So, here’s looking at the moon, Sister

I have been a wee bit out of sorts for the past two months, and my writing has been straight out of an acid washed, tape bound composition notebook circa 2004. I had a deadline in my brain when I woke up this morning that by the time I go to sleep, I will have produced something to post on the bloggity blog.

When I got home, I was all rarin’ to go on some recent feminist issue: a silver tongued soap box declaration of human rights. Rah rah rah. And, trust me. That will come in time. But, in my Skype conversations with my sister, I realize that there are more important things than pushing my incredibly biased agenda on you unsuspecting folks at home.

This past week, my sister, an elementary school music teacher (among a million other really awesome things), had a choir concert. As she was preparing for it, she told me about the theme and how excited she was to do “A Night at the Theatre.” All throughout high school, our house rang with show tunes and theatrical responses to paltry issues. I was eager to hear how the show went.

After a short conversation (technology did that thing that it stopped working at the exact moment you’d like it to work), she sent me an email with some videos of her concert. She said, “Check out…video one for a little surprise.” Right before “Somewhere Out There” from Fieval Goes West, she made an announcement to the audience about how for siblings, she only has me, her little sister, who currently lives in South Korea. And, we only can talk on Skype, but sometimes we say, “I’m looking at the moon, Sister” because when we’re both looking at the same moon, it seems like the distance isn’t so far.

And, that right there is the point of this. Of all of this. Distance in time and space when gauged by the  moon seems so minuscule, so silly. The same moon was there before I was born. It’s there now. It will continue after I depart this earth.  

Under this ubiquitous moon, my sister loved me before I was a feminist, before I was a teacher, before I was strong. She loved me through my terrible twos, my codependent eights, that awkward summer when I was 13 with braces, glasses, and a broken arm.  That awkward summer when I was 22 with…ummm…that awkward summer when I was 22. And, sometime between Backstreet Boys, pogs, and hair dye the bond changed from loving each other because "Mom said" to loving each other because we chose it.

The same moon that shown over us in our childhood, still peeks his head out now. He watches over us as we continue to grow—a constant charge in our ever evolving lives. And, I’m not sayin’ that because I live in the future I know all the things, I’m just sayin’ that I know that the world doesn’t end today. The sun rises with her as the moon rises with me. Tonight, though, it’s just a sliver, a bow shooting memories across the sky. 

So, I drank my last beer

“Wait, wait, wait, Botsford. You are from Wisconsin. That is basically your ambrosia. Your nectar of the gods,” you gasp, panicky, grasping for something real to hold onto--probably a rosary, the couch upon which you’re sitting, and/or a cold brew of your own.

Yes, I understand the irony. I think it is similar to when I told my folks I was a vegetarian. “But, but, Katie, what will I cook for you when you come home?” Cold fear crossed my mother’s eyes. Pretty sure my parents were more accepting when I told them I like to date the womyns than when I chose not to eat meat. Regardless, I digress.

I am choosing to do this for several reasons. I don’t really want to drink during Ultimate season. My body is my temple, blah blah blah. In addition, I cannot exercise for an extended period of time due to an injury, so I am trying to cut out alcohol and other foods that don’t really serve a purpose to keep my sweet bod in beach condition. Just kidding on that last part. But, I am trying to be healthier, and focus on paltry things like self-control.

ANYWAY, I would prefer not to publically discuss why I am no longer drinking right now, but that I am not drinking. I also wish to tell you a story about my last drink.

Once upon a time, there lived a fiery lass from a sleepy hamlet in the northern reaches of an emerald island. She thrived on adventure. Always climbing or running or moving forward towards bigger and better places. Her gallivanting nature brought her to the land of morning calm. She spent some time in the bustling metropolis then ventured south towards the ocean front. She traipsed about the beach chasing and catching flying saucers. She, however, had a secret magic. She made everyone around her a faster runner, a confident catcher. She focused her energy into changing those around her into stars.

People from near and far gathered in hopes of training with her. There was one such girl—raw and new—who was especially eager. Shy, yet anxious to please, she lurked around the lass in hopes of learning by observation. Soon, the two women became acquainted; then their acquaintance turned to friendship. The lass’s magic pulsed through their friendship making the girl into a better human. And, the girl listened, learned, and taught as well. Together, they journeyed towards better ways of living, of existing in their world.

