30 Days to a Better Man, Day 20: perform service

Two-thirds done!

Another caveat: you don't actually have go to out and perform the service on this day (unless, of course, the opportunity presents itself). But you should take time to at least schedule some volunteer work.

A soup kitchen in the Warsaw ghetto during World War II.

I selected Itaewon Global Village Center. They have several different volunteer activities that they do. You can pass out food to the elderly or infirm, or do the same for the poor little waifs at an orphanage, among other things. I'm curious about helping the poor while I'm here, as poverty is a taboo subject in Korea (thanks to Confucianism). The homeless and destitute are generally swept under the rug. But for the amputees panhandling in the subway station or the wild-haired bums scrounging through garbage, a foreigner might believe that there aren't any poor people in this country. And I've been wanting to volunteer at a Korean orphanage ever since I saw this.

So! I sent IGVC an application form today. I'll let you know when I get a reply from them. This is the moment when taking on a challenge like this really starts to pay off. I've always been lax with volunteering. I didn't do it enough, and I'm fairly certain it knocked me out of the running for several jobs. It left a black stain on my conscience, too. I haven't volunteered since the last balloon launch with NKP. (I'm actually in that video, by the way, at 14:10; the guy with aviator shades and the fedora, obviously.)

Be that as it may, it's high time I did something to help the South Koreans. This country's been good to me. I need to pay them back.

Stay loose for Day 21.

30 Days to a Better Man, Day 5: cultivate your gratitude

There's two parts to this challenge. Part 1 is to cultivate your personal gratitude. This means making a list of ten things that you're grateful for. The trick is to not be thankful for superficial or general things, like health, family, a good job, and so on. No, the idea here is to dig under the layers and find things, little things, that you're grateful for on a daily basis. So, without further ado, here is my spirited attempt at such a litany:

10 THINGS I'M GRATEFUL FOR:

• sunsets - Heaven knows the universe doesn't need to light up the atmosphere with all those reds and yellows and oranges and pinks, but it does, and I appreciate it. 
• Korean immigration laws - Thank goodness there's a country that lets me live in it and pretend to be a professor and teach its students and pay me through the nose, because without it my dreams and I would have been sunk long ago.
• having a job that lets me travel - Working on a professor's schedule means that I have four whole months of the year to gallivant around the world and see the sights I've wanted to see since I was twelve. You can't beat that. Two years of hagwon purgatory have suddenly become worthwhile. 
• Swedish Fish - Without those little red fish-shaped candies, no visit Miss H and I made to the Skyline Drive-In movie theater in Barstow, California would ever have been the same. She brought a few bags home with her today. Time to catch up on all the TV shows that we missed!
• Brant and Joseph, my beer-brewing buddies - I would never have had the determination or the gumption required to start home brewing in Korea by myself. Thanks to them I have a store of goodly memories to tell about my time in South Korea...and a few dozen bottles of tasty brew in my fridge.
• my mad bomber hat - Made of real leather and rabbit fur and given to me as a Christmas gift by my parents a few years back. It really keeps my head warm in winter and cuts those icy winds down to size. It'll come in handy in Hokkaido. It may seem daft to be grateful for a hat, but no other chapeau suits my personality (or my head) as comfortably as that one. 
• absurdity - For reminding us that life is fundamentally crazy on so many levels, and that we need to slow down, realize it and laugh at it before we all go nuts. Also for being my modus operandi.
• radio - For connecting people, places, ideas, news, music, politics and free-mindedness across vast distances (and even between Earth and space) long before there was TV or Internet. There's a simple sort of elegance, warmth, beauty and intimacy to radio that television and the Web both lack. Radio (and vinyl records) fostered in me my love of music — long before I bought my first CD, I had a radio on my bedside table, dial twirled to the classic rock station. It brought me The Beatles, The Who, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Coldplay, Owl City, and too many others to name. There's something about gathering around the radio set and listening to A Prairie Home Companion that no episode of Family Feud or Golden Girls can equal. 
• H.G. Wells - He didn't trust his fellow man, accurately predicted the future (grim as it was) and taught imaginative youngsters like me that there was more to life than what we could see. Good on ya, Herbert.
• flying small airplanes: Not sure who to thank for this, but Orville and Wilbur Wright and Clyde Cessna all seem like likely candidates. I don't know who or what I'd be without flight. I'm so grateful to the aviation pioneers and airplane manufacturers who allowed me to taste that heady magic previously allotted only to birds and pterosaurs (and take Miss H out on some kick-ass dates).  

