Christmas cheer tip

The Jews party it up on Christmas Eve before waking up Christmas Day for some bagels for brunch, a movie afterwards, and Chinese food for dinner. It's kind of a good time. Follow through...

Twas the night before Christmas

And all I wanna do is get dolled up and hit the town. It feels eerily empty without family around, and that makes me seek some sort of antidote to loneliness slash substitute for love in crowded bars with confused (but perhaps perfectly content to be so) others seeking the same. Follow through...

Why you should pay someone else to touch your koo

Because your pubic hair isn't going to go away on its own. In order to maintain a groomed nether region, women resort to various methods of hair removal, none of which are more painful than the Brazilian bikini wax, which was, little known fact, handcrafted by the devil. Alas, this cruel but effective form of hair removal is a necessary evil. When I lived in LA, there was this great little beauty salon called Beba that only charged $35 per bikini wax. Think about it from the waxers point of view: there is no guarantee that every veej is going to be pleasant to look at, and certainly not something everyone is going to want to put their hands all over, but it's their job, and they are brave souls. Sure, the process only lasts 15 minutes, the pain is excruciating, and the fact is that some stranger is touching your koo, but that is a small price to pay for walking out of that room feeling like the sexiest bitch in town.

After moving back to the East Coast, jobless and destitute, I tried the whole au natural thing for a while but felt gross about it. Tried shaving, but didn't like the sharp stubble that kept growing in. I needed a wax, but the salons in the area charge $50 a pop and I can't afford that every three weeks! So instead I found a microwaveable Brazilian bikini wax kit online (GiGi at Amazon.com) and decided to take my chances.

I won't go into the awkward details of where I had to place my legs or the poses in which I had to hold my balance in order to reach some of the places that had hair in need of removal. Let's just say my yoga instructor would be proud. And that my mother would not.

It's not that it's impossible to perform a bikini wax on yourself. It would just be easier with two for a couple of reasons. (1) Two people requires less contortion. You have to put your legs in strange acrobatic positions even when you go to a salon, but it usually isn't any more complicated than lifting one or both legs and propping them up on the waxer's shoulder or the wall. That's for amateurs. When going it alone, you must be very flexible and have very good balance. (2) After the first rip of the wax, as the now-empty follicles from which you have mercilessly torn your pubic hair SCREAM in agony, you remember how much it hurts to gets waxed and each successive pull becomes more and more difficult to accomplish mentally. It's hard to keep going because it's your own body, and there is something wrong about being the hand that causes pain unto yourself. Unless you're into that kind of thing, I guess, which I'm not. So even if the pain is the same with one person or two, it's just better when you don't have to inflict it on yourself.

The home wax kit costs $12 plus shipping, and you get three waxes out of it. So you're talking 20 bucks versus 150 at a salon. I've floated the idea to my two best friends, and they said they'd be willing to help me out with my wax, but as much as I love them, I am not entirely comfortable with having them look full-on at my veej. An accidental glimpse while changing is ok. But an extended experience? That could be a little too close for comfort.

Sometimes you just gotta suck it up. Follow through...

Silent audience

I love this piece, from which I stole the title for this post, by Pete Revonkorpi. It might have a little something to do with the fact that I played the violin for twelve years, from the tender age of six until I turned eighteen and was finally allowed to quite taking private lessons. I loved to perform, but I hated practicing. I loved the attention, but I lacked the discipline necessary to perform well enough to deserve any. The only reason my parents refused to let me quit sooner was because my teachers convinced them that I possessed some degree of natural talent; because I could play fairly well by ear, imitating my teachers came more easily to me than some other students, infusing them with false hope for the next mini-virtuoso. Apparently, they thought I could be great, but I found that talking on the phone with my non-musical adolescent friends was a more desirable use of an hour than one spent alone in front of my sheet music.

