Novice Hedonist

I feel that I've been rather faithful to the doctrine of hedonism in the past couple of weeks.

I was never a diligent student, but I had felt that learning and therefore improving myself was the ultimate objective of life. The purpose or meaning of life didn't and doesn't concern me. I don't like the idea that I must serve a higher purpose than my own. Mr. Durden argues that self-improvement is masturbation -- if so then so be it.
I got anxious whenever I felt there was no progress in my life. If I wasn't learning something new every day I was gripped by fear that I would be forced to sustain this form of boring life forever.
Things have changed. Ever so slightly. If the objective of life is to gratify oneself than I've succeeded.

I make enough money to enjoy myself. Everyone could use more money, yes, but I have no complaints.

I love my work. It is challenging, boring, and not very imaginative, but it gives me the minimum amount of intellectual stimulation I require. I'm not smothered by a never-ending avalanche of work. When I don't have work, I'm free to blog (like now), play flash games, check my facebook, etc. I can listen to music whenever I want.

My co-workers are awesome. We treat each other with mutual respect. We have interesting conversations at lunch. We help each other when we're in need.

I have a boyfriend who loves me. I find him incredibly sexy and sweet. He is very respectful of me while maintaining a touch of boyish mischievousness. We are almost evenly matched in our sexual appetite.

In the past few weeks I've concerned myself primarily with sensual gratification -- which I haven't done, probably ever. It's almost like I was suddenly emancipated and relieved from a burden and frustration.

I would be perfectly happy if I hadn't been subject to my parents' austere measures. I behaved myself my whole life and somehow they're not convinced that I can take care of myself. I'm not very optimistic about the prospect of reconciling with them. The only way of resolving the situation, it seems, is to get out.

Player

I learned that ever since the agricultural revolution human beings came to feel the necessity of having their own families and thereby passing their inheritance down to younger generations. Being the receptacle and shelter of genetic materials women were encouraged not to have more than one partner each. If they were to have multiple life partners then no one would be able to determine which child belongs to whom, and the whole point of having a family is gone. The rise of monogamous relationships.

But surely we don't consider monogamy a norm just for this reason. Unfaithfulness, cheating on one's partner, these things are usually frowned upon no matter what sex/gender you are, and regardless of one's sexual preference.

Even though I myself detest men who cheat on their women, I often thought that if given the opportunity and equipped with the right bodily features, I would be guilty of lust that is not grounded in one place. As long as women consent I would be a free game.

Now -- even though I consider myself a feminist through and through, I don't think I can condone such a behaviour in a woman. I know, this is totally discriminatory. A character like Samantha in SATC is quite a charming character and I like her, but only because she is a work of fiction. I cannot say that I would be happy if I were to see my friend behaving in the same way. This kind of double standard puzzles me even though it is I who possesses it. It's completely crazy and disturbing.

Why can't I accept women who have sex like players -- have one night stands in mutual consent, don't keep one partner, just get it on whenever they feel like?

I can't come up with a remotely valid, justified answer. I suppose this is the worst kind of prejudice, the one that even i, the possessor, cannot try to justify.

It is quite curious however that I should feel this way. Should I blame the years and years of male-centric education that I received? Am I just wired to think that way? I don't think something like this can be inherent, so I think I can rule the last one out.

The sexual climate in Korea is not as different as I thought. People are more open about sex even though it's not comparable to us Vancouverites. Sex looks to the outsiders like a more perverted subject because it's still hidden behind doors and people who do talk about it don't treat it with the proper respect and sensitivity. While some people make love, spend the night together, have sex, others fuck.

I have yet to reach the conclusion in terms of my prejudice. Is it bad that I have such a notion? Must I think that all humans that walk the face of the earth are free game? Sexuality is there to celebrate hence one should be allowed to get it off whenever necessary/possible?

I don't intend to find answers to these questions but the exploration should be quite fun.

