Word of the Day: No

This post is a bit of a rant, so proceed at your own risk.

Learning new things is part of evolution. We go from being helpless babies, to learning to standing on our own two feet, to growing into ourselves (or at least, versions of ourselves), to becoming adults with a whole mixed bag of responsibilities. When we allow ourselves to learn about who we are and about the world around us, we inadvertently become better as human beings. At least that's my take on it.

Part of my personal evolution (besides the obvious natural progression), is an effort to train myself in certain aspects. For instance, I had to learn to focus on tasks. When I was younger, I would spend a lot of time taking on various responsibilities, and could only dedicate small amounts of myself to each of them. I would bite off more than I could chew. I didn't think this was very productive, nor was it fair to the tasks I had taken on. As a result, I had to learn to manage time better in order to focus on these tasks. It's not a skill I came wired with. I had to train myself.

Lately, I've been working on something I've struggled with my entire life: Learning to say one simple word more often—No.

I can't tell you the number of times that word has haunted me. It has lived in the bottom of my throat; at the tip of my tongue; I've felt it roll from my brain to my mouth, and I've even breathed it out. Silently. But, for the life of me, I've very rarely been able to let this simple, two-lettered word move past my lips.

And I'm not sure why. More often than not, I let myself get talked into doing things I don't want to do. I end up spending more time focusing on other people's problems instead of my own, and I constantly worry about what people will think, should I choose to say no. And as a result of all this, most people have come to expect me to say 'yes' to things... all the time. Even when I don't feel like it. And I think that's no one's fault but my own.

So I've been making a conscious effort. You know, to say 'no' to things more often? It's been tough, I tell you, but so worth it. At first I was wracked with guilt. And for what? I'm not too sure. Catholic guilt (if it exists), perhaps? I would say no to things, then spend time coming up with explanations as to why I said it. Then I'd feel guilty. Surely "so and so" deserved to know why I wouldn't be her wing woman that Friday night?

But the truth of the matter is that saying no is a right. At least I'm fortunate enough to live in a country where that's the case. I have to remind myself that I can do it. Should do it more often. Shouldn't feel guilty when I do do it.

A confession? I've had to practice saying this word in front of the mirror. And it's worked. Saying this word (more than I used to, anyway), has freed up so much time for my own pursuits. And the sad reality is that it's upset quite a few people. But I wonder — should I care that I've upset people who are OK with me putting them ahead of myself all the time? I don't think so. At least I don't think so anymore.

So yes. If you hear me say no, please don't take it personally. If I do it, I probably mean it. It has taken a lot of effort on my part, and I probably won't change my mind.

Time is precious, and I'm (finally) learning to appreciate mine.

xo

Images courtesy of Google Images

Quest for Better

Another birthday passed by me last last weekend. Each year, this day becomes less significant. This one passed by in an August breeze... But it was different.

This time, to a full moon. To a meteor shower. To a big change at work. To the realization that I'm surrounded by more love and luxuries than I imagined having in my life. That last one is what I need to reflect on today.

I've been so busy focusing on all that's missing, that I've completely lost sight of what's actually here, right within arms reach.

I realize my last couple of posts seemed a bit melancholy, and to be honest, quite depressing. Looking back, and knowing what I know now, I realize things weren't that bad.

But I guess that's just it, right? When you're experiencing a shift in your life, whether good or bad, it seems like the biggest thing at that moment. It's so easy to lose sight of the big picture.

I've always been an optimist. Well, no. My friend, S, might beg to differ, actually. But I think more often than not, I've been more 'glass half full' than 'glass half empty'. Perhaps that's why you all freak out when you stumble across one of my oh-so-tragic posts. (Sorry about that by the way. Yikes!)

So in keeping with the optimism, I should say I'm grateful. I know it's a matter of perspective, but I'm fortunate enough to be one of the 7 billion people on this planet who has access to a lifestyle that most only dream of. I have safety, food, clothing, a job, friends, hobbies... and I have opportunities.

That last one is a biggy. It's a perk. Opportunities arise out of chance and circumstance, and when they present themselves, we should jump all over them. Why take for granted a luxury not known to so many?

So my goal in the coming months is to continue being grateful for all this and more. Every day is an opportunity to do better and to be better. And I want to be better.

