Off to the next adventure

May 29th, 2012

So some of you may now know that I am currently jetsetting off to South Korea. After the strangest 6 months of my life culminated into the most bizarre May on the record, I have accepted a position as a public school ESL teacher in Miryang, or "secret sunshine."

Similar to my position in Turkey, I will be spending my days living ethnically ambiguous in a country with a homogenous facebook-obsessed population and a tumultuos past history.

Also, I may not have completely thought this one through.

The good news is that I have not (yet) been kidnapped and sold into the sex slave industry, surviving on the only hope that Liam Neison will come save me...

I arrived in Busan and was met by my petite British recruiter Alistair, who is fabulously English. He took me to my hotel where I was to meet him the following day at 9am sharp. I fell asleep after a 26 hour journey to the Korean home shopping network.

In the morning, Alistair, myself, and 2 other teachers rallied together to go to the education office where we were to meet our Korean co-teachers, or rather, my new built in best friend. His name is "Danny", he barely speaks english, and he wears a vest. Needless to say, the odds were in my favor in this one.

Danny took my paperwork and instructed me that we will be going to get my health check. We rolled out of the education office bumpin to flo-ridas "low" and discussed our mutual liking of drinking, dancing and shopping. The health check was....interesting, as I had to pee in a Dixie cup and then get weight, height, eyes, ears, etc checked in front of an audience of people who were also waiting for their check. To clear things up, I didn't pee in the dixie cup in front of everyone....

My historically small veins were massacred during my "blood correction" which involved 5 minutes of being multiply stabbed by a syringe (wait until you see my Bruise!).

After assuring the doctor I had no diseases, Danny and I left on route to Busan where I would get my alien registration card. We talked in the car of many things: hometowns, music, dating life, sports. I even explained to him the meaning of "piece of me" by Brittany Spears.

Finally it was time to bring me to my new home, which is situated in Miryang, a small city completely surrounded by mountains and cut in half by a large river. We stopped at the side of the road to pick up a seemingly random Korean girl, who i then found out was "Lizzy", another English teacher at one of the 3 schools I will be teaching at. They were both very kind, helping me move in and promising we would all party soon, but I had to get some sleep first.
I woke up at 3:30 am Korean time and unpacked all of my stuff in my new bachelorette pad. After getting ready, I began what I like to call "the Korean hunger games."

In many of the larger cities, English signage is quite prevalent. In Miryang,the only sign I have found thus far is for a restaurant called "chicken for my family" and because my family is halfway around the world, I decided to skip this one.

Many of the restaurants seemed closed and/or guaranteed to give me food poisoning. I wandered my way into an open door with clean tables and immediately realized that I had absolutely no command over even the basic of Korean phrases. So instead, I smiled, motioned that I wanted food, sat down and hoped for the best.

The nice korean man prepared some sort of cold noodle dish, even showing me how to eat it, and laughed at the stupid American as she fumbled with the chopsticks until he brought me a fork. I "kamsahamnida"ed him as I continued on my journey of city exploration.

Solid first 48 hours.

I am the 99%

OK so I know it has been ages since I have posted, and there is a perfectly good reason for that! You see, I had to grow up, I had to find a job, and I had to do other super time consuming things that took priority over writing blog posts that next to no one reads....

But I have felt compelled to begin writing again, why you may ask? Because I am part of the 99%.

I am sure many of you are familiar with the "Occupy Wall Street/ Boston" movement. When it first began, I know myself, like many others, walked past groups of protesters on our way to our daily 9 to 5 grind, thinking "Oh wow, it seems as though hempfest has come early this year..."

But here is the thing, I cannot participate in the Occupy movement. I cannot sit and hold signs. I cannot give up my day's wage to try and get my voice heard. I have to get on a train in to the city at 7 AM to work until I can get home at 7 PM and there is nothing I can do about it. But I want to be heard too.

This past summer I started a new job. This was after being semi- unemployed for 3 months, and before that, being under-employed at a failing organization that I needed to leave to preserve my sanity. So I started my new job, and while it was not ideal, and did not pay nearly enough for the amount of work I was doing, I didn't complain, because I saw so many of my peers either waiting tables to pay off their college loans, or not even lucky enough to have a job at all.

Well, last week, I was told I am essentially getting laid off.

So here I stand again, on the brink of unemployment, a year out of college, and part of the 99% that is getting royally screwed over by everyone else.

A year ago, I had just came back from working abroad for 8 months, preceded by an immersion course in Armenia, a stint on Capitol Hill, and a string of other positions that have consistently kept me employed since I was 15. I am a cum laude a top 100 ranked university (#69- giggle), adept at language acquisition (both French and some Turkish), and hell, I can argue the turkish-armenian negotiation, the arab-israeli conflict, and the irrelevance of "Keeping up with the Kardashians" with the best of them. When I came home from Turkey, I applied to every restaurants and retail shop in the area, just to get some interim work. Not one of them even called me back. Not one.