In pursuit of happiness

For the longest time I was convinced that the reason I felt so empty all the time was that I wasn't in a relationship. I thought I was focused on materials too much, and count on it for psychological compensations. Now I'm comfortably well off -- I have a job that pays me well, I do what I like, I have a man who loves me.

And yet I can't help but feel very alone. I don't exactly know I feel this way. I should be happy. I really was before. Since last Wednesday I've been feeling down for no apparent reason. Maybe this is how most people feel when they don't have any particular reasons to be happy but I'm perceiving as a sign of distress. I have no idea.

I'm confused. Will I ever find happiness in life? What different would it make to obtain JD, be a partner in a big law firm, possibly get married -- what then? Will I be happy if I have all those things? I'm in living more or less the best scenario possible right now and I'm not content.

I try to focus on the "now" these days because I've experienced it first-hand that not everything goes according to my plan and I should enjoy what I have for now. Live in the moment. If I were truly being faithful to my cause I wouldn't feel this way. I'm always looking ahead for the clouds.

My relationship, for example, is doomed to end when and if I get into law school and move back to Canada. I can never see myself living in Korea and it's pretty much been established that I'll leave when I think I've gained enough experience. I have deep affection for my boyfriend but I can never fully love him because I know it'll be even more difficult later. I'm tormented between surrendering my emotions to him and remaining aloof. I'm not even sure if we'll last that long. It worries me still.

It kills me that I have no one to confide this too in person.

The L word

I guess my readers are bewildered by the fact that I'm suddenly writing a lot about relationships. If I could offer a logical explanation for it --which I can-- it is that with all things constant, a budding relationship that I found in an unlikely environment is the only thing that is new in my life. Everything else has been just as stable and, I dare say, boring.

When I tell people that I have trouble dealing with the L word i.e. Love, they seem to think that I have commitment issues. That's not entirely true. I say "not entirely" because I once broke up with a person because he wanted a committed relationship, but I've never cheated on my partners.

The prospect of commitment is daunting mainly for the fact that I need to trust someone well enough to leave myself vulnerable and exposed. I don't think I can do that to anyone, not even to myself. I've never been wholly satisfied by who I am -- how can I trust another human being to be so? Ironically this doesn't mean I actively engage in fabricating another persona. It's not like I'm trying to make myself look good to others, but at the same time I don't want people to know the real me. Epic high school nostalgia.

I've never been in love. That's a fact. I don't know how I'll feel when and if I ever fall in love. I always related well to Miranda's predicament in the sixth season of SATC when she had trouble saying I love you to Robert. She obviously likes spending time with him but for some strange reason she's unable to say it to him. SATC suggests that Robert, however perfect he may have been, wasn't right for Miranda, and that's why she couldn't confess love for him. Steve was the one. When the time was right Miranda couldn't hold it any longer and had to say it despite the circumstances.

I identify myself with Miranda in a lot of ways (save her education in Harvard and thriving legal career) and something tells me I'll have similar experience. I just hope it happens at the right moment to the right person.

Even though I'm not comfortable saying the L word even now, I think I'm making some progress. I've come to feel safe enough to disclose to him how I miss him and long to be with him. I literally suffer from withdrawal syndromes when I don't see him in person. I didn't expect any of these to happen in this country, at this time of my life.

Office etiquettes in Korea

Sometimes I am astounded by how different Canada and Korea really are. I might have felt, said, and acknowledge their differences in some way, yes, but to truly feel they're just so very different is another matter. Seeing so many people spit in the streets is one of those things. I took it for granted --and I think many of us can agree that most do-- that one should not spit in public unless one absolutely has too. It shouldn't be a habit.

After I was reassigned to the paralegal team I've had to work with the legal team and the way they function drastically differs from most teams that I'm used to. They talk loudly, sometimes swear, leave their ringtones are on, not silenced, talk on the phone for personal reasons... The fact that they're men can't be an excuse.

I was told that office rules in Korea are pretty rigid. My dad was so concerned about me abiding by them, thinking that I, in my Western demeanour, would look down upon them and show obvious disregard for them. That is mainly because my dad doesn't know me really well but that's another story.

