the goings (and not goings) on.

I am realizing that not all of my posts must have clear and defined direction as some of you, namely family, just like knowing what I am up to. 

Here are some things I am been doing, not doing, and thinking about over the past few days. 

The first on the list would fit into the category of "not doing". The depth of my laziness over the past few days has been, well, too deep to accurately measure. I think part of my last "thankful" post was an attempted justification to myself that my inactivity is OK. Waking up at ten, browsing the web, reading, napping for too long, and then watching an hour long episode of a new favorite old TV show was the routine Monday and Tuesday. I decided tonight that indeed that behavior was OK, for those two days. There's something really wonderful in knowing I can sleep, and continue to sleep, knowing there is NOWHERE I have to me. In contrast, there is also something really wonderful about being productive on a day when there is in fact NOTHING I have to do. So tomorrow, productive I shall be, and utterly lazy no longer.

As I did actually have to go to work yesterday at three in the afternoon, this section would fit into the category of "doing". What I did was teach. Or rather, manage chaos. I am to the point where I don't have to call roll anymore, as I can match my students faces with their names. I took attendance without their knowledge, falling into a pool of disappointment toward the end. Everyone there had been marked present, the bell had rang, but one very important desk remained empty. With a puppy dog kind of sad look on my face, I glance up and ask my students where Ian is. PK tried to inform me, with the amount of English he knows, that they had a new bus driver that drove right past Ian's house, without stopping. I leave the mark in the absent box on the computer screen, and I hit save. He barges in with a big goofy smile on his face while I am handing out the review tests, takes his seat in the middle of the room, and I smile. 

Why do I think this kid is so great? He was wearing a tank top, and while raising his hand, he requests that I not look at his under arm area. Each time he raised his hand after that, he held his ID card up over the area he wanted to conceal. And he wasn't trying to be funny. He was serious, which made it so very funny. 

Today, I taught James during my second teaching hour. There are usually six or so kids in that class, but because of public school testing, English class became less of a priority, so I only had one student. He is probably one of the smartest kids I have the opportunity to teach, which made for a fun three hours. At one point I had to explain to him the word flutter, as in, a fluttering heart. It was in the context of that person walking into a room that makes your heart flutter, and the feeling that follows...as if there is actually a very small bird stuck inside the walls of your stomach, flapping its wings, and all of the fluid from your brain has left its home in your head to join the bird in your abdomen, rendering you nearly incapable of forming coherent and sensible sentences; all the while, it's growing more and more difficult for you to breathe. What is the best way, I ask, to describe that feeling in understandable English to a third grader whose first language is Korean? Hmm.

Dolsat Bibimbap = my favorite Korean dish thus far. When I crave something here, other than the juicy cheeseburger I have yet to attain, it's usually this. A website, forwarded to me by my seasoned American living in Korea buddy, describes it as Rice in a hot bowl covered with various veggies (carrots, mountain weeds, cucumbers, sprouts, etc.), red chili paste, and topped with a fried egg. It's so delicious...the spiciness and combination of textures and flavors. This yumminess in a bowl is attained from one of Korea's Kimbap restaurants...most with an orange sign outside, and a hole in the wall type of feel, serving tasty (and inexpensive) hot Korean food. Up until last night, I had eaten the contents of the sizzling bowl in good company, which means I had an American eating alongside me, and ordering for me. The term restaurant is a little extravagant, as it's really just a four walls and a roof with small wooden stools lined along the few tables there are in the simple mirrored room. Last night, I wanted Dolsat Bibimbap, and I had only myself to eat with. This meant I would have to venture into unknown terrain, and put my foreigner self in a small room, without a foreigner buffer friend, and order, in Korean, a dish that I would eat alone, surrounded by mirrors and non-English speaking Koreans who would probably wonder why in the world I was there. But I really wanted Dolsat Bibimbap, so I did it, and my stomach thanked me.