I wish I could have Seoul searched in Seoul

Until it streams online, it’s new to me.  I just recently watched on Netflix, the film Seoul Searching, apparently released back in 2015.  Long story short, it’s basically Breakfast Club for Koreans, and there’s no mistaking the immense John Hughes influences throughout the entire film.

Instead of in-school Saturday suspension, the story takes place in 1986, where a bunch of Korean teenagers who grew up outside of Korea are brought to Seoul to participate in a government-sponsored summer camp where foreign-born Koreans have the opportunity to learn about the cultures of their parents’ native land.  The tropes are broad and prevalent, but there’s still a diverse cast of characters from the misfits, the jarhead, the adoptee, the tomboy, and the most mind-blowing to me, the Koreans from countries such as Mexico and Germany.

Now I know that quite a few of them exist in the world, but it really isn’t until you hear the accents and behaviors does it really sink in that Koreans did in fact immigrate to countries other than America, seeing Koreans ripping perfect German or Spanish with names like Sergio and Klaus.

Ultimately, it’s a film that obviously hits home pretty hard for me, given my circumstances as an American-born Korean.  I feel like if when I was a teenager, I probably would have rolled my eyes and loathed the opportunity to go to Korea to learn about my heritage, much like most of the characters of this film were like.  But as an adult, it’s all too easy for me to say that I wished that such a government-sanctioned and probably extremely affordable opportunity to go visit Korea still existed, for adults, like me, and that I wouldn’t hesitate for a moment to be all over it. 

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I’m in a bad place right now

I’m not going to sugar coat the fact that over the span of my last posts, things haven’t exactly been going swimmingly for me in my life.  As much as people of the internet bemoaned and stated how much of a dumpster fire that the year 2016 was, I’d have to say that 2017 hasn’t exactly been a drastic improvement over the year removed.  If anything at all, I would say that I’ve been more stressed, more emotionally drained and more taxed this year than I was last.

So to update from the last time I sat down and wrote for a site that’s still down and out of commission, Jen and I finished moving out of the house.  The house is not only empty and completely vacated, it’s up on the market, and doing surprisingly well in terms of buyer interest and awareness that it’s on the market.  Obviously, interest does not equal it actually selling, so only time will tell just what happens with all these people and realtors marching in and out of my house on parade because I can see it happening because I still have security cameras that let me see timestamps of when people come and go.

Getting the house prepared for listing was a tremendously taxing task both physically and emotionally.  Every single day for just under two weeks, weekday and weekend, was spent painting walls, patching up gaps or holes in walls, painting walls, cleaning out belongings, painting walls, cleaning floors and painting walls. 

Painting walls is pretty much the worst activity ever.

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It’s funnier when it’s not applicable

I make a lot of references to the Jessie Spano caffeine pill freakout from Saved by the Bell.  A lot of people make references to the Jessie Spano caffeine pill freakout from Saved by the Bell. It’s a great pop-cultural reference for when one is super excited about something, almost almost to the point of it being scary, or maybe it actually is scary.  Or maybe the part where she breaks down and talks about being scared is omitted, and it’s just a reference to the part where she sings I’m So Excited, all drugged out and addled that we all laugh at.

But how many people remember the context of the rest of the episode?  Why Jessie Spano was on “caffeine” pills in the first place?  I doubt nearly as many as the people who make references to the signing part actually do.

Jessie was taking speed because she felt that there weren’t enough hours in the day to study and cram for her lofty academic aspirations, and used the extra time not sleeping to hit the books.  Sure, it created a mild addiction and an eventual crash that led to the iconic exciting moment, but the context of it revolved around the perceived feeling that there is not enough time.

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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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Still shunning social

It’s been nearly two full months since I stopped checking Facebook.  It’s also been about that long that my brog’s been down, keeping me anxious and feeling voiceless when it comes to routine and a simple enjoyment, but that’s a different story.

