A Geek Tragedy

recapturing the story.

abby_cake — Thu, 17 May 2012 11:18:58 +0000

I’ve had a blog for a long time, at least 10 years. I blogged on livejournal, xanga, free open diary, myspace, blogspot, tumblr, et all. But I find myself happiest on a cleanly formatted, san-serif, dot com (i.e. here).

I came up with my blog name “A Geek Tragedy” when I was in college. I was majoring in literature, drinking too much, and playing a lot of Final Fantasy XI. It seemed to encompass all that I was. My essence: in three simple words.

As time has progressed, a lot less geek and a lot more tragedy has transpired than I originally intended. However, I remain a geek — or to have Jared explain it: “Some people get to be weird sometimes, but you just are weird. All the time.” — and the tragedy bit has quite accurate. It’s safe to say, the title has stood the test of time. And although I could probably repackage my essence at this point (as Amy, and many others, have done successfully), I don’t really want to. I am a geek tragedy.

Confession time: I’ve almost stopped blogging in the past. When I was younger, the Internet gave me a space for myself, and blogging was an integral part of it. Now, I have forgone the trappings of my misspent Internet-obsessed youth, and only the blog remains.

I got serious (in bold) about blogging while I was unemployed last year. In search of purpose, I joined new communities, made friends, even attended my first blog conference. For a month (December 2011) I wrote every day. I turned my thoughts and inspiration into words in an attempt to find the fabled niche. I mean, isn’t that what we are supposed to do as bloggers? Define ourselves, brand ourselves, discover our special corner of the internet — and then capitalize on it.

However, I have reached a point of disillusion with the blogs I was reading before heading off to South Korea.

Months ago, when I began my “I have to get rid of everything before I move overseas” spree, I discovered the plethora of minimalist blogs lurking in the dark depths of the Internet. The Internet suddenly seemed to open up like a budding rose and I learned all the lingo of a new niche: minimalist, nomadic, untether, connect, disengage. With this new vocabulary at my disposal I discovered blogs, G+ circles, books — all of them encouraging me and inspiring me. This was a happy time.

However, lately I have come to find that many of the bloggers who I avidly admired are more like walking billboards for their .99 cent Amazon books than the real and interesting people I sought out in the first place. I miss their story, I need the realism. I don’t crave the Utopian bullshit. I don’t like when people pretend that life is all gumdrops and unicorn farts — the “faking it” concept is part of why I disappeared from Facebook. I don’t enjoy tacky pop-ups, headers, and insistence that I have to pay in order to read their “best work.” I must be content with the free gruel for the Internet serfdom.

Let’s face it, the Internet is a free trade exhibit that everyone should be excited to be a part of. I’ve been participating in it long enough to have my ideas stolen and copied, to start, maintain, and lose friendships solely online, to gain and lose interests, to discover different ways to connect — it’s been a good ride. However, if you have something to offer the world, share it! Don’t try to patent it before you even know if it’s good.

A while back, I paid $30 for a program from a blogger I greatly admired. It promised to change my writing style and open up new worlds for me. When I downloaded the package and excitedly opened it to discover the wonderful lotus blossom awaiting me, I was dismayed to discover that what I had bought into was nothing more than an organization tool — and one I could have easily replicated on my own. A few folders with flowery labels and some stolen quotes for motivation. I was so disappointed at being duped by someone I admired that I largely emptied out my gReader, created a new G+ account, and stopped participating so avidly on Twitter. In an ironic twist of fate, I turned the minimalist concept of “untethering” against them. The student became the master.

I actually lost several followers when I began to blog about my travel adventures, and less about my how-to life manual (which I still enjoy writing). I know A Geek Tragedy may never make me any money — but that’s not why I write here. I write for the pure, mellifluous outpouring that blogging gives me. I write for a mild state of euphoria.

Lazily, I found myself scrolling through blogs at work this week and discovered some of my long-time favorite people have been experiencing doubts and disillusionment as well, read more: here, here, and I recently discovered another good one, here.

I decided I would take their advice, I need to focus on my story, rather than a niche, or promotion, or comparison. I am me, I am in South Korea, I am a teacher, I write about that sometimes — if people don’t want to read it, that’s okay. And I know my blog will continue to evolve; it has to, because I will.

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the omnivore’s dilemma.

abby_cake — Tue, 15 May 2012 10:00:19 +0000

Look away or opt out.

I can’t seem to escape the mantra repeating in my head.

Look away or opt out.