After some time, the lass felt a tugging, a yearning to keep her feet moving. Constantly moving forward. Constantly growing in herself. She chose to leave the morning calm in search of passion and vigor. At a last, last, last going away dinner, the women shared a special soup, mandu, and mediocre beer—their favorite meal.

When the lass departed for her train, the girl didn’t cry. Not because she wasn’t sad. But, because she knew that the lass’s magic will continue to course through their friendship, and someday their adventures will again be in the same place at the same time.

The end.

So, I guess what I’m trying to say is that my last gamjatang with W seemed a fitting time to take a break from alcohol. She taught me to stop bettering myself for others, and instead try bettering myself for me. She walked with me on some pretty wobbly steps towards being a healthier human, and now it is my turn to also grow in myself under my own volition.

Thank you, dear friend. I will see you soon.

So, you better check yo' self

I have been here in Korea for two years, as many of you avid bloggers learned last-ish week. Here is a list of ten things for which I am never prepared. Ergo, my reaction is usually awkward and lacking the normal grace and poise with which I carry myself. In essence, I need to check myself before I wreck myself.

1. Ajjeossis sit outside of the hospital in their pyjamas and IVs. They also drink so ju and smoke cigarettes. It just seems so counterintuitive. I have to do a double take and hide my confusion every time.

2. There is a store that is a magical place full of things you didn't know you needed. My EPIK roommate (for the first week of training), a fabulous Irish lass who is 100% cooler than I will ever be, commented, "Daiso is solid gold."

Scene: I walk into a Daiso store; I have a game plan, "okay, I need cleaning supplies, nothing else. Focus, Botsford." I leave with three sparkly ties, a garbage can shaped liked a frog, a dinosaur staple remover, chopsticks, baskets, a Nerf gun, and a Hello, Kitty alarm clock.

Then, I go home, unpack, and realize that my room is a mess. I think, "I should probably clean the floor." I rummage through the bags and find that I forgot to purchase the ONE thing I actually needed.

This happens every single time I go to Daiso. I never know if I should be angry at myself because I have the attention span of a humming bird OR excited that I have a T-Rex staple remover and a Nerf gun with which to shoot Rufio and probably my roommate.  Maybe year three will be better in this regard, but I am not hopeful.

3. Contrary to popular belief, hiking is a very communal activity. You need to bring enough to sustain yourself and at least three three other people. As you stop to take breaks, many Korean hikers will stop as well. They will share their fruit, ramyeon, and makgeolli. It is only polite to share your trail mix, protein bars, and rum. There is always an awkward moment when I have given my last tangerine to the ajjuma at the rest point before the top. Then, I have nothing for the ajjeosis at the summit who give me makgeolli, crackers, and mixed nuts. One time, I bartered English lessons. Usually, I just awkward antelope around, take photos for them, and give them the last swig of my flask. Sometimes, it is water. Most times, it's not.

4. Not much is more humbling than walking through a crowded hospital lobby carrying an uncovered Dixie cup of you own urine for a drug test. I have various levels of discomfort during this process, as evidenced by my facial expressions.

5. Dogs in jackets. I know that is a thing in the States, too. Most dogs here are the size of a chipmunk, so I suppose they need it. But, when I see Labrador and Golden retrievers in parkas, I just... I just can't....I just...don't know what to do.

6. There is a guy in my neighborhood who starts selling his wares around 7:00 in the morning. He has a blow horn and every ten seconds he says "blaaaaaah blaaaaaah." It sounds a lot like, "Taaaaaaaahhhhhhhh Cooooooooohs." Now, if someone is blowing a horn at seven a.m. selling tacos, I would run down the stairs and find him. Let's be honest, starting your day with a taco would be a complete game changer. However, he does NOT sell breakfast tacos. "What is it, Botsford, you tease?!" I don't know. I may never know. I just know my disappointment waking up to not breakfast tacos. I guess I will go eat my boring adult cereal full of flax and oats. Stupid healthy eating.

7. My entire stay here, I have been going to a orthopedic doctor for various bumps, bruises, and old age. Usually he just sends me upstairs for "physical therapy" which involves me napping while a nurse does something electrical on my body, plays a laser light show on my knee cap, and bundles me up in a heating pad. Seriously, these are the best naps ever despite being in a hospital and my body contorted into weird poses. But, my most recent trip has me splinted up with a semi-hard, removable cast. All of this is fine. However, what I absolutely do not understand is how much bandaging the nurses use. It is at least 10 yards of ace-type bandaging. There is a first down wrapped around my leg. I understand my leg is a bit big around, but really? 

