Another Movement

In 16 days, my time at 181 South St., Apt. A1 draws to a close. I cannot say I will miss it.

Like some have said about George W. Bush, history will decide whether my time here will be remembered fondly in some capacity. It was my first place in Morristown, my first place in my new job that will become my old job in a few months if everything goes according to the current plan. I'll move into a small room in the basement of the Morris Township-Morris Plains Patch editor for four-and-a-half months, save about $1,500 in rental cost, and then another movement. To South Korea. The story that still has not ended, over five years since it began.

Amanda and I were talking about roots, about a sense of permanency and how we both want it. Yet, I am moving again. This current move is beyond my control, except for a difference of one month: Apathetic Jamie's brother is moving back into town and so I must leave. At first, I was annoyed and offended; there are two tenants here, but A.J. knows Lauren, the byproduct if a wet sponge and boring piece of cardboard had a love child. It's not like I will miss either one. Neither is interested in missing me, or each other. Sometimes, I wonder what my overall taste for this place–Morristown, not this apartment–would have become had I lived somewhere else?

I let Kathy, the editor whose basement I am moving into, know of my intentions to go back to South Korea. She seemed stunned, maybe somewhat envious. She is older, married, with a child just graduated from college. She does not want to move to Korea, she wants my job. And, I will be more than happy to put in a recommendation for her.

But, going back to this longing for permanence, we talked about how one part of us wants that, and one part still wants to explore. The opportunity for that is now, not when we are married and settled down, which we both agree often can be longhand for "settling." And, how would we feel there? Committed to a year, so long as I do not need my spleen removed or have a panic attack that does not end until I am halfway through a 14-hour flight to the U.S. I have friends in Korea, strengthened even more since leaving by messages on Facebook. I have Amanda, whom we both would agree is one part of a complicated two-part emotional cupcake–I am the cake and she is the frosting, or she is the cake and I am the frosting. We complement each other. But, sometimes, cake and frosting are just too much. Still, I am thankful for not having lost her when we ended the relationship.

She is sitting here now, in the bed, with an odd look on her face. She sighs audibly, because the Adderall we popped hours ago has worn down to the point where neither feels particularly jubilant or depressed, but not tired. And, she cannot focus on her very first true article she has ever written. I'm glad she is here.

Now, she looks like "The Thinker."

People are complicated, and yet, they are very, very simple. If only the first 45 minutes of an Adderall high could last forever, we would all know the answer. 

Recommended

This afternoon, the second letter of recommendation arrived. I'll be getting both letters scanned and e-mailed out to my recruiter tonight.

I have to admit to have gotten slightly misty-eyed when I opened it, the manila envelope containing a very familiar letter–it should be, it's the same one my former employers at Packet Publications wrote when I went to Korea in 2010.

Even though I can say I am doing this or that, I can begin taking steps, when it feels like it's actually coming back, there is something special to that.

But, for now, I have to go to work.

Streamlined to Normalcy

I am happy to be talking to one of my best friends again.

The Story So Far

I want to share with the very few people that still receive this in their e-mail inboxes a joy of mine: the Korea Chronicles Soundtrack. I realize most people probably have not been to the actual website, but rather just read the e-mails sent whenever a new post is written. So, if you are so inclined, visit http://koreachronicles.blogspot.com and look for the soundtrack on the right side. Every song has meaning, from what I was listening to while in Jinju or Busan, or what I was listening to while preparing for the trips, or just because for some reason. It's terribly self-indulgent.

So, the story so far. I cannot go for too long in my life without change. Changes take you places, Yes said. The most recent change will take me from Morristown to Morris Township. My roommate and leaseholder sent an e-mail a few days back saying that her brother was moving back to the area in mid-April and I would have to move out. Which, is just as well, we never connected on any level. I could easily dismiss her as just a bitch, which to some extent she is, but there are just certain people who are just incredibly incompatible. So, be it.

There is a better alternative. I am moving April 1st into a guest bedroom at the home of the editor of Morris Township-Morris Plains Patch. I will pay $350 less a month and stay there for 4 and 1/2 months, until it's time to go to Korea. That's $1400 in savings. That's a credit card, gone.