This blog has chronicled my hesitant journey toward becoming a vegetarian, maintaining it for a year, becoming an un-vegetarian; and now I am, in a word, omnivorous. I still feel borderline uncomfortable speaking publicly about my meat-eating and accompanying reservations being that I am a vegetarian turncoat and all, but I suppose that’s what makes for good discussion.

I know about CAFOs, I know how industrial meat is processed, I know the conditions, the health concerns, and the dangers. However, I chose to give up vegetarianism in order to better assimilate into a meat-eaters world in a foreign country where I couldn’t ask: “does this stock use beef?” I also disliked the inherent elitism that vegetarianism caused me to feel. But most accurately, my feelings about being a vegetarian can be summed up quite neatly by Michael Pollan in The Omnivore’s Dilemma:

“Even if the vegetarian is a more highly evolved human being, it seems to me he has lost something along the way, something I’m not prepared to dismiss as trivial. Healthy and virtuous as I may feel these days, I also feel alienated from the traditions I value: cultural traditions like Thanksgiving turkey, or even franks at the ballpark, and family traditions like my mother’s beef brisket at Passover. These ritual meals link us to our history along multiple lines — family, religion, landscape, nation, and, if you want to go back much further, biology.”

I realized, somewhere in the middle of tofu and lentils, that I missed being a part of regular meals. I missed just sitting down and beginning a conversation at dinner, rather than having to first ask if there was bacon fat in the greens, or enduring a joke about how vegetarians have saggy boobs. I missed backyard bbq’s and homecooked sausage gumbo. I missed opting for something lean and delicious at a restaurant, like shrimp and chicken pasta, and being forced to settle on an entree piled with cheese. I felt isolated from the people around me.

Also, I began to wonder where I should draw the line. Was I still a vegetarian if I ate scallops or mussels? What about fish? Or canned tuna? What about chicken, only on the weekends? Should I drink soy milk, almond milk, or lowfat milk? Should I feel guilty about enjoying eggs, even though they are a cheap source of protein? I became increasingly frustrated with the labels and half-truths perpetuated by the veg culture.

The truth is, I did feel really healthy when I was eating all vegetables. Yet, I often craved meat. And toward the end of my veg journey, I was relying far too heavily on processed food (ex: textured veg protein, microwave meals, Sonic Cheddar Peppers). And there’s a large part of me that thinks eating humanely raised, antibiotic free, chicken, or even canned tuna, is far better than all the store-bought, over-processed food that kept my vegetarian label in tact. I decided: if my body craves meat, I should honor that craving rather than attempt to suppress it.

For now, I am neither looking away nor opting out — I am simply trying to “get right” with what I feel and accept my moral, regional, and guttural inclinations.

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a day in the life.

abby_cake — Sun, 13 May 2012 06:28:12 +0000

This was my Friday.

I wake up at 8AM, my hair always looks this awesome.

Then, we headed out to get a Cafe Latte & Green Tea Latte at Paris Baguette. The cafe culture in Korea is simply overwhelming, they are obsessed with Paris and coffee. Paris Baguette is closest to our work and we like to walk around to kill a bit of time before beginning the day.

There is construction going on outside of our hagwon. The noise is often distracting, but the people watching is excellent.

This is where we work. Enter with caution.

We finished the day by catching a late night movie: The Avengers in 4D. It was my first 4D movie experience, and it was complete sensory overload. I was beaten, vibrated, tossed about, misted, assaulted with smells, and air bursts. I actually shouted in alarm a few times. Call me old-fashioned, but I still like my movies in 2D.

Enjoy your weekend!

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stop asking permission.

abby_cake — Wed, 09 May 2012 10:00:29 +0000

I am pretty awesome is my number one personal affirmation.

Most of us are pretty awesome. And yet we spend so much time doing the opposite of awesome — worrying, stressing, analyzing, stalling, procrastinating, excuse-making.

Whenever I make a big decision in my life I have a nasty habit of asking other people’s opinions, thus inciting my less than awesome personality aspects.

My first-child-syndrome causes me to require some kind of external encouragement or reward when it comes to accomplishing a task or coming up with a creative idea. To put it bluntly: when I do good, I want a damn cookie!

But most people’s reactions are (feign shock) often negative. As it turns out, not a lot of people are fond of short hair on girls, or support giving up a comfortable existence to live in a leaky apartment and work at a school where you can’t speak to half the people, or “wasting” money on a Master’s degree I will most likely never finish.