I have no idea the science behind any of these procedures, but my doctor has gotten me through plenty of pretty serious scrapes, so I should trust that this is the best method (or, at the very least, a working method). He is, incidentally, also a tenor who performs for various classy events. He is pretty great.

8. Eight is still my lucky number. I received an email from my sister two days ago. All it said in the subject line was, "Kit Kat." It then went into a childhood memory of going to Sentry grocery store on Moreland Boulevard, and shopping with our mother. Every time, we would get a Kit Kat bar. Katie would get a piece, Sarah would get a piece, and Mom would get two, "Because I have to deal with you hooligans." Then, we would fight over who could sit in the front seat.

Early on, we devised a plan that on even days I would sit in the front because my favorite number was eight and my birthday was on the tenth. And, Sarah would sit in the front on odd days because her favorite number is odd (I dunno if I am allowed to impart this sensitive information), and her birthday is on the seventh. At the time, I didn't realize that more than half of the months have more odd days than even days. But, by the time I wised up, it was too late to change the system. We still followed this system this past January when I was home for a month. I did not, however, have to split a Kit Kat bar. I opted for the Butterfinger.

The point of this is a) I will never get over how much I miss my sister and b) that I still check the date every morning to see if I can sit in the front seat of my scooter.

9. I am never prepared for elevator conversations. In any country. At any time. When you walk into an elevator, children here look at you with a mix of wide eyed terror and wonder. They whisper in their mom or dad's ear, "hhhhhhello." I respond with "Hello, what is your name?" in Korean. Sometimes they answer, mostly they hide between the legs of their adult pretending I exist the same way a platypus exists in the zoo: something to be looked at and appreciated for its oddity, but never really knowing why it's there.

I am especially never prepared for the "Too Heavy" beep when you walk into a crowded elevator. You just hang your head in shame and start taking the stairs to ensure it never happens again, until it happens a week later at the same elevator with the same people. Worst. Ever.

10. Smart phones are everywhere. On the subway, when I look up from Lydia, my sassy blue and white phone, I see that everyone has their phones out messaging, playing games, or watching videos. Then, I look back at Lydia and research the statistic of smart phones vs. less than intelligent phones in Korea. I find the information I need, Instagram a photo of the subway car with the statistic in the description box (hashtag KoreaLyfe), then scroll my newsfeed and share a clever meme on a friend's timeline. Only then do I realize that I am part of the problem.

So, it is my two year anniversary week

Whelp, as the two year anniversary in the Land of the Morning Calm, approached, I really lived it up whilst Rufio cuddled me and watched my three favorite Emma's: Watson, Stone, and Lea Seydoux. I have learned and observed a few things in my time abroad, and I would like to share some with you.

1. Do not rise the challenge of a Korean saying she can drink Soju, Maek-ju, and Cider faster than you. Yes, you may win the challenge, but you will lose your pride when you wake up on a beach with a bottle of maekgeolli in your left hand and a peanut butter banana sandwich in your right.*

2. Personal space and privacy do not exist as evidenced by:
     a. Spontaneous hand holding with ajjumas on the subway
     b. A week ago, I heard a noise outside the bathroom door whilst showering. Thinking it was a mischievous Rufio, I opened the door to see my landlord's wife who had used her key and opened my door to show the apartment to a prospective tenant.

3. Rome wasn't built in a day, but whole buildings have been torn down, cleared out, and rebuilt in a matter of  hours. So, basically, Rome needs to get it together.

4. There is exactly one beach in Busan where you can go into the ocean past your kneecaps. However, I have never seen more people (children AND adults) in full on buoyancy apparel.

5. 24 hour convenience stores are EVERYWHERE. They are so handy for a midnight snack of kimbap or a 7 am banana milk.

6. I have learned that there is at least one other person in the city who shares any interest you may have. Spoken Word poetry? Yep. Ultimate frisbee? Definitely. A woman dressing as a man dressing as a woman? I have photos.

7. Your mom does not clean out your cat litter box, so you need to deal with that shit yourself. Which, I also think is a kind of a life metaphor.

8. Eight is my lucky number. It has been my lucky number since I was eight years old. It is also an infinity sign on its side, so that is neat. This is not a Korea observation, just a Katie observation. Both start with K, so I think we are twins.

