Cute Shit in Korea

Hey, do you like my blog? A little? Are you interested in learning more about Boon Companion Ellie and I? Do you like cute shit? Feel free to check out our blog Cute Shit in Korea, where we review cute places we like to go. And pester us to post more. <3

HERE IT IS!

Such Great Heights: Golgulsa

On April 20-21, 2013 my bosom travel companion Ellie and I finally tried out a templestay. Essentially, you go to a temple and agree to abide by (some) of the temple rules and regulations for a period of time. You can just stay the night (a cheap and comfortable option if you're ever traveling in Korea), stay for two days and one night (which is normal), or even stay up to a month.

Some people go on a templestay and never leave, just becoming part of the temple life. Living with monks! Six hours of sleep every night! Eating only the food you grow!

I was pretty excited. I had been wanting to try it since I moved here, but when I first arrived I was a.) too poor and b.) too shy, and then c.) the weather got abruptly cold. But then we found Golgulsa, near a city called Gyeongju. A temple where the focus is on meditative martial arts training.

Martial arts monks.

COME ON, GUYS.

No, I didn't entertain any notions that it would be like reliving The Shaolin Temple. 

And it was an hour bus from Busan! So we booked it and we took off. Ellie is crazy about Gyeongju, incidentally, and she raved about it for the whole week leading up to it. I'd never seen it, but as soon as we got there I knew what she meant. While it has its fair share of ghettos, it is unusually sightly for South Korea. Gyeongju is so into itself that even the gas stations have traditional Korean rooftops.

Would I lie to you?

The short of it is, my experiences doing a templestay at Golgulsa were transformative, in a way I couldn't express, then or now. Thus shall I do a photo blog and hope my camera phone can in some small way do my staggered speaking for me. Forgive my ineloquence on this matter. I am still sorting it all out in my head.

We took a bus out to area where the temple was, and we found....countryside! In Korea! I was shocked. And then the bus deposited us here.

You can imagine my surprise.

I know what you're thinking. This is not a temple. This is on its best days an unprepossessing stretch of rubble. Luckily we spotted a rusty sign that might have said "temple" and definitely had an arrow, so we walked thatwardly. And after about a kilometer, lo! We happened upon this large stone next to the road!

If your Hangeul is rusty, it says, "Golgulsa". It was a good omen.

We took a look around a corner and sure enough there were some lanterns leading up a short hill. There is, of course, a lot of religious significance to lanterns that I periodically Google. The lanterns led me to what I believe were the gates to Paradise.

THE WAY WAS MARKED WITH MARTIAL ARTS STATUES. HAHAHA.

Life has been so kind to you. But you are so unkind to others.

There is a poetry in that, but it's not the good kind.

And I have grown weary of it.

Like a Pebble in my Shoe

Ten years is a long time to miss someone.

And the Waters Be Deep

I have always enjoyed the term brainstorming. It's appropriate to the way my mind (or at least the creative part of my mind) works. If I have time, if I'm content and happy and totally determined to write, it's usually a sure sign that I will be unable to pen a single decent sentence. For me, writing comes out of these furious and rushed and often distressing moments of mental fervor, times when my head is full, swirling, and mad. My best writing, the best of prose and poetry, always seems to come out at 2:00 a.m. in a frantic rush for paper, or days when my mind seethes and pulses with so many mixed sentiments and memories that I can do nothing but try to get it all down (in one of my many notebooks in some variety of brightly colored ink, as is my wont) before it escapes me entirely.

I have worried about this for years, actually. I would sincerely love to believe that I imagine this, but once the sky of my emotions clears, my ability to put together a really good, powerful turn of phrase fades out like so many clouds. After the storm, it always seems that I lose something. And I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing, but I often fear that what I'm losing is my gift.

There could be something very positive and nearly Taoist about this situation, actually. A clear sky and a clear mind, this fretful lack of words. Perhaps it is that my mind loses its loquacity because it doesn't need the crutch, when it's at peace. Perhaps for me, clarity is contentment. I like that notion. It's comforting. It's nicer than feeling talentless, or worse, feeling that I have to be in some kind of strife to be an effective writer.