And when other people are not excited about my plan of action I become discouraged. I pelt myself with a maelstrom of negativity. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea … Maybe it would be a waste of money.” Worry. Anxiety. Excuse making. Stress.

This year, I’ve been working diligently to avoid letting the happiness haters get me down. I’ve located their presence in my life, and have been working at methodically eliminating their influence. But lately I’ve been wondering why do I ask their opinion at all? Why do I need other people to be excited for me? Isn’t it enough that I am excited about the prospect of trying something new? Or living somewhere different? Or eating something questionable? Or learning something I didn’t know?

This year has been all about me, and exploring, and not having nagging goals. And:

I am no longer asking for permission to be awesome.

All the decisions in my life haven’t been perfect (some of them have just been plain bad), but they have been my decisions. I had the opportunity to experiment, learn, and enjoy miscellaneous pieces of each one. Even if the jigsaw came apart in the end. Maybe I didn’t succeed in the traditional sense. And maybe I could have spent that tuition money on a car (or something else adult-y), but the truth is I enjoyed learning! I liked being in class; I met interesting people; I read new things. Maybe I didn’t get a degree, but I definitely walked away with a clearer understanding of what I want, and what I am already good at.

Instead of being disappointed or worrying that I let other people down, I am going to focus on the fact that I am living! And although I have been attempting to live for myself – I am no longer requesting parking validation on the road not taken.

I am awesome.

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elusive citrus & street art.

abby_cake — Mon, 07 May 2012 02:51:01 +0000

Ex-pats love to hate Itaewon, the area of Seoul nearest the US military base. It used to be quite seedy, but now it’s a tourist hub filled with eclectic restaurants. The food is what drew us down there Saturday afternoon — it being Cinco de Mayo and all, we were on a hunt for Mexican food and limes. You’d think limes would be easy to find here, but they aren’t. I haven’t seen a lime in a couple of months. I did see one, very brown avocado for $5 though, making me grudgingly content with the avocado spread available in Seoul. Lemons are rare, but accessible — for a price. One lemon usually runs between $1-$2. I typically forgo fresh squeezed and use the concentrate in those specially contrived plastic lemons available in the “Foreign” section of the supermarket.

At any rate, Itaewon was our destination. We ended up eating at Los Amigos (3 stars), and stopping at a bar called Radio Garden which had (pause for dramatic effect) margaritas and mojitoes! Holy limes Batman! It was a Cinco de Mayo miracle.

Aside from the food and citrus, I like the sidestepping alleyways in Itaewon. So far it’s the only place in Korea I’ve really noticed any kind of street art. The subways are pristine and no one seems to have the irrepressible urge to write their names on public property. I was admittedly a little disappointed at first, since I am a graffiti fan. But Itaewon gives me hope that people will continue to utilize artistic prowess to encourage unnecessary, but interesting, defacement of alleyways.

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staying healthy in Korea.

abby_cake — Thu, 03 May 2012 09:40:49 +0000

Living in South Korea is definitely a mixed bag. Life is fast-paced, and often scheduled — but, that is not to say it isn’t enjoyable or spontaneous as well. As a person who benefits from routine, this has not been a necessarily negative outcome for me.

A typical day consists of me getting up around 8AM for a workout and protein shake to follow, breakfast and shower happens around 10, “chill time” until 12:30, when we walk to the bus stop (and wait anywhere from 1 minute to 1 hour for the bus, which apparently operates on no known timetable whatsoever) and head to work. Work “officially” starts sometime between 1:30 and 2, often depending on the bus. On MWF I teach 6 classes, on TuTh I teach 3. There is quite a bit of downtime at work, but it flashes by. Then Jared and I catch the school shuttle home around 9:30.

I enjoy the late working hours, but I found myself overcome by feelings of sloth and lethargy when we first began our new routine. You see, the teaching schedule, affects my eating schedule, which affects my sleeping schedule. It’s a vicious cycle, often resulting in late nights, early(ish) mornings, and too many calories. We come home from work ravenous — since my only break on MWF is around 3:30, I don’t get another chance to eat until we get home. At first dinner was a subject of much distress and usually consisted of whatever we could easily get our hands on (Ramen). Recently, I began to cook a lot, and dinner is usually served by 10:30 or 11. Bedtime is anytime before 1 or 2AM, whenever we get tired of watching Dexter, playing video games, or reading. To combat the aforementioned lethargy I’ve begun making some (I think) positive changes in my routine.