9. Cheesy pajeon (savory kimchi pancake) and makgeolli almost always ends in fantastic memories, or sometimes it is a disaster. It is a flip of the coin, really. Just be aware.

10. Batting cages for 50 cents (or a dollar at the fancy places) is always worth it. Going with pros or n00bs, westerners or Koreans, hitting balls will solve all problems you may be having. If one problem is particularly stubborn, gamjatang (delicious pork soup) will fix it right up.

Now, I must go get my clothes off of the roof, where I used a clothesline for the first time in my life. I literally clothelined myself whilst hanging them. Rookie mistake. Hopefully, I will have wised up. Then, I'm heading to dinner to meet my very first Korea friend to celebrate our two year anniversary.

Adventure's awaiting.

*It happened at a beach Ultimate tournament. This fact, however, makes it no less embarrassing. 

So, I’ve not yet donned pants today…

…in neither the British nor the US English connotation of the word. (17:30)

01:30

It very well could have stayed that way, yet a friend knuckled me into getting Gamjatang with her at 20:00. By knuckled, I mean, she politely invited me, and I acquiesced.

Regardless, I had a lot of time to think today about the idea of Valentine’s Day. What it means to me; what it means to my friends; what it means to society.

It seems to me (according to my brief and unfocused analysis of Facebook), that there are two types of people. Those who are so incredibly ecstatically in love that they want to share it with everyone. And, there are those who are in a different camp of apathy or cynicism. And, to be honest, both are a-okay. As a closeted (not-so-closeted) romantic, I love it when my friends share their happiness.  We encounter enough negativity in the world that wee rays of love are a refreshing reminder of the things that are good in the world. I also can understand the need for friends showing independence of “I don’t need a partner; I got my own life.” These posts highlight the necessity of knowing your own person. Both are okay, and because you are in one mindset, it doesn’t make it the better place; it just makes it yours. There are two things I would like to address this Valentine’s Day. The first being the idea of radical self love. The second is spending quality time with those about whom you care.

So, radical self love, what does that even mean? It means loving yourself in spite of all of your flaws. This is something with which I personally struggle. All.the.time. “Well, Botsford, if you aren’t self-aware enough to have your life together, who do you think you are giving me advice?” Wow, what an excellent question from the back row. Life is a learning curve. Sometimes, it is steep. Sometimes, it is meandering. But, we are always learning about ourselves. The moment you stop working towards being a better person, you’ve lost.

It is imperative to love yourself, which is sometimes difficult to do when you’re mouth breathing through a retainer, wearing pirate socks and mismatched pajamas (totally hypothetical; my pajamas always match). But, it is so important to know things about yourself that make you genuinely, intrinsically happy. If you are constantly searching for external affirmation (Katie Botsford), you will find it uncomfortable to create internal happiness and a sense of independence. Now, you can sometimes achieve that with a partner if he or she (or they or ir) chooses to work through it with you. However, that is a lot of pressure to put on another human, so make sure you communicate your needs to your partner.  You will continue to learn and grow whilst in the midst of relationship (see above: life=learning curve). I promise.

Sometimes, looking in the mirror and appreciating what you see  (physically, emotionally, mentally) is hard. Sometimes, it is easy. But, it is always necessary.

The other thing I would like to stress this Valentine’s Day is the gift of your presence. It doesn’t matter if you are with your significant other, not-so-significant other, family, friends, or even by yourself. Exist within the moment. Put your phones and iPods away. Turn off the television. Spend quality time with the person/people in the room. Have a meaningful conversation. We are so wrapped up in the immediacy of this technological age; everything has to happen NOW. I need the updates NOW. I want to know what ________ is doing NOW. Chill out, bro. The internet will still be there in a few hours. 

Tonight, I had dinner with several people who are incredibly important to me. Afterwards, the four of us split up and two of us went home to have tea. For the first time in quite a while, I had a real conversation. Neither of us rushed to get the latest Facebook update or text our other friends (we DID send an important photo to one of our mutual friends). If you find yourself alone this evening, spend time exploring yourself or dreaming of a future adventure. Take time to be present with yourself.

Whatever you are doing tonight, be an active participant. Choose to make this a positive Valentine’s Day. If you are ecstatically happy within your relationship, run amok with fireflies in your wake. If you’re in the deepest, darkest forest of fear or anxiety, just try to find one firefly; cup it in your hand, and allow it to light a path.  