I have no idea how to approach this. I'm usually the first one to show explicit objection and do something about this kind of situation. But being but a rookie I don't have a lot of say in this. All my teammates are deeply bothered by this, but can't really say anything because it's part of the other team's job to talk on the phone, etc. My superior told me that she had once appealed to HR and requested relocation but it was either forgotten or ignored. I'm not sure if we even have empty offices to which we can move. I've been subtly suggesting to others that we need to be relocated. Not sure if it'll be effective at all.

I never thought I'd have to worry about things like this in a  Korean office -- in a law firm no less!

Fear of Intimacy

Whenever I meet someone who takes interest in me the first thing that hits me is: "... WHY???" For all my life I've thought that only a freak of nature would find me desirable on both intellectual and physical levels. We are all in some way freaks so my hypothesis is not far from the truth, if I may argue so.

Every time I had a relationship I've always had the fear of intimacy. If you know me well you should know that if I don't like something I can't hide it. My face immediately reflects repulsion. Any kind of physical contact initiated by someone I abhor would be coldly rejected without a hint of civility. Even if I liked someone well enough, my boyfriends in the past for example, I found it hard to let a considerable degree of physical and emotional intimacy take place.
If I had to speculate why, I would think it is because I have a history of rejection. I haven't been outright rejected many times but I was able to detect signs and before I had to face explicit rejections I had spared myself such embarrassment. Hence I'm used to withdrawing myself before I get hurt and play it cool so that I can just forget about it.

This becomes a problem when I do need to admit my feelings because they are, for some ridiculous fortune, returned. The acknowledgment and reciprocity catch me off-guard because I'm more used to unrequited feelings. The possibility of having to risk my heart (as much as it sounds cheesy) for another human being makes me nervous. Perhaps it is because I don't think the person will like the real me. Or think that I won't like the real him. Whatever the reason, the prospect of having to open up to another person that is not my friend makes me feel incredibly vulnerable. As a defense mechanism I act hostile until the attention ceases.

This is probably the first instance ever that emotional and physical intimacies are progressing at an ideal time. The craziest thing is that it's physical intimacy that I love the most about this relationship. Women often judge men for focusing on carnal desires more than intangible, psychological rewards. I fear that I'm slowly turning into one of them. Nothing significant has happened yet, and being me, I think my readers can rest in the thought that I won't do anything too stupid.
This is also the first time that I realized that physical comfort in a relationship can equate to an emotional one. In my past relationships I had difficulty balancing erotic and platonic loves (though I have yet to be "in love"). In my case my boyfriends were more into the latter, leaving me secretly frustrated. (Not so subtle anymore, I guess.) It is all too bad that the stimulation of the mind alone cannot satisfy a human being; otherwise I would have been happier. Regardless now I am provided for in both ways.

It is a virtually indescribable feeling, really, to be in the arms of a person who truly cares for me. The physical gesture is only a medium in which emotions are expressed. Perhaps that is why I am not repelled by a high level of intimacy at a relatively early stage of my relationship. If I had thought that all this was only for something physical, I wouldn't have felt secure.

Life tends to royally screw me up when I feel happy enough. I'll see how much time I have until things turn bad, but I'll focus on enjoying myself while I can.

Rolling rolling rolling

I'm currently in the process of translating documentary evidence that deals with trains. Yes. Trains. I haven't been on one since I left England.

The team I'm responsible for (corporate finance) doesn't have a lot of work for me these days and I've mentioned on Facebook that I pretty much spend my day blogging, reading newspaper, and playing Adobe flash games. I asked one of my co-workers if I could help her and she sometimes sends some my way.
Paralegals keep a time sheet so that even if they work on someone else's case they could be count for the work they did and, more importantly, be paid accordingly.

I usually enjoy translating legal documents even if they discuss rather dry stuff like leasing buildings and what not.
This train case is just horribly boring.