But I find it frustrating, so here I am trying to write, grinding out some words to get my practice in anyway.

Sidenote: My friend Elaine (a much more diligent blogger than myself and a charming wit to boot) actually sent me a video about this subject which involves my favorite poet/songwriter, Tom Waits. The woman in the Ted Talk (Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love) is actually discussing this very phenomenon of inspiration. While I envy her drive and commitment, her tenacity in putting her nose to the stone and getting her work done everyday, I must confess to being the other kind of writer she is talking about, the scattered, fit-of-passion type. Which I find troubling. I'm working on it. But I take heart from her anecdote about Tom Waits. The conclusion my mentor draws is a helpful one. Enjoy.

The Tiniest Soap Box

Enthusiasm isn’t a sign of a lack of intelligence. I realize it may seem uncool to many people in my generation to openly enjoy life. I was fifteen once, too. No, but seriously. Life does suck, a lot. In the face of overwhelming bullshit, I choose to smile. I choose to laugh. I choose to share my happiness. I don’t like how ennui is treated like intelligence and optimism is treated like a liability. I have been through a lot. I have come out on the other side. And I am proud of the fact that I have learned to be happy.

Stop treating excitement like idiocy. Life is bad enough by itself; it doesn’t need judgment crashing down on the good it has left. Don’t ever mistake smiles for innocence. Chances are, someone in their adult life who can stand in the face of it all and smile has walked a long road to get there. And that is the kind of person you want to keep in your life, not someone you want to crush.

So go out there and do something fun! Be recklessly unaware of the social consequences!

The Blog That Wouldn't Die

HELLO EVERYONE GUESS WHAT.

I am still alive (though barely).

I would like to extend a warm thank you to everyone who has been so patient during this emotionally vexing time of mine. For those of you who are not in the know (basically everyone, I'm sorry), two of the foreign teachers at my school had to abruptly return to the States during the last month or so, dwindling our numbers from seven to five, with no one to make up the damage. Except those of us already there. So I have been teaching for literally all day every day, with no daily preparation periods, for about a month straight. I then have to prepare my classes after school, at the time where you normally eat things and do things that aren't being at work.

In a nutshell, I have been spending ten to twelve hours a day on average at work. And I am physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. Woe is Toria.

In point of fact, when I get home at night, I no longer have the energy to exercise. I can't practice martial arts, I can't write, I can't even read anything harder than a children's book. I haven't finished a book in two months. I have become a shallow husk of my former self. On the weekends, in between preparing school work, my friend Ellie has been dragging me away to do fun things, but when I return, I don't even have the energy to blog about them.

I can't even string together four lines of verse. I'm serious. Watch me try.

There was a woman named Victoria
Who was good at poetry, until
Blah blah blah,
The bagels in Korea taste funny.

There is good news, dear friends. (I actually originally typed that as "goo news" and almost left it for the comedic value.) There is a new teacher coming. Two, if everything works out! And then I will have the time to answer your emails and finish my blogs and remember how to do a back spin kick.

The bad news is that tomorrow is Open Class, which is the day when parents come in and watch me teach. What? Stressful? No, that's not stressful! So you can wish me luck in the manner of your personal beliefs and religious views.

Anyway, despite the stress and the sickness and the inability to do much more than stare at my walls, I am holding up. I know that almost everyone I know is fully aware that I have a busy life and my own duties to attend to. I know that most of you know that, in the metaphor wherein you are a house and life is a tornado, you can really only focus on holding your own bricks together until the sky clears. You know that. I have been reminded of that now, thanks to my mother. But it doesn't stop me from feeling a compelling guilt regarding my radio silence towards my family and other assorted loved ones. Thus you get this incredibly rambling and nonsensical post.

You're welcome.

Peace.

P.S. Happy Birthday, Gun.