Xo
Simi

Memories that were

Its a funny thing, life. Full of ups and downs, twists and turns, and other similar cliches. Never consistent, really. And through it all there exists this invisible club that dictates a set of rules you should abide by in order to classify your life as 'normal'.

What does that word really mean, anyway? 'Normal.' Anyone who thinks they have this whole life business figured out is in even more denial than Michael Jackson was about his sexuality. (Too soon?)
I'm writing this post today because I once again find myself at a very strange juncture in life.

Perhaps it's because I've disconnected so much lately, or perhaps it's because I've forced myself to grow up a lot over the past couple of years (I'm not sure). But I find myself looking at past experiences in my life with renewed perspective. Where before, merely minutes, days, and sometimes even months after said experiences, I would look back and become overwhelmed with raw emotions, (some of which were quite paralyzing), I now find I'm able to look back and compartmentalize the exact feelings I felt during those moments.

A for instance? Well, Craig Armstrong's songs from the Love Actually soundtrack would always make me well up with tears. Why? Christmas 2009. You can check the archives to get an idea of what was going down at that time. It's a bizarre fact to share, but let me explain. For months and months, every time I heard the familiar notes for Prime Minister's Theme, I'd lose it. Not sure why (well, yes...). And Joni Mitchell? Done.

But now all of a sudden when I hear those songs, I'm transported back to the memory that evoked these ridiculous emotions, and I'm content. I don't go through the psychological motions of it any more. It almost feels like I'm watching a movie.

Perhaps I can equate it to something we can all relate to. You know how you'd feel when you liked a girl or boy in grade school (and for some of us, even later), only to find out they didn't feel the same way? Then you know how the emotions would consume you beyond rational thought, to the point where you would feel like your only shot at love and happiness had gone the ways of the dodo? And you know how you spent days on end after that, feeling like you'd never get over it, only to wake up one morning and not have it be the first, second or last thought in your mind?. ...Yea? Well that's sort of what it feels like right now.

I look back on those moments/memories and not only think about the experience, but also think about the way I acted/reacted to them in the days that followed. And then I can't help but laugh.

Why is it that things always appear so much larger than life in the moment? It's almost guaranteed that down the road, if you get through it, the moment will appear as a fragmented speckle in the filing cabinet that is your memory.

I suppose it's easy to lose perspective during experiences that evoke intense emotions. At least in my case. But it's nice to reach a place in life where something that initially absorbed so much thought and mental energy, no longer does. The realization that life's emotional roller coasters eventually have dips and lulls is fantastic. Especially when you initially believed the ride would never end.

I've really come to appreciate the moments not clouded with chaos and uncertainty. And I look forward to the days after a roller coaster where I'm not replaying the ride in my mind... On loop.

It's nice to be able to look back on a memory as a painting on display in the art gallery that is your life. Isn't it?

xo

Image courtesy of Google Images

A Royal Pain

You knew it was coming.

We're merely a few days away from what has been tagged as 'The wedding of the century' and I think I'm about to lose my mind. First of all, how can we call something the 'anything' of the century, when we're just over a decade into it? Anyway...

What's with all this media hype over Prince William and Kate Middleton's wedding? For the past five months, almost every entertainment channel, news network, and niche program has been focusing on the impending nuptials of England's future king.

I get it, I suppose -- He's Princess Diana's oldest son, and royal watchers (do such people actually exist?) have been waiting for this day since poor Wills was born. And I guess I always knew it would be kind of a big deal. But not like this! Plus, I love how they've pegged her as a 'commoner' when she's anything but. Are they forgetting that Miss Middleton is the heiress to a wonderful fortune? When I think of the word 'commoner', I expect a Cinderella-type, rags to riches story. Someone who paid her way through school with part-time jobs and student loans.

Still, they fell in love, and they're together, and that's awesome.

But...

It seems to me like every show in every time-slot from CNN (they're sending a staff of 400 people to cover this event) to the Food Network has somehow managed to incorporate the royal wedding into their programming.

"What will they serve?"

"Who will she wear?

"Will she produce an heir and a spare?"

Seriously? Is there nothing better to broadcast, write, tweet or blog about? I get that the media covers news as it's happening, and focuses on the big stories... but this would never have become a big story if we didn't let it.

