Visiting the Motherland, with my Mother

If I didn’t mention it before, the trip to Korea was one that I took with my mother.  The idea was that way back when, my dad and sister went together, so it seemed like a suitable idea that this would be a mother and son trip.  My mom had recently retired, so she had nothing but time on her hands, and from my perspective, this was a trip that had to be done sooner rather than later, because I didn’t want to live my life with the regret of never going to Korea with my mom while she was still physically able to.  Not to mention, my mom had never been back since I’d been alive, so it was literally 38 years since she’d last been in Korea.

This is without question one of the best ideas I’d had in my life, and although I’m not going to sugar-coat and say it was a perfect trip, I don’t have any regrets about going to Korea with my mom one bit.  It was meaningful and memorable, and I’m glad to be able to say that my mom was there the first time I visited the Motherland.

I let my mom drive when it came to planning for the trip, since my initial idea of planning a trip to see the places of her childhood and upbringing seemed to fall on deaf ears, so it ended up with us having a few days in Seoul on our own, but then ultimately going on a multi-city tour group through the rest of Korea, back-ended with two more days in Seoul before coming home.  I’m not going to pretend like I was pleased with the idea of being on a guided tour, since typically I prefer to be in control of my own destiny, but it was what my mother had wanted, and she didn’t seem to understand that I was quite the competent planner on my own.

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Visiting the Motherland, 2016

One of the greatest travesties in my life is that it took me this long to visit Korea.  Frankly, there’s an overarching travesty that it took me about as long to even cross an ocean in the first place, but the point remains as someone of Korean heritage and to some degree, upbringing, it does seem a little not right that I didn’t once visit Korea once until I was 34 and well into my own as an adult.

Admittedly, the idea of visiting Korea didn’t intrigue me that much growing up.  Being born in the United States as pretty much as American as American can be, this was always home to me.  Neither of my parents really talked much about Korea growing up, nor did they ever really put any ideas in my head of wanting to go.  Maybe we were just so dirt-poor when I was growing up that they didn’t want to make any difficult promises to fulfill.

A long time ago, there was an opportunity to go to Korea on some sort of church group; not that my entire family’s been tremendously religious, but it was an economical means to get there.  I’ve always been kind of nihilistic about religion in the first place, so it didn’t really interest me that much, and at that age, my priorities were vastly more interested in indulging in my no-school summer vacation, playing video games and being a slug at home.  Ultimately, my dad and my sister went, and I’ll always remember just how tan they were when they got home, and there’s a photo of the two of them riding a horse that always stuck with me as symbolic of an opportunity that I probably missed out on because of my youthful stupidity.

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Is it a sign??

There is a god after all: The Chicago Cubs rally in the 9th inning to take the series and eliminate the San Francisco Giants from the playoffs in an even-numbered year

I think this might actually be something close to resembling a sign.  The Cubs, the franchise most known for curses, hexes, goats and Steve Bartmans, somehow stand strong to defy and overcome one of the worst curses in the modern baseball era: the Giants’ even-year World Series Win Curse.

Seriously, if there’s anything my six readers might have picked up on by now is that sometimes I’ll deliberately expend the effort and put down words about things that I pretty much chalk up as WILL happen, solely for nothing but the teasing and testing of the fates, in hopes of proving me wrong.  Sure, there’s nothing I like more than being proven right, but for the sake of some things like preventing the Giants from winning yet another World Series, I’ll gladly take one on the chin just to see the city of San Francisco denied.

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The perpetual uphill plight of the brogger

Morning #1 back from Korea; I’ve taken the rest of the week off to help me get over jet lag, and the fact that on top of Europe, on top of Korea, there’s one last weekend trip to Florida for the Disney trip that has happened every single year for the last few, for the Food and Wine Festival. 

I stayed up for nearly 30 hours with hopes of counteracting the going-back-in-time nature of going East to West, and that when I did sleep, it would be a nice snooze-fest culminating with me waking up feeling refreshed and closer to beating the jetlag than succumbing to it.  Instead, I woke up in the middle of the night once, managed to fall back asleep, until the landscapers at mythical gf’s complex decided to roll in at like 7:00 am and get to work, waking me up feeling groggy and a little cranky, although I am relieved to be back in Georgia after such a long trip still.