Here are my tips to stay fit in Korea:

Cut out Western fast food. We live in a small town (only one fast food joint) and this has been fairly easy to accomplish. With the exception of a few diet sodas, I haven’t eaten anything “fast” in weeks. Korean fare is typically light and healthy — more kimchi and fish, less McDonald’s and Lotteria.
Walk. Walking everywhere is basically a necessity, because we don’t have a car. I’ve already worn through my favorite pair of boots (currently held together with super glue) and replaced them with a sturdy pair of Converse.
Eat fruits and veggies. Okay, I will admit I haven’t been adamantly eating my veggies for the simple fact that (unless you buy from the local stands) it spoils remarkably fast. I try to grab sweet potatoes and onions from the streetside vendors. Fruit and tofu are being consumed in mass quantities though.
Take a class, join a club, sign up for a run. You get exercise, with the added benefit of socializing (for those of you who like that). I am running a 5k benefiting a cancer charity for children this Sunday in Seoul.
Workout at home. Great for the really cold winter, and the really hot, monsoon-y summer! On days that we were working, there wasn’t a real motivational factor for me to get up early. I could easily roll out of bed at noon and trudge to the bus stop. Then, I started the Insanity program 5 weeks ago and I have been enjoying the amount of energy it gives me for the rest of the day.
Pack your meals. Our first few weeks were rough. We didn’t know where to buy food and survived on the convenience store Ramen selection (which is delicious, but not nutritionally ideal). However, I’ve started packing my lunch and enough healthy snacks (fruit, milk box, almonds, etc.) to get me through the 8 hour day and keep my metabolism going.

So when the frivolity of eating at a Korean restaurant wears off, and you can dispense with the jetlag, many foreigners seem to resort to the Western habit of seeking out fast food, cheap beer, and sedentary weekdays. The general consensus among foreigners seems to be “I am only here for a year” or “I don’t have time” when it comes to exercise. However, I am finding myself with more free time than I had back home, and why not use that time to better myself in the health department? It seems like a simple solution to me.

pork galbi, cooked at the table ($8 a plate)

assorted sides served with the galbi, including pumpkin salad, soup and savory veggie pancakes

crab sushi with roe ($3 at E-mart)

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a word about ex-pats and rain.

abby_cake — Tue, 24 Apr 2012 10:35:46 +0000

Last weekend we went on a trip to Gosu Cave & Chung-ho Lake with a hiking group primarily made up of fellow ex-pats from all over the world.

The weather was deplorable. Somehow the beautiful SoKo spring had taken several steps backward and the day was cold, complete with pelting rain and dollar store panchos. We opted for taking a ferry ride around the lake (which offered warmth and protection from the rain, rather than hauling our asses up a slippery hillside) and got to watch Koreans sing and dance to some (painfully sober) karaoke with beautiful mountains as our backdrop. The scenery was actually breathtaking, and I think the misty rain only contributed an ethereal quality to the mountains. I kept thinking we were going to find ourselves accidentally in Jurassic Park. Gosu Cave was equally as amazing (I touched a stalactite). It was the third cave I have ever been in, and the safety regulations in other countries continue to astound me. We squeezed and crawled through tiny caverns, operating under the assumption we’d be safe, and even though I slipped several times — I definitely felt like we had been on an adventure!

I suppose what has been bothering me a bit lately is the necessity of attaching ourselves to groups in order to participate in activities. Jared and I aren’t the most gregarious people in social situations that haven’t been lubricated by several alcoholic beverages first — then we are really friendly! But mostly we find people our age to be generally narcissistic and intolerable. Our shared dislike of people has caused me to wonder what exactly we like so much about each other on several different occasions — (then I remember, oh yeah, we’re awesome.)

Anyway, upon boarding our bus I heard several girls commenting on what other people were wearing. “Did you see what she had on? She looked like she was going to teach, not hike.” And a comment directed toward me (and my very uninformed decision to wear shorts): “She’s going to be cold.” In line with my ongoing disinterest in confrontation, I let it go and settled back in my seat with Jared for our hour long ride to the hike.

The shitty weather, coupled with the assumption that it’s always “5 o’clock somewhere,” caused several of our fellow ex-pats to begin drinking heavily after the ferry ride, continuing to drink heavily as we approached the local festival, and ending the day with (you guessed it) drinking heavily on the bus.