Man, am I ever sorry I didn't listen to my parents. Sometimes I'll hear a song I once played and freeze in my tracks, spellbound, to listen. And when a certain mood strikes, I want to play a gypsy tune full of life and longing and drama. Recently, I tried, and all those years of not practicing have taken their toll. My fingers no longer feel like my own because my brain remembers how they are supposed to move and what it's supposed to sound like, but those treacherous, traitorous fingers of mine will no longer comply. Follow through...

Sometimes I get lonely, too

There's blood in my mouth 'cause I've been biting my tongue all week
I keep on talkin' trash but I never say anything
And the talkin' leads to touchin'
And the touchin' leads to sex
And then there is no mystery left

And it's bad news
Baby I'm bad news
I'm just bad news, bad news, bad news

I know I'm alone if I'm with or without you
But just bein' around you offers me another form of relief
When the loneliness leads to bad dreams
And the bad dreams lead me to callin' you
And I call you and say "C'MERE!"

And it's bad news
Baby I'm bad news
I'm just bad news, bad news, bad news

And it's bad news
Baby it's bad news
It's just bad news, bad news, bad news

'Cause you're just damage control for a walking corpse like me... like you

'Cause we'll all be
Portions for foxes
Yeah we'll all be
Portions for foxes

There's a pretty young thing in front of you
And she's real pretty and she's real into you
And then she's sleepin' inside of you
And the talkin' leads to touchin'
Then touchin' leads to sex
And then there is no mystery left

And it's bad news
I don't blame you
I do the same thing
I get lonely too

And you're bad news
My friends tell me to leave you
That you're bad news, bad news, bad news

That you're bad news
Baby you're bad news
And you're bad news
Baby you're bad news
And you're bad news
I don't care I like you
And you're bad news
I don't care I like you
I like you

This Rilo Kiley song "Portions for Foxes" is an honest song. I dig that. It's a song about filling our loneliness with meaningless sex, quite simply. The mystery of the human form is unveiled in a desperate attempt to satiate a certain hunger, but when that mystery disappears, there is little left to be desired and we're empty all over again. We fill ourselves, if only for a little while, with these fleeting carnal pleasures despite knowing better. And somehow we find ourselves trapped in loveless non-relationships we keep falling back into... The music video (click on the title of this post) is a clever play on the fox bit and the emptiness bit, featuring taxidermists stuffing animals, making them appear to be alive when all they are are empty shells stuffed with fluff. Follow through...

The things we cannot say

You know why therapists will always be in business? Because we will always need people to listen to us talk about ourselves without interruption and without (apparent) judgment, even if we have to pay them to do it. And no one, no matter how saintly, can put up with listening to a perfect stranger blabber on about the same problem incessantly without compensation.

Sure, ease of access to the Internet and the relative anonymity it provides can give you a soapbox to shout from, but there's no guarantee anyone is listening and even less of a chance that anyone cares. It's funny how so many bloggers take their comments so seriously, as if their own thoughts can only be validated if someone else agrees. I've been there, too, so it's not that I'm trying to sit up on my high horse and laugh at those spineless twits. I have been one of those spineless twits and I'm not entirely convinced that I've left that behind me.

So in the battle of Shrink vs. Blog, the therapist usually wins. Even if they are sitting there silently judging you and counting down the minutes until your session is over, they'll at least pretend that the daily vicissitudes of your life are fascinating and complex, if only by asking you questions that you will have to find the answers to yourself. Plus, if you are being a dumbass, your therapist is more likely to try and help you realize that in a constructive way as opposed to the anonymous commenter who has no responsibility or liability in haphazardly typing how stupid you are and how much you suck. But those unwilling or unable to part with hundreds of dollars an hour to talk to a professional, well, at least there's this.

Shrink or blog, however, can both serve the same purpose. They both allow us to vent, think through, and work out complicated ideas, thoughts, or issues... the things we cannot say, for one reason or a million. Follow through...

Toto, I've Got a Feeling We're Not In Kansas Anymore

The Wizard of Oz, with all its questions of direction and purpose, is a very fitting theme for this point in my life. Thus begins my second attempt at themed e-mailing. It's long, but if you are wondering where I am/ will be, skip to the bottom.