Then there's the tabloids...

"Will Harry ruin William's big day?"

"What does the Queen really think of Kate?"

"The Diana curse... exposed!"

Are they ever having a field day with this or what? Looks like there won't be a 'slow news day' for a while.

Ugh! And then there's the Royal Wedding paraphernalia. There's everything from commemorative mugs (the mistake on this mug kills me), to commemorative barf bags. And just when I thought they'd covered everything, along came commemorative air. Yep. Now you can purchase a bottle of air from the area around Westminster Abbey, for the low, low price of... your dignity.

And let's talk about the blue sapphire engagement ring, shall we? It's beautiful, it's an heirloom... some people might argue that it's cursed and it's a questionable choice, all things considered *ahem! Elton John*, but the point is, it's romantic and a wonderful story.

What gets me are the ads running on TV, stating that you too can purchase a copy of this ring for the low, low price of $29.99, and that it comes with a certificate of authenticity... Hmm. Something about that doesn't sound quite right, does it?

Everyone is trying to make a buck off this wedding. I suppose one can argue that it's bringing the world together in a sense. But recent polls show that people in the U.K. itself can't wait for the hooplah to end. We, in North America are more excited about this wedding than the locals. What does that say about us?

I'm not anti-wedding, or anti-romance or any of that fun stuff. But for heaven's sake, put a cork in it already! I can't turn on the TV without being forced to think about this wedding. I've channel surfed and hit the mute button more in the past few months than ever before.

I really thought I was alone with my feelings, until I stumbled across this gem of support. I don't care about the Royal Wedding is a blog entry on Thought Catalog, about how one guy doesn't have any more room in his reality TV lineup for another piece of pop culture. It's pretty entertaining. The writer is mad, and he doesn't care who knows about it.

Seriously, Wills and Kate, I wish you two the best of luck, and a lifetime of love and happiness. But I can't wait for you to retreat into matrimonial bliss, so that the world can go on with its regular programming.

xo

Image courtesy of Google Images

A toad by any other name

I've been meaning to share this story with you all for quite some time now, but my biggest fan and number one critic (Mama C) didn't know about it, and I was afraid to tell her. But thanks to my lovely sibling, she's been enlightened, and now I'm free to share it with all of you.

So, here we go!

The back story.

A few weeks after moving back to Toronto from Seoul, I decided I needed to get out of my slump and meet new people. You might have read about my feelings upon moving back (if not, check out A year in a dream), but suffice to say, I felt left behind while all my friends had moved on in their respective lives, careers, romances, etc. So I thought the most logical thing to do at that time was to try online dating. It seemed easy enough -- you log in, create a profile, upload a photo, and consider your options.

A few friends were lucky enough to meet their significant others online, so I thought this was a good sign. Mind you, the sites they joined ranged from the popular ones you could join for free (my first big mistake in this endeavour), to the more complicated ones that involved filling out a questionnaire about 10 pages long.

So one Wednesday afternoon, after waking up confused about the date and time again, (an awful reaction to jet-lag), I joined the online dating world. I won't plug the website here, but I'll say this -- for a site that says they have a lot of fish, it sure doesn't have a variety. I think this is one of those cases where quality over quantity DOES matter.

I dove straight in.

I filled out the basic profile information -- age, sex, location, physical attributes, what I was looking for, interests. They seemed like basic enough questions that would matter when searching for a suitable partner online. Then came the other questions that set off a red flag in my mind, but which I filled out anyway -- race, body type, religion, political views...

Those of you who know me will agree that I'm more of a mind over matter kind of person. Sure, I like a great smile and broad shoulders just a much as the next person, but given the choice, I'll take a witty conversation, a sense of humour and intellectual stimulation over dead air, fancy dinners and kisses any day. (Yep, you read that right).

The usual suspects.

Within minutes of uploading my profile, I was inundated with messages. OK, that sounds a little pompous, but bear with me. I realized very quickly that women on online dating sites bear the brunt when it comes to filthy, bizarre and borderline creepy messages. They ranged from one liners about my race, to questions about my personal habits. Mind you, this was without an introduction. An even more creepy aspect was the age range of the guys sending these messages -- anywhere between 19 to 65. Just about any guy with a pulse and a libido, eh?

