a longer stay.

I am falling in sync with my surroundings. I think if the expression "in sync" had a heart and a brain, it would likely loathe the boy band for giving it such a laughable existence.

When I take the bus now, I feel more like a traveling comrade among my fellow bus riders rather than an outsider. It's difficult no longer.

I am growing accustomed to the time alone. Do not confuse that with the statement "I am liking all of the time I get to spend alone". Still not. But it's not so taxing on me anymore. I am more comfortable and confident in the outer culture, so I am attempting to make a more interesting use of my time alone, and also be thankful for those days when I can just relax with no one to disappoint.

The more I am away from my old house and good friends, the more distant the memories of goodness are. I am sorry. I think it's the nature of the human brain, and a defense mechanism to be able to deal with the current lack of constant people. Since I feel a little farther away from what it is I really miss about being in Tulsa, it's easier to be here in South Korea.

I also feel like I am not done experiencing this place. I am not done seeing the places marked on maps, or the places that no one could point me to. On a walk last week through downtown, I passed an older lady with a healthy roundness, one that says she knows that her cooking is good. She was wearing an apron and mismatching clothes, hanging her laundry on the line outside of her house that looked more like a four walled garage. She had a look of comfort in her face, like she had never lived anywhere else but those few concrete walls. If I asked her if she owned a dryer she probably would have said "what the hell for?". I imagined her husband coming home from a long day of work, sitting down with soju and eating his wife's kimchi, with an asian pear for dessert. I am not done seeing this culture.

The school asked me a few weeks ago if I would be interested in staying until the twenty-second of August, for their summer classes. My response was that I would think about it, though in my head I knew the answer was no. Five weeks is enough. It will be time to go home.

I was sitting in my classroom on Monday recounting the blast that I had last weekend. It was fun and exciting, and a few days of many firsts for me. It was the first time I had actually ordered a steak at a restaurant. And also, the first time I had walked miles in search of pancakes. That was the moment I realized that I wasn't done here, and not quite ready to leave. The ease with which I am able to live my life here is kind of addictive. It would get old after a year. But right now, it's really easy to enjoy. I am faced everyday with things I have never seen before, and chances to go places I wouldn't have imagined myself. And I am able to afford it.

When my boss came to me that next hour and asked again if I was willing to stay, I said I would look into it. I had changed my mind.

My flight home now leaves the thirtieth of next month instead of the twenty-seventh of this. I will be happy on the thirtieth, as it will be good to be home. I will probably be ready. Until then, I am going to be happy here.