My application is finished. I have two people who have agreed to send me letters of recommendation. I have submitted my federal criminal record check application. I have gotten my transcripts. I need to look for my degree, get a copy apostilled and notarized. Still need to renew my passport, which can be done by mail. I have a $1,300 queen-sized bed I bought in July that I planned to give to my dad, and he decided to downsize instead, buying a new twin. I know I paid a lot for it, but honestly, if I can find someone who can put it to good use that I know, I would be just as happy to give it to them. I almost prefer that to selling it for $300.

A new cleanse begins tomorrow. I am not going super extreme in my diet, but I am going veg., caffeine-free. No smoking, no alcohol. Wish me luck.

And, that's the story so far. Less than six months to go.

For Those For Whom I No Longer Exist

FYI, this hurts me, too. I'm not made of stone.

Yin/Yang - Delete the Past, Every Step is Pure

There is always one who hurts harder than the other. Always.

Don't believe me? If neither hurt, then there would be no problem. If both hurt, there would be no breakup.

Where are we going to be in six months?

I have my federal criminal record check request submitted. I have requested transcripts from Alfred University. I have gotten new passport photos and will be sending in my renewal shortly. One of my professors will be writing a letter of recommendation and my current boss, Louie, will likely find out sooner than I had planned about the pending adventure so I can get him to write the second one.

I hope you are being just as forward-thinking. Six months goes by very fast.

*

I have had my emotions twisted and mangled and scrambled and fucked from a breakup. In hindsight, most of it was in my head. But, that does not make it any less real. It does not make it hurt any less. I know what the pain can feel like. It's all-consuming, and it sucks. Maybe that's how I can cope so well with this now. Does that make me cold?

I know it is for the best.

Try to think like a Buddhist, even a casual one. This moment now. Delete the past, every step is pure. If you step in shit, clean it off and keep walking; it's like the shit was never even there.

It's Feb. 16–Korea is less than six months away. See how fast that was?

Lost in New Jersey

Famously, at least for me, was the time years ago when, at one of my brother's band's shows, I sat at the bar in a funk. I didn't have any money to drink, but I sat at the bar nonetheless. A friend is there and we are talking about my troubles. I don't know if there was something tied to it, a girl, a job situation. I told him, "I don't know who I am." His reply: "Man, that's dark."

I remember a time when I didn't feel that way. Yes, I still had my dark moments but, on a whole, I think I was OK. I had a lot of dreams, and time did not feel like it was running faster than I was.

My father used to run a TV repair shop. One day, he comes home with a laser printer that he needs to fix. Once it's repaired, he gives the green-light to use it, since he wants to make sure it works. I ended up spending a large part of the late evening writing hackneyed, contrived prose ripped whole cloth from the Fantasy novels I read a lot of at that time. I dreamed of being a novelist.

That has not happened. Yet. I say "yet" only because somewhere in my head, there still exists the person that knows only I can decide when to dream, and when to give up.

That's why I have such a hard time giving up on the prospect of going back to South Korea.

I let slip to a good friend of mine I saw last night that I am still thinking about going again. This time, with Amanda, whom I am currently (recently) broken up with. We decided to take a break. She initiated it. I won't go into it, since she also gets these e-mails (thus, this post is a way of cheating our and my therapist's idea that we should cut off contact for at least a month), but another good friend described it the best, and since, most often-used way: We're like two alcoholics dating each other.

My friend whom I saw last night asked me why I was thinking about it again. The only reasons in my head are the same ones I have had since 2005: adventure, something new, a way to pay down debts. But, I have a job now that makes me a lot more money than Korea ever could, even if the housing there is provided for. Amanda and I decided we wanted to go together, it would be a new adventure for the two of us. But, what if we meet up again in a month or more, and something isn't working still? What then?

Half of me wants to settle down, find a unit, something I think I had before my mother died, even if it did have some pretty significant flaws. Half of me wants the globetrotting lifestyle my friend Matt has had for a number of years. He taught in Burma, then in Taiwan, and now he's going from Taiwan to the Congo! I am envious of his life, and yet, I am not Matt. I am not Amanda. I am no one but myself. And, sometimes, I still don't know who I am.

Man, that's dark.