The occasional heartache of moving

I have vague memories of when I was eight years old, moving from my birth home in (then-) rural Virginia to the bustle and civilization of Northern Virginia.  One of the things that stuck with me was that when my family pulled away from the house for the last time in our old Toyota Celica, was seeing a neighborhood girl that was my age standing in her front yard, and she waved at us.  I remember her name was Evan.  I remember being at an age where moving wasn’t that big of a deal, although my sister was pretty miffed at moving from an area where elementary school was K-5 to a place that was K-6, meaning she had to put up with one more year of elementary school and sharing the bus with a little brother.

When my family moved again when I was in the fifth grade, it didn’t seem like that big of a deal then either.  Sure, it kind of stunk knowing I’d have to start over again at another new school, but my family was doing well financially at that time, and we were moving into a huge baller home, and there was something exciting about switching schools mid-year.  It also helped that my new school was slightly behind in curriculum than my former one, so I literally coasted for a while before actually getting back to learning.

It was during my sophomore year of high school that my family moved again.  This one I remember being a little harder to cope with, mostly on account of the fact that I was a moody, broody 15-year old then, and the fact that the circumstances behind the move weren’t necessarily positive or free will; the restaurant business was going downhill, the family’s finances were following, and it was more like being forced to downsize and move to a smaller home, rather than it being a bright and promising change.  I didn’t particularly care for moving back then, but growing up has made me understand and accept why it was necessary.

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Discontent

I am not happy.  I have not been happy in quite some time, to be perfectly honest.  It has little to do with the year, or things that are happening around the world, because I feel that the state of my country is going down the shitter in my humble opinion, or that the Atlanta Falcons choked the biggest choke there possibly could be in the Superb Owl.  Although, alternate outcomes of either of the last two might have made some days brighter than they’ve been, they are not the reasons to why I am not happy.

It’s the world immediately around me that’s making me feel brought down lately.  I thought I’d feel a little bit of reprieve when some particular events came and went, and would be in the rearview mirror, but I can’t honestly say that things do.  I’m relieved of the unburdening of some of the responsibilities, but the fallout and aftermaths of them linger, and they are still far from resolved, and no matter how much I can tell myself that I shouldn’t care, I still do, because that’s what I do, I care, I give shits, even when I don’t want to.

In a nutshell, my parents’ divorce is going poorly, my family is basically in shambles and I’m in the process of moving all my shit out of the house I’ve lived in for the last 14 years and dealing with a lot of anxiousness pertaining to changes in life.  I do not feel like I have an adequate support system behind me leading me to feel like I don’t have people to really speak to without conflicting interests, and it doesn’t matter where I go, because I don’t really feel like anywhere is necessarily home for me right now.

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I really don’t feel like writing

Therefore, I am making myself write, because it’s the times that you don’t want to do something are the times in which you have to do them, otherwise a downward spiral of failure becomes eminent.  Don’t feel like exercising?  Prepare to have to budget for some larger clothes, fatass.  Don’t feel like cooking?  Prepare to have to budget for some larger clothes, lazy. Don’t feel like working?  Prepare to have to update your resume when you get shitcanned; and budget for larger clothes when you inevitably start to eat out of depression.

I don’t want to have to budget for larger clothing because I don’t feel like writing, and it will depress me, and then I’ll resort to food.  Everything resorts to food, seemingly.  Food is wonderful, and I’m fascinated just how often people turn heel on food on shows like My 600 lb. Life on TLC, blaming a wonderful thing for why they’re so fat and useless.  It’s worse than people turning heel on Ronda Rousey, because she lost her return fight, and now suddenly she’s an overrated has been that everyone has hated for a long time because of some controversial statements she made about homosexuality that have nothing to do with her body of work as a mixed martial artist.

The thing is, a lot of people wanted to believe that when the arbitrary change from 2016 to 2017 occurred, things would miraculously start getting better, more optimistic.  Sure, I don’t buy into it, but I didn’t want to be one of those assholes who bemoaned the entire practice and shit on peoples’ mechanisms to remain optimistic and have hope, but it turns out that as far as my own little world is concerned, things don’t really seem to be getting much better.  Those around me are still going through some rough patches, testing their morale, resolve and their strength, and my family is still in disarray and no matter how much talking and mediating I try to do, still looks to be on a path to a worst possible situation.