Within a few days I learned to filter the messages. I set up a criteria for myself and ruled out any messages that were one liners composed in broken English, (I will not date someone who doesn't know the difference between your and you're, to and two. We learn the difference between these words in grade 3, and the invention of spell-check does not give you an excuse to slack off on that matter. Phew! Sorry. Obviously a touchy subject.), or contained any reference to my race or religion from the get go.

I've never considered race or religion to be factors in my dating pursuits, and I know that I'd expect the same from anyone I was with. I hoped that with the turn of the century and with globalization these wouldn't be factors for anyone. I would never want to be with someone who only wanted to date me because I was X race or X religion. That would be a recipe for disaster from the gamut.

Along came J*

A few weeks and many disappointments later, I found myself weaning off the idea of online dating. I started to realize I preferred meeting people in real life. I mean, not that this wasn't real life, but this idea of quantity over quality was killing me. And I was becoming more jaded with each new message received with the title, "Yo baby! Ssup?!" I decided to give myself a chance for a couple more weeks, before deleting my profile from this pool of fish all together.

One night I received the following message in my inbox.

Subject: Dear Pretty Lady
Message: I am a PhD graduate from ******, where I specialized in ****** research. I am also an Indian Catholic just like you, and you know how rare we are in Canada. I am kinda bored this evening. Would you like to chat? :)
- J

I didn't reply back to him because I was turned off by the idea that he found my profile by typing 'Indian' and 'Catholic' into his search box. If these were important factors to him, then I knew we wouldn't get along. I figured not responding to him would mean I wasn't interested. This had worked in the past with messages from other guys, and I also figured it was the universal way of telling people you weren't interested in them (at least in this strange world of online dating).

Five minutes later, I received the following message.

Message: How come all the Pretty Indian Catholic girls are in Toronto, and I am stuck here in Vancouver? It's not fair. :)

Again, he emphasized the whole Indian Catholic thing. Now I knew for sure we wouldn't gel. But at this point I was also quite irritated and felt inclined to respond back with something snarky and mean. Instead, all I could come up with was this:

Message: I'm sure there's tons in Vancouver. Maybe you're not looking in the right places.

I guess he took this as a good sign (and now, I see how he could have), because I found an instant message pop up from him (the site had instant messaging?!). We talked for maybe five minutes. He asked me a bunch of questions about myself, and I tried to remain as short and civil to him as possible. I excused myself and told him I had to go offline, and said goodbye. It ended with him asking me to send him my contact information.... which, of course, I didn't.

The following morning, I received this message.

Subject: Dear Pretty S
Message: I enjoyed chatting with you this evening, and I am happy that you are a Goan. If you are interested, you can read about some of my best scientific research available from the ****** website. Anyway, I was planning to go to Hawaii in November, but it is hard to find a nice Indian Catholic girl to accompany me. So I was thinking if you would like to take a couple weeks off in November, perhaps you could visit me in Vancouver for a few days and then we could go from here. If you book your flight to and from Vancouver, I will pay for our trip to Hawaii. We would have a great time. When you are in Vancouver, I could teach you how to ski, and then when we get to Hawaii, I could teach you how to surf. :) I haven't really dated that much, but I am looking for a long term relationship with a lady that I could potentially marry someday. Please let me know if you are interested?
Best Regards,
- J (He also included his e-mail address and phone number in the message.)

This wasn't really happening, was it? ANOTHER emphasis on the whole Indian Catholic thing? Should I have told him that I barely made it to Sunday mass every week? Should I have indicated in my profile somewhere that being Indian doesn't define who I am and what I do on a daily basis? And to top that off... a free trip to Hawaii, ONLY IF I came on my own to visit him in Vancouver first? After a five minute chat?! This couldn't be real.

So I made a mental note to remove my race and religion from future online dating profiles (yet to happen). And even if he found me based on those factors, I would assume one look at what I wrote on my profile would drive him away, screaming, in the opposite direction -- we seemed like complete opposites as far as our priorities in life were concerned. So I ignored this message as well, figuring that not responding to a trip to Hawaii would drive home the point that I wasn't interested.

Then, a few days later, I received this message.