Wicked Witch of the West: I'm melting! I'm melting!
It is flippin' hot outside. Thanks to its peninsula status, Korea enjoys hot and humid summers that force me to take multiple showers a day. I am increasingly confined to my cool, air-conditioned quarters, and let me tell ya... sitting in a 12x12 room for x number of hours per day gets old reeeally fast. What I wouldn't give to be in sunny, breezy Los Angeles where the dry heat is offset by Pacific winds and the palm trees sway in rhythm with the rolling tides... you get the picture. Seoul is a jungle of concrete and sweat. My trip to Japan to see JYeh and Schwartzy was a welcome break from the routine, and Tokyo's post-typhoon weather was gray, but mercifully cool.

Wizard of Oz: Why, anybody can have a brain. That's a very mediocre commodity. Every pusillanimous creature that crawls on the Earth or slinks through slimy seas has a brain. Back where I come from, we have universities, seats of great learning, where men go to become great thinkers. And when they come out, they think deep thoughts and with no more brains than you have. But they have one thing you haven't got: a diploma.
I graduate from my MBA program on August 25th. I will then have yet another diploma that suggests I learned something of value at a seat of great learning. It's almost been an entire year in Seoul for me, but the deepest thoughts I've had have usually involved where I would travel next.

Dorothy: Now which way do we go? Scarecrow: Pardon me, this way is a very nice way. Dorothy: Who said that? [Toto barks at scarecrow] Dorothy: Don't be silly, Toto. Scarecrows don't talk. Scarecrow: [points other way] It's pleasant down that way, too. Dorothy: That's funny. Wasn't he pointing the other way? Scarecrow: [points both ways] Of course, some people do go both ways.
No, no. I am not using this to nonchalantly segue into a story about how I've decided I'm bisexual or anything. Sorry to disappoint if you have, like me, your mind in the gutter 79% of the time. This snippet falls in my 21%.

I'm pretty confused about which of the many paths to take at this fork in the yellow brick road. The world may be my oyster but does this oyster really have to be so damn big? How will I ever find my pearl? I'm considering the following options at the moment:

1. Work
   Cowardly Lion : All right, I'll go in there for Dorothy. Wicked Witch or no Wicked Witch, guards or no guards, I'll tear them apart. I may not come out alive, but I'm going in there. There's only one thing I want you fellows to do.
   Tin Woodsman, Scarecrow: What's that?
   Cowardly Lion: Talk me out of it.
   
   I do want a job; kind of. The idea of working isn't all that appealing, but the thought of making money again has me longing for the good ol' commodity brokerage days, except I don't want to be a commodity broker anymore. I searched far and wide for jobs abroad, but with my current level of work experience, I can't get a job in Europe because no one thinks I'm worth the hassle of finding an EU work permit. Woe is (part of) me. The other part is doing the cabbage patch.
   
   
2. Travel in SE Asia
   Dorothy : Lions and tigers and bears! Oh, my!
   
   I don't know when I'll be in Asia again, or when I'll have this much free time thanks to my aforementioned unemployed status. I dream of terracotta soldiers and the Plain of Jars, of Ankur Wat and longboats on the lush green banks of the Mekong Delta... And then the thought of traveling alone scares me. I met some awesome people who were traveling through SE Asia alone when I was in Vietnam, and they inspired me. But now that it's time to take the plunge, I'm hesitating, much like I did at the edge of the 53 meter (174 foot) bungee jump off Hantan bridge last weekend. If you want to see a video of my body flailing helplessly at the mercy of gravity, let me know. I'll hook you up with some video footage.
   
   
3. Volunteer in SE Asia
   Cowardly Lion: I- I- I hope my strength holds out.
   Tin Woodsman: [hanging by Lion's tail] I hope your tail holds out!
   