What makes it worse is that I can pretty much guarantee that no one will read this. Even if they do, they'll just skim through it without paying close attention to it. This is a domestic dispute and I believe drawing up documents in English is just a formality. And I'm a victim of that formality.
The fact that this isn't exactly my work also worsens my boredom. If I had to do it no matter what there would be a fire under my ass and I'll just get it done fast. This job takes a lot of time because I need to look up all the technical terms, but I'm much faster than most people here and I've been told that the quality of my work is quite good too.

This is what happens to people who can't fake a sense of urgency.

This train case involves one particular city in Kyungki province, in which my grandparents happen to live. I asked my aunt (who lives with them) if she heard anything about this case. SHE HASN'T. Even the people who live there don't give a damn about this!

Missing Vancouver

I miss Vancouver more than usual these days. The autumn season in Seoul is beautiful this year; it's not too cold to wear stylish outfit, and the air is crisp enough to refresh me every morning. Sans being crammed into the subway like a can of sardines along with other people my morning commute is more or less pleasant.

But it is incomparable to fall in Vancouver. Many people dislike the Vancouverite autumn because it rainy, windy, and chilly, but those are defining characteristics of Vancouver that make it unique. I love the city so much that I could even love the freezing rain in November. (I say I could ...)

And I hear Vancouver is donning its Christmas attire already. I picture the Oakridge mall and the Pacific Centre in beautiful red ribbons that glitter under halogen lights. I picture myself strutting down the linoleum tiled floor with my friends. I picture myself conversing in English. (I still do that but very seldom.)

Even though the degree of satisfaction that I feel towards my life has increased, it cannot make up for the fact that I'm not in Vancouver. I look Korean, speak Korean fluently, and mimic its customs almost flawlessly but I am a foreigner in this country. I believe in the saying that home is where heart is -- no matter what nationality or skin colour you have. And I left my heart in Vancouver. (I know, eek.) Maybe that's why I've been feeling so empty and directionless. Homesickness can have curious effects on people. It is more potent than one might think.

Sure, Vancouver isn't a perfect city. People are less polite and friendly than others say they are. Considering its size and status Vancouver's business development is pathetic. Wage there is terrible. People live in (usually) closely locked race bubbles. Things cost way too much.

Still. I'd kill to live there. For good. Doing what I love. With people I love.

It's been roughly three months since I left and sometimes I can hardly believe that I'm in Korea. I may be present in this country physically but I sure have a Vancouver state of mind.

Nothing to report except.

I haven't been blogging because there's not much happening in my life. It's still stable to the point where I feel stagnated... except for one thing.

But I'm afraid this story should wait until there is further development. I'm taking extra caution on this matter, having learned from my experience that some things are indeed too good to be true and I have the worst luck when it comes to men.

So far I have been very happy. I'm just going to see where this leads me and when I feel safe enough I'll fill you in.

Going to a Korean clinic

The healthcare system in Korea has always been a mystery to me. When I was little I didn't have to go to a separate pharmacy to get the pills my doctor prescribed. There was no such thing as a "prescription" --at least not physically-- because everything was done in one place. The separation of diagnosis and pharmaceuticals took place later on. Going to see the doctor and then the pharmacist in two trips was an annoying hassle for me. Grown-ups back then said something about charging patients more but I didn't pay too attention to it.
I also remember having a small booklet that listed my social security number and family relations (kinda like the BC care card). I'm not sure if people still carry that around.
And As opposed to having to see the physician first and then being referred to a specialist, in Korea you can go to the doctor of your choice without the middleman. For instance if I have a horrible sore throat, I can just go see a ear-nose-throat doctor (이비인후과 ee-bee-inhoo-gwa). The same goes for the dentist, dermatologist, gynecologist...