Subject: S, I like your eyes...
Message: ...because they are almost as narrow as mine. It was once said that evil spirits enter into wider eyes. So at least we don't have to worry about that. :)
- J

At this point, I was starting to get amused. I shared these messages with a friend of mine, who said, "You know, in all the time I've known you, I've never looked into your eyes and thought, 'Gee, S has really narrow eyes!'"

My own mum went into shock when she read this message recently. "For a scientist he sure does believe in old-wives tales a lot, huh?" she said.

As you can imagine, I still didn't respond back. But I also didn't think he was worthy of being blocked. After all, it wasn't too bad yet... right?

A few days later...

Subject: S, your eyes remind me...
Message: ...of the beauty of a tranquil Vancouver sunset gently glistening over the peaceful pacific blue.
- J :)

OK, this was nice. But if this hadn't been preceded by the string of bizarre and kind of creepy messages, I would have been flattered. I know by this point you're thinking, "Why haven't you responded to him yet?!" Or, "You're leading him on..." (How so?)

Here's the thing... I can't bring myself to tell someone, flat out, that I'm not interested in them. And I know a lot of you share my fear. I've had people do it to me in the past, and I know you, dear reader, have either had it happen to you, or have done it to someone else. I don't condone this, but I do think it's a better tactic than leading someone on with false hope. (Don't you think that's far worse?)

Wouldn't you figure that if someone hasn't responded to your handful of messages by now, that they weren't interested? Wouldn't you think that someone with a PhD would put the pieces together somehow?

No.

A few days later...

Subject: Dear Pretty S,
Message: I think you should get to know me. I don't drink alcohol or coffee because I don't take drugs and caffeine is a drug. If I get bored or depressed, I just run for miles and miles on the downtown Vancouver seawall. I am a (Ivy League)-educated scientist with a background in ******, ******, ******, and ******. To be honest, I am actually looking for a long term relationship with a lady I can marry someday. Although I am 35, I have better strength and stamina than most 25 year olds, and I have a healthy 102-year old Grandfather, so I am really only one third through my life.

If we are compatible, I am sure I can provide you with a wonderful and happy life in Vancouver, and it is only a five hour plane ride away from your family in Toronto which you can visit anytime. I believe that we could bring much happiness to each other's lives and to the lives of our families. Perhaps we could chat on skype video sometime?

Best Regards,
- J

Where do I begin...?!
1. I love how he assumed that if we got together I'd drop everything and move to Vancouver to live with him. Talk about an antiquated manner of thinking.
2. He's assuming he's a third though his life -- he could get hit by a bus tomorrow and be 100 per cent through his life (morbid, I know, but it's the truth).
3. If he thinks coffee is a drug, then that fact alone would set us miles apart. I love my cuppa java in the morning, and a nice cuppa tea in the evening. And sometimes, I like a glass of Merlot. And on hot days, I'll indulge in a margarita or two. I guess that makes me (and 99.9 per cent of the planet) a drug addict.

A few HOURS later, I received this.

Subject: S, I am not that good at mind reading.
Message: Also, I never really understood the concept of taking a hint? :) Please let me know what you thought about my previous messages because I would like to get to know you better. Thanks S.
- J

And finally, the last straw.

Message: Dear S, I once wanted to be a journalist, but I let it pass me by in favour of science. In journalism, we look for the crisis around us. In science, we cherish the universe that surrounds us. That is why I became a scientist.
- J

And with that, I blocked him, deleted my profile from the pool of fish, and vowed never to take online dating seriously again. It may work for a lot of people out there, but it clearly isn't for me right now.

I couldn't believe this guy. He insulted me for being in journalism... but the saving grace was AT LEAST I was a Goan.

Really? Is this what's left to deal with?

Dear readers, I would LOVE it more than anything if you shared some of your stories with me. Am I alone in my experiences? Do you have a funny or horrifying online dating story worth sharing?

Please join in the discussion on the blog's Facebook group or comment on this post. I can't possibly be alone in my experiences... can I?

xo




Image courtesy of Google Images
*Name has been changed for the sake of discretion.

100 countdown

I seem to have come full circle.

This past week was absolutely emotionally draining for me. I received some news from home that shook me up a little bit, adding to an already exhausted body from some experiences in the weeks prior.

But, I'm OK now. It's funny how sometimes in life, we find ourselves moving forward without looking at what's gone by, when what we really need to do is stop and take a moment to reflect on what's happened.