First of all, and maybe it’s because I am not drinking for the first time, like, ever, but I find all the public intoxication that foreigners partake in here to be more suited to Vegas than a public bus. A group (gaggle?) of girls woke up the hike leader to tell him to stop the bus because they couldn’t wait 15 more minutes to pee at the bus station (due to large intake of beer). I wonder why Koreans think foreigners are inconsiderate? Hmm.

Second, I think a lot of ex-pats are attempting to live out some ill-formed collegiate fantasy — or perhaps prolong the one they just finished. Most of them, by their own admission, were awkward or didn’t party in college, and then they escaped to Korea where partying and hooking up has become their life. (You learn a lot about people when they loudly share information about how much/how little pot they’ve smoked or whether their last hookup was circumcised in front of you on a bus.)

Third, I get it — I’m an American. Also, I am a part of the loathed concept of a “couple.” Introducing myself to ex-pats here basically means I already have two strikes against me. On the way home a girl (Irish nationality, in case you were wondering) was sitting next to us talking about the other teachers at her school who were a “typical American couple” with a “9 o’clock bedtime” and “no desire to go out.”

I could argue that Jared and I are anything but wet blankets. I mean, we are in Korea after all, and crawling through a muddy cave on our day off for a bit of excitement. I leaned over to Jared and whispered, “Are we like, too old or something?” “No, we just aren’t dumb-asses,” was his response. Which made me laugh.

Now, I am not saying ALL ex-pats in Korea are like this. To the contrary, I’ve met some who are quite nice, including the other girl we work with. And I love all the friendly Koreans I’ve met. Unfortunately, I am required to utilize my already rigorous personal evaluation methods with an extra layer of ruthless selectivity in order to avoid the bitter, ignorant, or (most often) annoying people we have encountered on some of our adventures.

The moral of this story: it’s nice to have a travel buddy. And it’s okay to not like everyone.

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my first korean haircut.

abby_cake — Sat, 21 Apr 2012 10:00:57 +0000

Getting your haircut in a foreign country is scary, nerve-wracking, and every adjective in between. I don’t always have good hair experiences when I can speak the language fluently, how was I going to explain a haircut to someone with whom I could not fluently communicate? I decided to play it safe and have my first haircut coincide with our overnight trip to Seoul, rather than attempt to find a small town barber in Gwangju.

I had heard all kinds of horror stories about Korean haircuts. All Korean women have very similar haircuts: bangs, perm, medium brown dye — and very thick hair. Most stylists don’t have a lot of experience with foreigner hair. Basically, I didn’t want to come out looking like a Korean boy, since girls with short hair are also few and far between here. After some subsequent online research, and interrogating the other foreigner I work with, I made the decision to get my hair done at Juno Hair.

I thought it would be easy to locate a salon, since Juno is a chain, and utilized the Seoul Metro Map (which I carry in my purse at all times) to map out the easiest destination to Juno Hair en route to our guesthouse — this was determined to be near Seoul National University. However, upon exiting the subway, and walking in (what I presumed to be) the correct direction … there was not a hair salon in sight. Finally, I went into a convenience store and managed to communicate what I was looking for to the shopkeeper, who in turn pointed us toward a nondescript building across the street.

Great! However, we ascended the staircase to find a completely abandoned (but oddly, unlocked) hair salon — merely remnants and reminders of what was once there. It was completely empty, aside from a few cast off posters and decor items.

I sat down on the steps, utterly frustrated. I called my own navigational and language skills into question several times. Luckily, Jared obtained a WiFi signal from a nearby coffee shop, and we puzzled out the Korean foursquare app to find there was another Juno Hair in Myeong-dong (coincidentally, near our guesthouse). Revived, we re-boarded the subway and set out for haircuts unknown!

After a rocky start, we made it to Myeong-dong and found out Juno Hair was actually just around the corner from the subway stop. Once I saw the black letters printed in sans-serif English, I internally rejoiced!

The receptionist spoke very little English, but understood what I wanted. We settled in for a bit of wait, which I anticipated because I was a walk-in customer on a Saturday afternoon. One of the perks was that there is a small coffee shop inside, from which Jared and I were served complimentary iced green tea (but you could get a latte or soda as well) and snacks while we lounged. Then, just 20 minutes later (not much of a wait), they locked my purse up in a locker, dressed me in a gown, and proceeded to wash my hair and give me an aromatherapy scalp massage. The massage was unexpected and slightly painful, but I’d do it again.

I sat down in the hairstylist’s chair and explained what kind of hair cut I wanted to my, very chic, male stylist. I had brought in some example pictures since I was changing it up a bit (a picture is worth 1000 words, and all that), and he asked me if the picture of Shannon Sossamon was me. “Are you a model?” He seemed so impressed, I felt bad letting him down.