   I want to travel, but it seems a little bit selfish. To make myself feel better, I looked into some opportunities to volunteer in SE Asia. There are orphanages and children who can't afford English tutors located conveniently on the tropical shores of Indonesia and the magical mountains of Northern Thailand. Now if only I can get the volunteer org to help me find a way to finance inter-volunteering vacations...
   
   
4. More school
   Wizard of Oz : Therefore, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Universitartus Committiartum E Pluribus Unum, I hereby confer upon you the honorary degree of ThD.
   Scarecrow: ThD?
   Wizard of Oz: That's... Doctor of Thinkology.
   
   I reeeeeally want to move to Europe, but since no one will hire me for the kind of job I want in Europe without fluency in a European language other than English, I will need to become fluent. My best shot at fluency is French, but no one will hire me to work in France if I am not already fluent, so school is my only other option. Since I'll have a masters degree , the next logical step is a PhD, so I'll be applying to some PhD programs at French business schools in fall 2008. After 4 years in France, there's got to be someone willing to hire me there... *fingers crossed*
   
   
5. Go back to the US
   Dorothy : There's no place like home!
   
   I've been fighting the homesickness with fantasies of flight, but it's coming over me like a wave of nausea on a Saturday morning following a big Friday night: there's just no stopping it. I miss LA, I miss my friends in the US, and I miss my mom and brother. My lil bro Dan just got out of the Marines, so he's home now. I haven't seen him since January 2006! One thing I do not miss is northern Virginia, but I feel like a stint back in NoVa might do me some good. Get me grounded again. Not to mention allow me to hang out with all the NoVans, drive my car, and abuse BBQ and basement karaoke privileges Chez Han. I haven't been in the US or any Western country for a full year now. I wonder if I'll suffer from reverse culture shock... and if so, who will cure me?
   

Since I'm feeling nostalgic, homesick, and corny, I'll close with this:

Wizard of Oz: A heart is not judged by how much you love; but by how much you are loved by others.

Ultimately, I want to be at the place where I can be with the ones I love, and the ones who love me back. Ideally, it'll involve tequila, but that's negotiable. Follow through...

Seoul Scrabulous

Nate and Jason's tales adventures in lands far, far away from America have inspired me to write my own, though I must admit to being a newbie with this whole "themed" e-mail thing. It should also be mentioned that I can't help but feel a little intimidated with my own feeble attempt at humor and other topics of interest after the epic storytelling we've witnessed from Nate-in-Rome and Jason-in-Tokyo. Since I am unapologetically dorky, allow me to go with a Scrabble themed e-mail. (I've spent a lot of time on Scrabulous.com lately.)

YODEL -- It's tough to think of words that start with Y.
yodel: To sing so that the voice fluctuates rapidly between the normal chest voice and a falsetto. It was probably first used in the Alps as a method of communication between mountain peaks, and it later became a part of the traditional music of the region.

The Sound of Music is easily one of my favorite musicals/ movies of all time. The action takes place in Salzburg, Austria, just prior to World War II. Maria, a woman studying to become a nun has begun to doubt her calling, is sent out to be a governess to the seven children of Captain von Trapp, a widower and a decorated World War I captain who is an Austrian patriot at a time when it would be safer to be friendly to the ascendant Nazi regime.

I realize that Austria is a long way from Korea, but somehow, I managed to find myself cavorting with Austrians and Germans frequently. I eased my way into it at first, associating with Korean Germans like Chung-kun, Sun-jung, Julian, and Illuk whose parents immigrated from to Germany during the time of the German labor shortage as nurses or laborers. Then, I branched out and moved onto other German-speakers like Steffi and Marijana. Soon, I was scrambling to learn random German phrases like"Du bist geil" (You are sexy) or "Wie geil ist das denn" (How cool is that)!