I had to visit a clinic to get a simple check up since my firm requested diagnostics for insurance reasons. I had never been to a clinic in Korea even when I was a child. To the little me a clinic was the poor people's equivalent of a legitimate doctor's office.
The clinic that I went to looked pretty fancy, actually. It was definitely more spacious than University Clinic in UBC, and they had many receptionists. I can't imagine why they would need so many; perhaps for flue seasons? Regardless they were friendly enough and worked fast. When I told the receptionist I needed to get some tests done for my company, she asked me where I worked. (There were actually boxes on the paper to indicate where I worked, but it only had things like restaurants, massage parlor(!), and bars.) I told her where, and she asked me back: "And they told you to get the tests done here?" Hmm. I couldn't really tell what she was trying to imply but from the options available on the paper I could assume.
I got the x-ray, blood and urine tests done and the whole thing took about fifteen minutes and five dollars. They told me I could pick up the test result on Friday anywhere that has an electronic issuer (for public documents). What a country.

Everyone who worked at the clinic was woman. I wonder if that was intentional. As a woman I definitely felt more at ease, but I'm not sure if men feel the same way.

A feeling of inadequacy

My sanity is wearing thin. I hate being here. My life is purposeless.
I'm aching to learn. I miss the time when I learned new things every day. I'm living a life that is intellectually and culturally malnourished. My only joy right now is to consume.

I'm happy when I'm working. It gives me an illusion of purpose. But it's not really my purpose because I'm only serving that of others. I myself don't have a purpose. If I do have one it is to accumulate money so I can buy things that I probably don't need. I just think I need them. They make me happy for a short period of time. I get tired of things easily. All sensations are painfully ephemeral.

Would it make me happy if I just gave up, if I just watch the same TV shows as everybody else, deny myself all the food I like so I can wear Size 2 clothes, dye my hair, wear contact lenses, paint my face so it's so white white white and bright.

Does it matter to anyone that I once led a different life? I don't have anyone with whom I can have a meaningful conversation. Everything is pointless. It entertains me for a bit and they vanish.

Sometimes I can't believe that I'm fully here in this moment in this space. My mind wanders off for a moment, comes back to me, and then I realize, yes I am here. I occupy this space. I breathe. I am more or less alive.

I wish I could scream from the top of my lungs and just say that I forfeit.
I DON'T think it's going to get any better.
I just live on because I don't have a better alternative.



When a person plays a real-time strategy game that doesn't have any particular objective, she's bound to hit a plateau where everything becomes stable. She has enough money. Everything is going as it should. She can just leave it by itself and it's probably going to be ok. She'll have to jump in every now and then just to check but chances are no action on her part is necessary.

I'm not saying my life is perfect. It's far from it. But it's stagnant. Motionless. I feel myself rotting away.

3 month mark

It's roughly been three months since I came to Korea. I'm horrified by the fact that writing in Korean is easier for me now. Thoughts are formulated in Korean first. I knew this would happen some day but I didn't think it would happen this fast. Every word, sentence, paragraph I write in English takes more effort than before. I'm worried that I may sound like a total FOB to others. My friends in Canada will begin to notice the difference. Ugh.

I guess it's time to hit the books again. Finish The House of Mirth. Work on my novel.
At this rate I'm not going to do well on LSAT.

I remember how it was in England. I didn't have a chance to speak Korean at all and my English profiency was at a pinnacle. Now things don't come as naturally to me.
It's times like this that remind me that I can perhaps never be fully Canadian. Sure I'm Canadian on the papers. I love the country. I love living there. But I don't look Canadian. My English is flawed. I spent three months on this subject in my SDS but I am still without an answer. I know the seminar wasn't suppose to provide one; it would've been easier though if it had.

It just doesn't work

People probably don't understand how much I hate living in Korea. I just say it's not as bad as I thought, but it doesn't mean that I enjoy living here. I do enjoy working at my firm -- that's a different story. Luckily my co-workers are wonderful people. It's the time I spend outside with strangers that bugs me the most.