The second part of this challenge is showing your gratitude to others. 

3 PEOPLE I THANKED:

Mr. A: My animator/illustrator. He's been very patient with me, and has done some pro bono work for me in the past, creating concept illustrations of my works, which I never believe I've thanked him for. I gave him a very specific and heartfelt thank-you.

Mrs. G: A very classy wife, mother, and former classmate from the High Desert. She's actually taken the time to read (truly read, and think critically about) some of my works, and give me thoughtful and helpful feedback, not the usual "your grammar sucks" or "I liked this part" blather. She is my intended audience: the person I write to when I write science fiction. I thanked her sincerely for that, and for paying attention to what I do on FB (she never fails to "like" or comment on the silly stuff I put up there, inflating my ego enormously). She also sends me neat stuff from around the Web that she finds: hilarious memes, the latest gadgets from ThinkGeek, or the coolest updates from Popular Science.

Miss H: My fiancée, of course. I took her for granted there for about 18 months of our three-and-a-half-year relationship, and am trying to cure myself of that horrendous habit forthwith. She went home to the States last week and she brought back a truckload of useful stuff for me: delicious candy and snacks, extra pajamas and workout clothes, a new eyeglasses case, and a host of other assorted gewgaws. I took her in my arms, told her I loved her, what a wonderful wife she is (even if we haven't tied the knot yet) and that I really appreciate what she did. 

There you go! I've cultivated my gratitude. This day, more than any other, I think, has been a valuable lesson for me. I let things go. I take people for granted. No more. I think I'm a little more mindful of things now (isn't that what the Buddhists, gurus and psychologists are always on about — mindfulness?). Looks like this challenge is helping me out already, and we're not even a week into it.


Stand fast for Day 6.

springtime for Postie and the R.O.K.

That was a bad reference to Springtime for Hitler, but it'll have to do. I couldn't think of anything else.

Technically it's been spring for a while now, but only today has it really felt like it. At first, the weather refused to warm up. The temperature remained stubbornly low, like a tired donkey. We even had a few freak snowstorms. Then it warmed up too quickly. I was subjected to several hazy, warm, muggy days in the low 80s, which nearly killed me. Heat and humidity do not mix. They are my meteorological Kryptonite, sucking all the energy and courage out of me, and I become a whiny, groveling, short-tempered insect.

But today...oh. Today is just gorgeous.

As you can see, the trees are leafing out, the skies are blue, the clouds are wisps of cotton, the haze is gone, and it's just a beautiful frickin' day. You can't tell from the picture, but the temperature is in the 60s (perfect for me) and there's a lively breeze that carries all the excess heat away from your body and leaves you sunny and magnanimous in its wake.

It's enough to make me forget how tough this week has been. It turns out that my predictions were...premature. Doing the presentation classes has been all right, don't get me wrong. It's my regular classes that have been nightmarish. Somehow sensing that they would be inundated with foreigners this week, and the Korean teachers would be powerless to discipline them, my elementary students have gone off the high side. They're nuts. Uncontrollable. Ungovernable. Loud. Noisy. Crazy. Rambunctious. Related adjectives and synonyms.

Moreover, my guess that I would have the period between 6:15 and 10:00 (quitting time) all to myself was a load of dingo's kidneys. The management cooked up an intriguing scheme to keep the foreign teachers busy during their down-time. We're calling our elementary students at home and chatting with them. Testing their reading comprehension. Discussing the stories we've read in class. Shooting the breeze. We talk to each student for ten minutes and then spend a few minutes uploading comments on their performance to the academy's website. This isn't so bad, but I have to do this fourteen times in a row on Wednesday and Friday. It's nothing the Korean teachers don't do every day—they have to make regular progress reports to the parents—but for a phone virgin like me, it's exhausting. I have a new respect for the Korean teachers now. They have to do this during the regular school year. Cripes.

Long story short, I've been more exhausted at the end of the day this week than I have during at any previous time.

No matter. Today's weather has made me forget it. I decided to take advantage of this auspicious gift from Mother Nature (it was as if she gift-wrapped it personally for me!). I went down to Homeplus and did some shopping. Homeplus, as I may have explained before, is a big outlet store chain, similar to Wal-Mart or K-Mart, only cleaner, more respectable, with more smartly-dressed greeters. Miss H is arriving on—

HOLY SMOKE!!!