Wherever you are in your life, have peace, friend. Goodnight.   

So, sometimes it seems the universe wants to be noticed*

It wants to be noticed because it “enjoys its elegance being observed” (Green 138). I think that is what John Green calls us to see in his novel, The Fault in Our Stars. I’ve just finished re-reading it, and it has put several existential queries into my brain space. I promise, this won’t be a blog post determining if the work of Sisyphus matters. But, it will be an invitation to mull over some big ideas we’re often too scared to consider.

Green writes “the universe wants to be noticed” (138). He asks the reader to observe not only the small things (e.g. the rings on a tree cut down too early) but also the unimaginable, the unattainable (e.g. tasting the stars, catching the sunlight). Too often, and too easily, the world jumbles together into a series of undefined moments vaguely remembered or forgotten.

For example, in one of my classes, I have a student who cannot communicate her thoughts in English. Because of some developmental delays, she cannot understand the spoken language, either. However, as we watched the film “Frozen” in class, I watched her move her lips to the English words on the screen whenever a song played. It was like watching a newborn tongue her first words, making innocent, yet eloquent mistakes. In that moment, I noticed the universe. This small elegant act meant nothing to anyone else in the room; she possibly didn’t even realize what she was doing. But, for me, it broke open a huge realization. All I try to do is stumble through this unknown forming thoughts of which I do not always know the exact meaning.

But, I don’t have to know. I just have to notice.

I know that as I accumulate more years and more experience, this memory will fade, and the only recollection will be this post. And, that's fine. Because each day the universe reveals herself in a new way. This morning, my middle aged, male co-worker commented, “Kathryn, you have a splendid hair band today” revealing that I matter in some small way to him (knowledge previously unbeknownst to me). And, tomorrow, I will uncover something else.

I am not saying one should remember everything or commemorate every moment in words or photographs. I am saying that despite our inevitably failing encoding, storage, and retrieval of memories, to have them—to notice the universe. Question the shadows that play puppets on your picnic blanket. Create constellations that make sense to you. Swing on a swing knowing that “no matter how hard you kick, no matter how high you get, you can’t go all the way around” (81).

Green, John. The Fault in Our Stars. Dutton Books. New York. 2012. 

*This title (minus So,) comes directly from The Fault in Our Stars (138)

So, home is more of an idea than a place

Well, folks. I am writing to you from Korea. I just spent a phenomenal time home full of friends and family. I know I didn't get to see everyone that I wanted, and I am really sorry. 

The question that most people asked me when I saw them was, "when are you coming home?" However, the second most frequent question was, "when are you going home?" And, this separation really troubled me. People use the same word to describe vastly different parts of the wold, both of which, however, reside in me. I know I talk about home all the time on here, and I can imagine you folks throwing popcorn at the computer screen yelling, "Oh Jeebus, kid, get over it." 

This is the hardest thing for me. I cannot get over it. Believe me; I have tried. I am so blessed to have the people I have in my life. Every moment I spent in Wisconsin with my family and friends, I was reminded of the life I could have, if I had chosen it. But, then I went to pick-up tonight, and a dear friend folded me into a hug that reminded me that Korea is my home, too. 

In the past two years, I've grown a Korea family. It started in the roots of having the shared immediate experience of being ex-pats in the same place at the same time. With dinners, drinks, and conversation, I have watered my relationships, and they have grown into stout trunks and strong branches that hold the tree houses of our adventures. Yes, there are storms that may shake us up a bit. But I know that through everything, my Korea family will support me exactly when I need it. 

Of course this doesn't negate the relationships I have in Wisconsin and scattered about the globe, and I promise to nurture those more diligently than my first two years. Right now, I feel like my heart is somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with both lives vying for my full attention. In this past month--and with encouragement from one of the wisest humans I know--I have tried to change my perspective. Instead of seeing that pulling back and forth as a game of tug of war, I am allowing both sides to pull at the same time and have a rope that supports: a tightrope of emotions. 

Right now, it is reaching 2200, and I am running on fumes and struggling with jet lag something fierce. So, if none of this makes sense, it is because I wrote it pretty haphazardly and didn't really focus as much on my writing this week as I usually do. Next week, I will do better. 

Peace, love, and polar bears,

Katie