This week, I plan to rest. I have to. May has chugged on forward, taking me through a tailspin of emotions and feelings that I haven't experienced in a long time.

I mentioned not too long ago that I plan on finishing my contract and heading back to Toronto at the end of August. Although I'm not heavily concerned about my lack of employment upon getting back, I am worried about my... self.

I wonder if the self I encountered in Korea will go back with me to Toronto. On many levels, I want her to. My mum asked me the other day if I feel less confused about life now, than I did before. I couldn't really answer her properly because I'm not quite sure. Experiences that I've had here have made me question my beliefs and thought processes a little bit.

As an example, what I've been dwelling on recently is this: Is what I say I want in life, really what I want? Or am I just saying it because I know it's what other people want for me?

I bet you're laughing! I find myself laughing at the silliness of it all sometimes as well.

But as the days pass by, I can't help but hope that the lessons I've learned here will continue on with me as I rebuild what I left back in Toronto. A positive to all this is that I finally feel ready to face situations that I've put on the back-burner for far too long. That feigned strength I used to put on all those months ago, finally feels real.

On a completely different note, last Saturday was Teacher's Day in Korea. As a result, I received a stream of letters from students in various grades, expressing their thoughts about English class and... well... me! One student even paired her letter with a box of throat candy because she was sad I'd been sick for these past couple of months. I tell you, these simple gestures go a long way in helping make up for the chaos I'm put through sometimes.

One of my letters read as follows:

Hello ~ S teacher!
Today is the day of Teacher!!
I thank you unconditionally because you do many things for me.
For example, you learned my name by heart, you smile every day and you inspect my English diary.
I want to be good at English. Please help me ~ keep it up.
I don't know if this is the right grammar?
But, are you OK?
Do you know my mind? I love you ~ and I respect you.
You are very pretty ~ more than a flower.
It's true. Believe me please.
I love you x100000000000000000.
Have a nice day.
Oh!! Can you inspect my English diary next week?
I will also write on the weekend.
Bye bye! ~ See you next week.

I must say, I teared up a bit at this. I've never received such genuine gratitude in my life. I didn't expect it, really. This particular student keeps an English diary and brings it to me everyday. We sit and spend a few minutes looking over her entries, while discussing her thoughts and ideas. It's actually one of the most rewarding experiences for me as well. It's during times like these when I feel like I'm actually making a positive impact on them.

Sigh! I will definitely miss these moments.

xo
SC

An eight-month mash-up

Last year at this time, I was processing the paperwork that would eventually land me on the other side of the planet for at least a year. It seems like a lifetime ago, really, because an unbelievable amount of things have happened since.

I still remember my reasons for wanting to quit my job at an up and coming, national magazine in Canada, and move to an unknown part of the world, to do a job I wasn't exactly trained to do.

It all came down to my desire for a challenge. I knew of many people who had taken the same path, following a similar trend: they'd finished school and moved to Korea to work, travel, pay off student loans, and simply, find themselves.

Though I was of a similar thought process, my hunger for a challenge outdid any of these reasons. I'd felt it was time to take off from the nest and do something different. Something for me. Something that would add to my life, and to the person I wanted to become.

So last August, after never having been anywhere by myself, I took the long flight to where I am right now: Seoul, South Korea... and it's been eight months since.

I can't tell you where the time has gone. Some days felt like they were on fast-forward, while others seemed to drag on by (especially during the long, cold winter). Yet, regardless of what I was doing, or who I was with on those days, I know for a fact that I'd never trade these past eight months in for anything.

But last Friday, I finally said six words to my co-teacher that I'd dreaded saying aloud.

"I won't be renewing my contract," I announced to Mrs. P, over lunch.

Though I knew for certain that I was ready to end my journey in Korea, I wasn't prepared for her reaction... or that of the other teachers in the lunchroom.

Suffice to say, she was sad and rather heartbroken. She kept mouthing the Korean equivalent of, "What will we do?" over and over again, while choking back sobs. It was an awkward situation to say the least, as she tried to make me change my mind.

"What about the students? They like you so much. You are so kind to them. They are speaking a lot more English than ever before!" she said... almost in hysterics.