I forgot to tell you!

Miss H is coming to Korea.

No, really! She is! Finally!

I bought her a ticket on Korean Air, and she'll be here on Monday. To say I'm excited would be the understatement of the century. She'll live with me for a few weeks and send out some lines, and then hopefully we'll get her a job at one of the English academies in my building. And there we'll be, living and working in South Korea. Together at last.

But first I have to get my bachelor pad cleaned up. I grabbed some cleaning supplies at Homeplus, like a hand vacuum and drain cleaner and whatnot. They really do have every convenience here. I wonder what I'd do for drain cleaner if I was living in Tanzania. Probably wouldn't need it. I'll have to try living in Tanzania sometime and see.

But before I went to Homeplus, I had something else I needed to do. I hadn't gotten my hair cut in three months (sound familiar?). I asked around at work and was told to find the Juno Hair Salon, on the other side of Homeplus from my apartment building. They spoke some English and it was a real class establishment. I located it without too much trouble, and walked in. The place was ritzy. Mirrored walls, glass shelves stocked with notions and fragrances, and (get this) a wine-and-cordial bar for thirsty customers. Class establishment, indeed. I was gestured to a cushioned bench and waited for 10 minutes while the staff finished a hasty brunch. Then I was ushered to a private locker room where I ensconced my coat and backpack. I climbed into a slinky sort of robe-thingy, which belted at the wast. A big soft bib was laid over that. Then, in a low-lit room with lots of strip lighting (which felt more like a private spa room at the Luxor in Las Vegas than a hair salon in Bucheon), I received a shampooing. Indeed, the whole affair was more like a spa treatment than a haircut. The woman's hands gently rendered my windblown hair clean and malleable. 

Then I sat in the chair, and the stylist put a large piece of cloth over me, the customary hair shield. (That's three anti-hair layers I'm wearing now, in case you weren't been counting.) She showed me pictures of hairstyles on her iPad. I selected the likeliest one, and she went to work. She was efficient, she was gentle, and she was talented. Her English wasn't the best, and my Korean even poorer, but nonetheless we managed something like a conversation. I traded pleasantries with her about my job and my country of origin while I gazed out the window at the sunlit streets and the majestic high-rise apartments. I tried not to stare at what she was doing. I wanted to make sure she gave me the hairstyle I wanted, not the slicked-back monstrosity that my old Korean barber wreaked on me. But she performed brilliantly. I've never been so satisfied with a haircut, and that's no exaggeration.

I was then taken in hand by the same shampooist (that's now a word, courtesy of the Postman), back to the strip-lit room. There I received a second shampooing-slash-head massage. And when I say "head massage" I mean that I thought my skull would pop open. This Korean woman had the face of a young girl, and was barely over five feet, with an alarmingly skinny figure. But she had the grip of a boa constrictor and fingers like iron bands. She worked all the pressure points and penetrated deep into the muscles of my jaw and neck. I was limp spaghetti in her hands. I gave her repeated compliments, hoping she wasn't a North Korean agent plotting to snap my spine. Don't get me wrong. The massage was enjoyable in its own unique way, even if I felt like a stubborn egg she was trying to crack open. Even now, as I flex my neck and work my jaw, there is no stiffness. And my scalp feels ready to jump off my head and take wing. Can't put a price on that. It was simply a new experience for me, the foreignness and novelty of which I reflected on even as my head was being molded like clay.

Then it was back in the chair for a quick blow-dry and styling. I politely declined the waxes and sprays. I never put anything in my hair the wind couldn't blow out of it. The stylist combed it down, straightening a few stubborn cowlicks, and set me on my way, twenty-five grand poorer. I received an enthusiastic farewell at the door from my stylist and the gorilla-fisted shampoo girl, plus a free lollipop for my trouble. I was charmed by both gestures. Ultimately, I would recommend Juno Salon to anyone in need of a new hairstyle...who also likes to have their stress wrenched away at finger-point.

And now I'm back in my apartment, telling you about it. With the hour I have left before class, I shall clean the bathroom. Guests are coming for movie night and I don't want them to get the screaming horrors upon entering that sacred room. Then I have four classes (three regular, one presentation) and about six or seven phone calls to make. Shouldn't be too bad. Friday comes with three classes and twelve phone calls, and then the blessed freedom of the weekend, which shall be spent cleaning and tidying in preparation for Miss H's arrival. I shall also explore Gwangjang Market with Andy, if there's time.