Meanwhile, I pay over $600 dollars a month for student loans, loans with interest rates that should be considered criminal. Interest rates that will keep me in debt for an additional 10 years or more longer than I should have to be in debt. Rates that I, a 23 year old-about to be unemployed- recent college grad have to pay to big businesses who bought my loans and now control my ability to get any credit financing, future loans or general well being.

I got great grades in high school, I got into a great college, I did everything I was supposed to do, and now myself and so many others are under employed, un-employed, or living paycheck to paycheck with our daily motivation exponentially decreasing. It sucks, I am pissed, and there is NOTHING I can do about it.

Capitalism and democracy has backfired on us. The mistakes of the preceding generation's big business have caused mile high unemployment rates, a depressing recession, and a daily fear that today will be your last day at work. So now, people like me across the country, have had to go to our last resort. We have to literally stand outside buildings hoping to be seen.

There are easy criticisms to make about this movement. Call them radical bleeding heart liberals. Call them lazy unemployed losers. Sure, there are some of them tucked in the corners of the sidewalks, but if you can't step back and see the current inequality in today's society between the corporations and individuals, the growing gap between the classes, than you are probably a 1 percenter.Talk to protesters and they all have a different story, they all focus on a different issue, and they all feel slighted by what's been going on in this country. Don't get me wrong, I love living in the US. I wouldn't trade my passport for anything. I have been in countries where people wouldn't even dream of demonstrating like this, or be able to achieve success without bribing the right officials. There is beauty in America. It just looks like a skanky whore right now.

Tuesday I have to go to work. Who knows, maybe it will be my last week there. Maybe they will have a change of heart, find additional funding, and decide they won't lay me off after all. This isn't about jumping on some hippie bandwagon protest, this is about all of us getting what we worked so hard for...justice and equality. And if you disagree with me, thats fine, because we live in a country of rights, freedoms, and hell... I probably don't like you anyways.

The Holiday Spirit....aka- school vacation

Alot of my friends, and myself, have been feeling a bit disconnected to the holidays this year. I don't have the typical jingle in my step, the obsession with all things christmas. Hell, I haven't even really been listening to christmas music all that much (albeit for the continuous playing of that damn mariah carey song which I can't seem to escape).

So this morning, as I took the train into work, I wondered why I didn't feel as connected to the jollyness of the season. Yes, I have had a stressful past few months transitioning home and dealing with unexpected life issues, but I don't think thats what it is....

I don't get christmas vacation anymore.

Now that I am a real person with a job, I don't get the typical 2 weeks off that I have grown so used to in my life. Since elementary school, we have grown up knowing that this time of year provided at least a week and a half of carefree time to spend with your family and friends. This is when we usually all gather in one spot and drink copious amounts of rum-infused eggnog. This is the time that we enjoy every moment of the day...because we usually sleep until 3 in the afternoon each day and need to make up for lost time.

But no, this year, I am a real person, and christmas falls on a saturday. I have to work all week, and celebrate this year as a weekend holiday.

Granted, I shouldn't complain. I mean Santa works 364 days a year just for this one moment of glory...

Happy Holidays all!

-G

The Liberal Clause

http://blogtown.portlandmercury.com/BlogtownPDX/archives/2010/11/03/read-the-tea-party-childrens-book-about-how-obama-stole-christmas-no-really



literally....I am speechless

Sorry Deer!

So this weekend...major traumatic events ensued.

I went to go meet up with some of my lovely Armenian chicks (note the fact that one girl is actually Indian) at Karoun, a lovely middle-eastern restaurant in Newton. We laughed, we reminisced, we danced....it was a wonderful night, one of those nights that you didn't think anything would go wrong...

So then I left Karoun, on my way to go meet up with one of my dearest friends, Steph, who was back for the weekend from New York City. Excited to hear all about her adventures, the hometown crew decided we would all meet at Bar Louie to catch up...and by catch up we really mean binge drink.

I was driving back from Newton down 95 south, thinking of which cocktail I would have first...when I saw it.

A big Man-Deer....which I later found out is called a Buck....was climbing over the guardrail. Now, I was driving down 95 south, probably going at least 70 miles an hour, and I knew things were not going to end well for one of us.

I saw Bambi climb the rail, and then boom...he charged. He was running right towards me! Now I have had close calls with deer before, mostly on back roads, but I have always been able to stop in time, but not this time.

I was in the fast lane, and there were other cars behind me so I couldn't swerve. And I couldn't tell whether it would be better to brake harder or gun-it faster to avoid the thing and BOOM.......I killed Bambi.