I knew this was true. I also knew that I'd grown attached to the students in ways I never thought possible. It's true, they'd opened up a lot more since I first came to the school. They were more confident in their speaking abilities, and were even willing to take on more work to improve their English. All of this was a huge shift from last semester.

It was more than any ESL teacher could ever ask for. I knew long ago that one of the saddest parts of leaving my job here, would be having to say goodbye to the students.... but I knew I had to do it.

I'm ending my journey in Korea and headed back to The Big Smoke at the end of August. A year has been the perfect amount of time for what I needed to do.

Somewhere between teaching some 700+ Korean middle school girls each week, and trying to adjust to the newness of this part of the world, I figured a few things out.

For one, I've gotten to spend quality time with myself. I've learned, in truth, how I react to the good and bad things that happen to people on a daily basis -- honest emotions... many of which are new. I've made mistakes and recovered from them.

Without influence, I've figured out (to some extent), that there are things I like and dislike. For instance, I like being put in situations where I have to meet and talk to people I don't know. I'm good at it. I don't like it when I'm forced to make small talk with people I do know. It drives me absolutely bonkers.

I've learned that sometimes, quality time alone is exactly what the doctor ordered when facing an existential crisis. Crying is therapeutic. Laughing is reviving and energizing. Dancing alone to old 90s hits is amusing and silly... but still fantastic!

People watching is good. Staring blatantly is not.

I'm not a foodie by any means... but I do enjoy seafood days during lunch in the school cafeteria.

I love walking. Everywhere. Walking clears my mind, energizes my soul, and allows me to look at what's beyond the four walls of my shoebox.

Speaking of shoe boxes, I've realized I don't need a lot of space to be happy. Just a space to call my own. Everyone needs that... even if it's a closet to escape to, during chaos.

I've been surprised by strangers who've shown me more kindness than I expected, and have been surprised by people who have disappeared when I thought they'd be there.

The best part is that despite what seems like global chaos and disorder, I've learned that the world is a beautiful and kind place, where there's more forms of love and generosity than there's hatred and selfishness.

And finally (for now), I've spent amazing amounts of time getting to know the love of my life.

My love's been there for me through every obstacle and triumph... through moments of solitude and spells of socializing... through mental chaos and clarity.

My love's helped me work a lot of things out, and has rewarded me through the good times. My love was a constant companion long before this journey began, and will continue to be, through the next chapters.

You know my love almost as much as I do. You know my writing.

And thank you for spending time with it, commenting on it, and talking to me about it. It's helped me in more ways than you can ever imagine, during moments when you wouldn't believe it could have made a difference.

So thanks for being there for me, everyone. Four more months, and I'll be packing up for a new challenge. I'm terrified, but looking forward to it.

xo
SC

Writing voice

One of the greatest and strangest things about being a writer on the Internet, is the idea that people can read your work from anywhere in the world, with the simple click of a button.

Straight From The Curls has been alive and thriving on the WWW for over two years. Never would I have imagined in July 2007, that there'd be people from places such as Iran and Tunisia, stumbling towards my words and getting to know parts of me. Its thrilling and nerve wracking all the same.

But what's even more interesting is me, as a writer, stumbling across blogs by my fellow readers, and noticing that they've adapted parts of my writing style to their own work. I tell you, there's nothing more surreal than reading a blog that's not your own, and noticing your flow of thought with someone elses words. Or even your shorthand and 'isms' that make your blog your own... living on a different page. I had this experience the other night, and it took me all of ten seconds to realize I wasn't anywhere near SFTC.

Upon talking to the writer, she admitted that she does read my blog a lot and likes my writing style. She even said she knowingly adopted the style, because she wanted to protect the people she mentioned in the post, and liked a technique I used at SFTC. Fair enough, I suppose and I do feel honoured.

I guess the thing that got me thinking, is that it's taken me a while to find my voice on the WWW. People now come to SFTC expecting a certain tone, flow and train of thought that's uniquely mine. So... I guess I've become protective of it, as a writer. I'm at a place now where my readers get it. I can simply sit at my computer and type... as it is in my mind. And from feedback, you, dear readers, tell me that you hear my voice in your heads. I think that's the biggest compliment that I could ever receive at this moment. So, thank you!

If you're writing... find your voice and make it your own. It will take time, but you'll be glad you did!

xo
SC