On Monday...Miss H arrives.

Heaven ensues.

you're doing it wrong

A moment of your time, if you please.

I'd like to have a few things cleared up before I proceed any further with the account of the U.K. and Ireland. This was precipitated by my most recent blogging acquisition, Talli Roland, whose most recent post held some advice for bloggers. In her post, Talli delineates ten ways to make your blog "work." These include following bloggers who follow you, and following other bloggers so they'll follow you; returning and responding to comments; keeping your posts brief; making sure your blog's color scheme and font are easy-to-read; making sure your blog loads quickly; etc. Much as I dislike the notion of abasing myself before you, a pack of spittle-soaked mendicants, and pandering to your every whim, begging for your opinion like some kind of weak-minded sycophant... I have some questions for you. Let this stand as the Sententious Vaunter's first-ever quality and customer service survey. Your responses will help keep this blog fresh, easy-to-use, reasonably priced, better tasting and less filling. I'm going to ask you a few questions and I'd like you to answer them honestly. I appreciate it.

1. Does this blog take an unreasonably long time to load? Do you find yourself waiting, drumming your fingers, humming distractedly, getting up for a cup of coffee, or cursing the Postman's name as you wait for the page to appear on the screen?
2. Is this blog easy to read? Is the font too small? Are the colors hard on your eyes? Do you find yourself collapsing into a fit of photosensitive epilepsy just trying to read the dates and titles?
3. Are this blog's posts too long? Are this blog's posts too long? Do you ever feel frustrated with the massive volume of drivel which the Postman deluges you with on a biweekly basis? Do you desire a little light reading and instead feel as though you've set out to read The Iliad or Moby-Dick?
4. Is there anything missing from this blog, or anything unnecessary on it? Would you like to see a list of back-links? Is the arrangement of widgets on this blog satisfactory, or do they need to be reordered or shuffled about? Do we really need a translations box? How many Japanese people read this blog anyway?
5. Does this blog ramble too much? Do you feel as though the posts on this blog lack focus? Ever find yourself scrolling down through a lengthy post to pick up the story again? Feel like you're waiting forever for the other shoe to drop? Does the Postman digress too much in his ramblings?
6. Are you getting tired of seeing the phrase "this blog" in every question in this survey? I hope you are, because I'm getting damn tired of typing it.
7. What color underwear are you wearing? Just checking to see if you're still awake. You don't have to answer that. Unless you really want to, of course.

Please leave a comment below and clue me in on how I'm doing. Most of these questions have been pestering me for some time, and it's high time I do something about it. If I'm going to make a permanent thing out of blogging, I might as well throw a little quality control into the business. It's only fair that you folks have at least as much fun reading this blog as I have writing it. Oops, I said "this blog" again.

should vs. shouldn't

While we're on the subject of what I should or shouldn't be doing in writing this blog, I must confess at this point that I have absolutely no clue what I'm doing. Honestly. I don't know how to be a blogger, or even if there's any right way to do it. I definitely think that I should avoid exclusively writing down how I feel about things, like so many other bubble-headed know-nothings out there in the blogsphere. I also feel like I have to be able to put down what I want to put down; otherwise it won't be personal, nor fun to keep. But I still am unsure whether I am actually, successfully carrying off a blog. I've gotten a few comments thus far, but nowhere near the numerical amount requisite to successfully audit or assess the success or efficaciousness of my work. Simply put, I have no idea whether I'm (a) being totally brilliant at putting a wide variety of interesting information and thought-provoking musings on here; or (b) merely spouting platitudes, dry anecdotes, and uninteresting drivel. I suspect the truth lies somewhere between the two. So, to that end, I seek your aid and succor. I crave your assistance. Give me some feedback. Anything. Tell me if the design stinks. Tell me if this blog is suitably informative or just so much bleating. Let me know if it's inane or provocative, dull or engaging, insipid or variegated, hackneyed or refreshing. Anything that occurs to you to put down, put down, and you'll have my heartfelt thanks. The real confirmation lies in the fact that I'm writing a post like this and I have, to date, only two followers on Blogger. Insert weak laugh here.