I’ve learned that Facebook notifications caps at 99, based on the periodic emails I get letting me know that I’ve got 99 notifications since the last time I’ve been on Facebook, and the number is no longer climbing.

In that time, I’ve more or less lost touch with people, as I don’t know what exciting or mundane things that are going on in the lives of the 140+ internet personas that Facebook deems as friends.  Birthdays have come and gone, and the odd random “so-and-so has posted” emails keep me in the loop that people are in fact gabbing away.

There are a few group conversations going on that I’m aware are happening because Facebook notifies me that they’re happening over email, but out of not wanting to break my chain, not because I’m (entirely) antisocial, I’m blind to them.  I haven’t seen any photos or any posts that have me tagged, because I’m a hipster and obtuse.

The thing is, I’ve been mulling over in my head when it is that I want to come back.  I’m enjoying the freedom of ambivalence, and the time I’m not wasting both literally and the time spent thinking about the things people post, because I’m not checking Facebook repeatedly.  I’ve read lots of books, watched some television and movies, did a lot of writing for a brog that I have no idea when will ever be back up and been on two trips so far.  I’m not saying that none of those things would’ve have happened if I’d still been engaged on Facebook, but I did have the luxury of being fairly clear-minded and undistracted by potential distractions.

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Negativity

I hate my life right now, and I don’t know what to do about it.

I feel so utterly alone these days, and I don’t even know where to go where to find people I trust to discuss my problems. Family is out of the question because I cannot discuss anything with them without the underlying judgment for my life’s decisions. I don’t want to burden others with my mental weight, or I don’t frankly feel comfortable enough attempting to unload my problems with just any people.

Any attempts I make at trying to do something good, something fun, or anything that might bring me back to a happier place are constantly derailed. Be it the weather, conflicting schedules, things I perceive as inconsideration or selfishness of others, or just apathy on account of being depressed, I just am having a real difficult time in shaking this funk.

The worst part is that I’m fully aware that the trapped feeling I feel is imposed upon me by nobody but myself, and there’s the chance that I’m being too cautious about being too careful with those around me. I feel like I’m always in a state of walking on egg shells, and that everyone is tippy toeing around egg shells around me themselves.

I want to scream and yell out all my problems and hope that someone hears me and can be a stereotypical pillar of a personal support structure, but at the same time I don’t want to clarify issues and drop names, because I don’t necessarily think that solves anything either. So I remain quiet and stewing, which I know isn’t healthy either, but it seems like the safest bet until a better solution arises.

Underlying all these issues is the inherent fear that I’m turning into my dad; a miserable, solitary island of a man who may have felt all these things at some point in his life, but like me might constantly feel that bottling it up is better.

Life is not good right now. I am unhappy and I don’t know what do to about it.

I love goodbyes

Now despite the fact that I like a good weekend every now and then where I literally do nothing but stay at home and play League, watch college football, sleep in until the dog starts barking his need to go pee and living off of whatever’s left over in the refrigerator and pantry, there’s no doubt that it can sometimes be pretty lonely doing such. Not necessarily in the “oh noes, Danny is making another ‘I wish I had a girlfriend’ post” kind of way, but really just being around other people in a fun social engagement in general kind of way, because when the day is over, I’d rather be in good company, chilling out in a relaxed setting.

Such does not occur as often as I’d admittedly like it to occur, but most of that falls on me. I live out in the sticks that are often as surprised as I am to be considered part of the Metro Atlanta area, and it’s a pain to get to anywhere without having to think about niggling details like traffic, time, and fuel consumption in the back of your head sometimes. Also, it’s not that I’m a raging alcoholic by any means necessary, but I do like to drink in social settings, and I’m always paranoid that there’ll be another sobriety checkpoint near my house again, but it’ll fall on a date where I’ve had one or two beers and no designated driver; my dad got a DUI a few years ago, and he’s living proof that no number of decades of safe, immaculate driving record is impervious to the damages a DUI can do, which scares the shit out of me sometimes.

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