He cut, dried, and styled my hair, while a couple more stylists-in-training hovered around me, dusting stray hairs off my face and tending to my general comfort.

Then came the best part, the price: 25,000 won (roughly $22) — no tip, no tax! Not to mention, I was in and out in under an hour. So haircut, style, scalp massage, free drink & snack, quick service = $22. This was, by far, one of the best hair experiences I have ever had. And I am actually quite in love with the cut itself.

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being korean.

abby_cake — Wed, 18 Apr 2012 14:01:58 +0000

Living in a foreign country has been a dream of mine for a long time. This is also the reason that, when I did get away, I tended toward extended vacations to foreign places rather than several short getaways. Longer periods of time allow you to get in touch with the true essence of a place. After a while, you begin to pick out the cultural idiosyncricies and common customs. A completely different appreciation is afforded to the person who chooses to stay.

Despite this, a lot of people have been encouraging me to get out of Korea, to see “the rest” of Asia. While this is not necessarily a bad idea, it’s one that I have been mulling over at considerable length. Mostly because, sometimes I still have to remind myself that the life I am living is simply my own and no one else’s. I am not a dummy with someone’s hand up my ass, nor am I a catalyst through which others can vicariously live out their dreams by pushing me to make decisions. Coming to Korea was my choice, and what I do while I am here shall not be dictated by people across the globe.

When I was in America, I was constantly dreaming of traveling and living an expat life in a land far, far away. I spent some days sitting at my desk just typing random locales into Google Images to get me through to the end of the workweek. I hung postcards around my desk, and imagined myself into them. But I listened to the common advice of the next step, and was instead swept into a slow-moving stream that attempted to drown me. I was obviously unhappy with my life; but my tendancy toward constant longing for something else and validating other people’s opinions may end up costing me domestic experiences in Korea.

I mean, I came to Korea to become (to a certain degree anyway) Korean — to absorb the culture, the history, the food, the natural (and synthetic) beauty. So before I started stressing myself out about buying plane tickets to Japan or China or Vietnam, I began to consider — why not just enjoy Korea? Why not do what I came here to do, rather than spend my meager breaks at work researching plane tickets to (yet another) destination abroad? Of course I want to travel, but there is time for that yet. No rush. No regulations.

In all honesty, my weekends are fuller than they have been in a long time. This weekend we are cave hiking in Chungmo, the following weekend we are exploring in Jeonju, and May 6th we signed up to run a 5k in Seoul. It would appear that on the other side of the world I have managed to acquire a fairly active social life (which is great, because I also pre-ordered Diablo 3 and that may take a toll on any social interaction).

I know that a year is going to fly by, and I don’t want to look back on my time in Korea and realize that I spent it allowing other people to make me feel negatively, or wishing for something “better” that may never come. I just want to be happy and right here.

Live in the moment and make it beautiful.

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in search of sakura.

abby_cake — Mon, 16 Apr 2012 14:58:21 +0000

I think I first dreamed of seeing cherry blossoms in Asia when I was in junior high. But the dream was only half there, simply a sketch of a desire, not yet fully realized (like so much else at that age). It wasn’t until I read Memoirs of a Geisha, and then subsequently Geisha: A Life, that I began to have true imaginings of allowing a shower of blossoms rain over me like snow.

I came to love their ephemeral beauty, so fleeting — like a butterfly, bursting forth with every ounce of their being to partake in that one beautiful week in spring. I eventually incorporated my deep appreciation of the sakura into the backdrop of my thigh tattoo. I figured it was as close as I was going to get to the real thing.

Until last weekend.

Slightly upon accident we happened upon a lake lined with that very tree which had so captured my adolescent mind’s wanderings.

As we allowed ourselves to be swept into the undulating herd of camera-wielding Koreans, I finally found the opportunity to perceive the cherry blossoms at my leisure. We walked, slowly, underneath a canopy of white — at some points, the blossoms completely obscured the pristine blue sky. Each smooth petal contributed to a cloak of perky blossoms that allowed me to finally experience “walking with the sakura.”

Suffice to say the pageantry and celebratory nature of the week long bloom was just as exciting and lovely as I imagined, although I was not wearing a kimono or clutching a parasol. My eyes grew teary as I stared too long toward the sun.

i walk with the past
through an endless tunnel
more blossoms than sky.

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