I believe Koreans are a naturally blunt sort. I grew up seeing "chinjeol (친절; kindness/courtesy) campaign" posters in public transit. One might think that in a collectivist society being nice to one another may be an unsaid rule of law, but it's quite the opposite in this country. It's a trivial thing in the grand scheme of things. But would it kill people to be considerate? I can definitely say that the Vancouverites are not the friendliest people in the world, but I have no doubt we're kinder than Seoul citizens.

Koreans are also very impatient. That's why the country thrives on the "quick service" industry. Motorcyclists drive like there's a tsunami wave behind them. Traffic signals are meaningless. I mentioned in my other entry how much I hate being pushed in the subway so I need not elaborate.

In elevators I often witness people abusing the "close" button. I usually wait a little until the person gets out and the announcement system has the time to adjust itself because the elevator doesn't respond to the close button right away. Many people just smash the button multiple times, or even hold the button till the doors close. In my old apartment in UBC I never saw a person so anxious. One doesn't make the elevator go faster by hitting the close button repeatedly. They will close when they close.


People often ask me if I want to live in Korea for good. I then answer that the best thing for me would be to work for a Korean company and be dispatched to countries all over the world.
Of course this is total bullshit.
I want to study Canadian law and work in Canada. Things that Canadians perceive as the common sense are a chore for most Koreans. This is a country in which women are considered as sex toys, lazy housewives, and parasites. The sad thing is that some of them actually deserve to be called so.

I was born in South Korea and lived more than half of my life here but it doesn't mean I chose to be Korean or want to conform to their social expectations. I'm proud of Korean history and of what my ancestors did to protect this country. Regrettably I cannot say the same for the current society, government, and culture.
I feel myself withering away. I miss Vancouver.
Thank god I love my work. It's an anchor that keeps me together.

A modern day nightmare

I had a series of nightmares last night. The funny thing is that they're pretty realistic and thereby more terrifying.

(Dreams not in a chronological order)

The first nightmare involved my youngest aunt who is currently pregnant (due this month). In my dream I kept dosing off while my parents, my aunt, and other people were talking. The part that I did hear horrified me because, when someone said a woman should be allowed to work even after getting married, my aunt argued with passion that women's place was at home, and a woman would be committing a sin if she abandoned her post. Inexplicably she was married to one of the people in my firm (not true IRL), and when I expressed my deep concerns, he laughed at it off and dismissed it as a needless worry.

The second one was about me directly. I was walking along the road which led to a small hill. It was a scenic route in the forest, and there werea group of tourists and a guide who led their way. I wasn't part of that group so I walked on more quickly to pass them by, and I noticed that one of the men took a zoomed-in picture of me. I was creeped out, and I immediately asked him to delete my picture. He reluctantly complied. They went out of my sight soon enough and I shuddered with dread, still going on my way. When I took out my camera I saw that someone still had me in his view-finder, and I assumed it was the creep who took my picture. (For some reason my camera could detect the presence of other cameras.) I froze with fear, and when I ran into a couple of joggers I asked them to walk me to the SUB (I guess it was the Pacific Regional Forest?), and they obliged me.
A couple of days ago my dad yelled at me for getting home late. (It was seven f**king fifty, and he called it late. I had come home straight from work, and the traffic was worse than usual.) I guess the fear creeped into my dream.

The last one I cannot remember now. But It was just as plausible and dreadful as the other dreams.

I remember the dreams I used to have when I was waiting for law school admission results and didn't have a job. I got shot in the head by different people in a number of dreams. They were sometimes strangers, but one time it was my dad. He shot at me and missed me, and I fell down like I had been shot. I thought I tricked him into believing I was dead, but he came over to confirm the kill. In another dream I was a soldier in a battalion whose miserable defeat was imminent. The entire troop (though only a few people) was ordered to commit suicide so that we wouldn't be tortured and let out secrets. I pulled the trigger to my temple, and even though I didn't feel the pain, I felt the blow. I didn't die immediately either; I lay there, waiting for death to come. It was the strangest feeling. I always woke up before I died.

These days I rarely dream. I prefer it this way.