I pulled over to the side of the highway, where a man in a Tow-truck stopped to make sure I was OK. I saw the deer back on the highway, kicking it's final kick, and that was when I broke down.

I have always been an animal lover, and while animals have not always loved me back, I always get sad when one dies....especially because of my doing. This, all on the heels of my darling hamster Muffin untimely passing last week, has obviously thrown me into a severe depression.

While my brothers were concerned with whether or not I brought the deer back home in my truck, I was concerned whether or not the deers family would be waiting for him to come back home (My dad later told me that it's mating season and the Dad deer don't take care of the Baby Deer, thank god).

It was after all this, and a barrage of questions from my concerned relatives, that I realized I was also happy that I wasn't killed. Mostly because, I plan on ending my life in a blaze of glory, fighting the good fight, standing up for the injustices in the world! ...not to be squished by a horny deer.

That's all folks!

Annie G.

How “Hoarders” Has Changed My Life

I will admit it, I have always been known to be a messy person. Let me rephrase, I am a cluttery bargain hunter. I used to only buy things on sale, and did not have the space to house all of my bargains. It was never like I couldn’t manuever in my room, but I just always had clothes on my floor or a project half finished on my bed. I was often traveling, so I would blame my clutter on constant shift.

And then, something changed.

I began to watch a lot of A&E tv. It all started with “Intervention” an emotionally draining mini-documentary on the lives of addicts. It was easy to see these people and their struggle, and think “God, I will never huff 17 bottles of computer duster a day.” Quick decision, life fixed.

Then, there was a new program on, called “hoarders.” For those of you not in the know, hoarding is a form of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder that is categorized by the need to compulsively collect and save items, with the inability to throw things away. The people classified as hoarders are these twisted self-proclaimed “collectors.” Often times their houses are filled to the brim with stuff such as household appliances, books, boxes, trash, food and often, cats. Many people recognize the problem, but are unsure how to go about fixing it. Others are in complete denial.

There is a general outline for a hoarder. A person, male or female, living in a rural area, probably on the lower end of the socioeconomic scale, who suffered some traumatic event that triggered the onset of major hoarding, and usually owns at least 10 cats. The show brings in pschologists and professional organizers to help the hoarder to well….de-hoard, often finding some of the most disgusting, flattened cats under the debris.

So how did this change my life? Well, now that I have been watching hoarders I have been insanely afraid that at any moment I could suffer from a traumatic depression, or loss, and BOOM- I am a hoarder. What if, in 10 years, I had 20 snakes that crawled around and pooped in the house (I am not much of a cat person) and couldn’t even sleep in my own bed? I have no desire to not be able to walk to my bathroom or cook in my kitchen.

So, I have purged my room, thrown away half of my belongings, and now I only focus on purchasing wise “investments” for the future (ok ok, I bought a flat screen tv….hey its like a graduation gift… to myself).

So, while I have a ways to go before I am a neat freak….for those of you like me, who have had clutter issues in the past…watch “Hoarders,” put your cats up for adoption, and start tossing stuff away!

Love peace and elbow grease

Annie G

Jackass 3D…and the side effects of depression

So last weekend I went to see Jackass 3D (it was Gil’s birthday and I let him pick the movie).

We paid our tickets, received our stylish 3D ray bans, and proceeded down the stairs of the Showcase cinemas in Randolph to catch the 3rd installment of the notoriously hilarious shenanigans of the Jackass crew.

And then, about an hour and a half later, I was nauseous.

Not only was I sick because of the excess amounts of vomit, fecal matter and male genitalia that was on display in this cinematic adventure, but also, I was disturbed on a deeper level.

Now, jackass hit its prime when I was just entering high school. In those days, my friends and I would watch that show, and laugh for hours, then ignore any disclaimer and attempt some wacky stunts ourselves. I remember having a giant crush on johnny Knoxville, thinking Bam Margera could be my best guy friend, and desperately wanting to have lighthearted friends just like the Jackass crew.

And now, I am 22, on a quest to become a real person, and looking at Jackass with a whole new perspective.

Now, don’t get me wrong, the movie was quite hilarious, I found myself laughing between dry heaves, but then I thought that these men must be approaching their forties, and they are still reveling in their slapstick ways.

I know I know, they get paid millions of dollars for this crap, I understand. But unfortunately, these guys represent a portion of the population who never quite grow up. And to be honest, it’s a sad thing to face.

When it comes down to it, I still do want to be like these guys (minus the sweat chugging, public defecation and porta-potty obsessions). I want to still have carefree times, where I get together with my friends and do stupid stuff. I don’t want to have to worry about loans, dreams an goals. I want to be able to go to a job where all I do is make people laugh.

I guess watching Jackass didn’t have the kick that it used to….maybe I should buy a video camera.

I’m Annie G. , and this is my blog post!