Honestly, because I’m apparently so empathetic towards the woes of those around me, it’s difficult to go on with my relatively simple life knowing others are grieving and dealing with bad things in their lives, and despite the fact that I just said my life is relatively simple, the problems that I do have myself aren’t necessarily small ones.  That being said, there are times in which I feel like I’m being stretched pretty hard in numerous directions, and it’s when I feel the most powerless at being able to cope and help and deal, that I feel the brunt of emotional distress bordering at the potential for some depression.

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The obligatory 2016 year in review post

Frankly, I don’t much feel like writing lately.  I’ve been leaning on the crutch of trying to find an intriguing story to me with hopes of sparking some motivation to write, and opting to not force the issue and not writing anything if nothing emerges.  Otherwise, I haven’t felt particularly driven to write, and it’s safe to assume that when I’m not busy, have plans or something to do, I’ve kind of been in this depressed state of being, where my life simply kind of feels like it’s on hold and I’m not particularly happy with my life.

But as far as I can observe, that seems to be a general sentiment felt by many, as 2016 comes to a merciful close – not particularly happy.  Make no mistake, whether you believe a narrative can be conveniently encapsulated within a calendar year, or if it’s coincidental to be insulated within twelve particular months, 2016 was a pretty rough year.  Maybe it was because of the litany of celebrity deaths, from Prince, David Bowie to the seemingly endless coverage of Carrie Fisher.  Maybe it’s because of the election of a president that is a known bigot, sexist and racist and the dread of knowing that he will be in charge of the country for at least the next four years.  Maybe it’s the ever-growing dredge and pessimism and ‘if it bleeds it leads’ mentality of the media and the social shitstorm it brews over social media, leading to this endless cycle of negatively connoted news we’re incessantly exposed to.  Maybe it’s because in our own personal lives, we’ve dealt with loss, bad news, or diminished feelings of hope for the future at the home front.

Or maybe it’s a little bit of all of the above, or any combination of such.  Who really knows, but it goes without saying that for most of the people in my own little world, the negative outweighed the good by a tremendous margin, and that notion in itself is why I’m one of the many that is looking forward to 2016 ending, and hoping that 2017 might just be a little bit better.

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Photos: Korea Trip 2016, batch 4

[2020 note] These are unposted photos from 2016, the fourth of four galleries of my first-ever trip to the Motherland, that I took with my mother.

The tour group concluded with a trip to Seoraksan (Mount Seorak) before it was back to Seoul, where my mom and I settled into another AirBnB for the last few days of our trip.

Admittedly, as much as I loved my time in Seoul, I really was feeling like I had begun to see a lot of the city and having done countless hours wandering and seeing shopping center after shopping center, I was ready to go home.

Hilariously, my mom reached out to some other old friends in the area, and extended her own stay for another two weeks, but I was most definitely ready to head back to the states.  It was an unforgettable first-time in Korea, and I have nothing but great memories and appreciation for seeing my culture in its native land.

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Photos: Korea Trip 2016, batch 3

[2020 note] These are unposted photos from 2016, the third of four galleries of my first-ever trip to the Motherland, that I took with my mother.

After a few more days on Jeju Island, the tour brought us back to the mainland where I thought we would just go back to Seoul, but instead we landed in Busan, where we would begin a road trip up the Korean peninsula visiting various towns and cities on the way.

After capitalizing in Busan, finding the League of Legends pop-up store, I caught up with the rest of the tour group and from there it was Geongju, Pohang and Pyeongchang, seeing all sorts of sights from seas of country, to even a brief stop inside a cavern.

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Photos: Korea Trip 2016, batch 2

[2020 note] These are unposted photos from 2016, the second of four galleries of my first-ever trip to the Motherland, that I took with my mother.

After several days in Seoul, my mother and I embarked within the country on a tour that she had arranged, where we would take a whirlwind throughout the rest of the country, starting with the “Hawaii of Korea,” Jeju Island… where we were promptly greeted with a seasonal typhoon that blew through the entire island and into the rest of the Motherland.

But afterward, the weather was nothing short of beautiful, and the rest of our time on Jeju was filled with gorgeous sights and naturally, more night shopping.

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