So, with a little bit of breakfast and my first good cup of coffee in a long while, I’m sitting here trying to figure out what to do next with myself.  Do I try to write about Korea?  Do I edit photos?  Which ones?  Europe, or Korea?  I can’t edit photos on this raptop; I don’t have my old baller work raptop to do that on anymore, so I can only edit on my PC at home.  But I’ve also got nearly 2,000 photos over two trips, and I haven’t touched a single one.  What about the list of thoughts and observations that served as the mental list of things to write about once I got back?  God damn the list is really fucking long.  Do I write about Worlds?  Virginia Tech’s annual delving into the National rankings before they fall out again?  The Cubs taking out the Giants?  The obvious ambiguity of the Miami coroner not revealing Jose Fernandez’s toxicology reports?

Here’s the thing though: not a single one of these things that I feel like I need to do, are things that I’m required to do.  Nobody reads my brog; it’s down, still, and I’m beyond my wits end with that fact.  I can’t even read my own brog.  So why do I feel like I should spend so much of my time brogging?  I mean, that’s what I do, I write in my spare time because that’s what I’ve always done, and although I might not appreciate it at the current, I know I’d appreciate it all later, because I’ve been chronicling my life and thoughts for the better part of the last 17 years or so.

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Let’s just get this shit over with

The San Francisco Giants have made it into the playoffs in spite of a shoddy second-half record on account of a shaky bullpen.  The NL West champion Los Angeles Dodgers simply couldn’t step on their throats hard enough to keep them out of the playoffs, and they’ll have nobody to blame but themselves when they sitting at home while the Giants take out whichever team is unfortunate enough to make it out with the American League pennant.

That’s right, it is a foregone conclusion.  The MLB Playoffs don’t even have to be played really.  It’s just a formality at this point. 

Being an even year, and the Giants have gotten into the playoffs, it’s a lock, a guarantee, that the Giants are going to win the World Series.

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Getting penalized for being competent

Well that’s bullshit: program funded by $110 million federal dollars will provide up to $50,000 of relief to homeowners stuck in underwater mortgages; under specific conditions, none of which demonstrate the ability to be financially responsible much less competent at all

There’s no sugar-coating it, my home’s been underwater for the better part of, since I’ve lived in it.  The house was purchased in 2004, the value of the home rose a little bit for each of the first three years, and then the housing bubble popped, and the values of homes sunk faster than Yahoo stock.  My life was in a way different place back in the day, but I remember getting the first letter that stated that my home no longer had any equity that could be borrowed from, and as far as I know, that hasn’t recovered, even to this very day.

Needless to say, I’ve become very attuned to the concept of underwater mortgages throughout the years, and I should feel fortunate that my household has been in the minority of most underwater homeowners, and that we’ve always been able to pay the bills every month, and have been able to maintain good standing with all home expenditures throughout the years.  We’re actually getting to the point where the mortgage is practically whittled down to where we might be able to even hit a break-even point, with the underwater estimates.

At this point, a push is a win, and Jen and I can brush ourselves off from this failed gamble and figure out the next steps in our lives.

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I’m with the angry Italian

Fat story made thin: Italian man angry with Emirates airlines because they’re not doing anything to dissuade his dissatisfaction with having to have sat next to a morbidly obese man on a nine-hour flight

I’m aware that this story is one that of an insufferable, apparently entitled individual, trying to cash in on a no-win situation from Emirates, but I’m also not a perfect person either.  I’m on the side of the angry Italian.

I fly a lot, as my six readers very well know.  I’ve enjoyed the luxury of the occasional surprise upgrade when I played the standby game, but way more often than naught, I’ve suffered the indignity of having to sit next to undesirable people.  And I wish it were the people with babies, or the blabber mouths, or the people that often come to mind when people think of undesirable seat neighbors.  No, I’m talking about the people who don’t know what a shower is, or had been living at the airport for days, or sometimes both.  People who try to dominate the armrests or any and as much space as they can, because they’re just that selfish or greedy.  

And then there’s the fat people.

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