Aside from one traumatic incident involving a drunk German-speaking Austrian boy showing up at my apartment unwelcome and unnanounced at 4 in the morning and refusing to leave because he was too drunk, my experience with the Germanic people has been fantastisch. I was a little disappointed that none of the Austrians knew how to yodel, but I'll sing "The Lonely Goatherd" for you any time you wanna hear a Korean girl yodel to Rodgers and Hammerstein.

***I actually wanted to write about the Swedes here but (1) I don't think Swedes yodel and (2) I'm retaliating. They never made Swedish meatballs for me before leaving as promised and now I am hurt. I'm at a loss as to what to say about the Swedes. No. Scratch that. I know exactly what I'll write about the Swedes in my next update. *Evil grin*

SEXUAL -- An X word that isn't too difficult to make.
Love is a constellation of emotions and experiences related to a sense of strong affection or profound oneness.^[1] The meaning of love varies relative to context. Romantic love is seen as an ineffable feeling of intense attraction shared in passionate or intimate attraction and intimate interpersonal and sexual relationships.^[2]

(Okay, so I really wanted to talk about love and not sex, but SEXUAL is a better Scrabble word than LOVE. Although I suppose LOVELY wouldn't be that bad...)

I want to congratulate Marie on her recent wedding and to pre-emptively congratulate Nate on his upcoming wedding. I'm so happy you've found the ones you want to spend the rest of your life with!

My "love" life, which would much more aptly be entitled something else, has been disappointing at best. In fact, now that I am sitting here trying to write something about it, I'm at a loss. I've been in Korea for almost a year now, and I have no meaningful relationships to speak of. I suppose that's ok, though, since I hadn't planned to stay here longer than a year anyhow. I have picked up a few excellent non-boyfriends in Korea. You know, boys with whom you do all the fun hanging-out stuff without the awkward strings-attached stuff.

I'm going to leave that last sentence open to interpretation in order to up the mystery factor of this e-mail.

ANXIETY -- A 7-letter word (known as a "bingo") using high scoring letters X and Y.
anxiety: A state of uneasiness and apprehension, as about future uncertainties. It is often accompanied by physical sensations such as heart palpitations, nausea, chest pain, shortness of breath, or tension headache.

Besides being a great Scrabble word, this word also accurately describes how I feel as I continue on this long and arduous process known as "job hunting." When I came to Korea University to get my MBA, I knew it wasn't going to impress any of the big companies upon graduation. I figured it was simply a chance to get out of commodities, work on my Korean language skills, visit my family, and travel. It's been all of that, and more, but now this whole issue of the J-O-B is on the horizon yet again.

About a month ago, I was called in to interview with ING. They've got this SWEET management development program where they rotate you through different functional areas and geographic locations for three years, based out of their headquarters in Amsterdam. Five weeks of vacation plus national holidays? I could see SO MUCH of Europe in three years! So I went to their office in Korea and had an interview with a very pregnant Dutch recruiter there. I rocked the interview, and she said she'd be getting my resume where it needed to go, but it was her last day as she was going on maternity leave for three months. Worried about any discontinuities that might adversely affect my chances at the position, I sought non-formal channels of influence.

I went out to dinner the next week with the CEO of ING Wholesale Banking Korea. I had met him at the birthday party of a Belgian friend's son, and set up an appointment to go to his office and discuss my career prospects at a global bank like ING. I arrived at his office around 6, when our meeting was scheduled, but he was on a conference call till 7 so I patiently worked on a paper until he was ready to see me. He apologized, and asked if we could talk over a snack.

The "snack" ended up being a five course meal at an overpriced Chinese restaurant, complete with a Chilean Cabernet Sauvignon. We were still talking animatedly, so we had another glass of wine, and then decided to move to another wine bar. Two more bottles later, we've made friends with the bartender and gotten her drunk with us, and I'm pretty sure I've convinced him I would be a stellar addition to the ING team using my arsenal of thinly-disguised self-promoting stories and laughing interestedly at pretty much anything he said. Around midnight, it was time to go home, and as I gave him a quick hug goodbye, he tapped my butt.

The tap itself wasn't lewd; it was like a pat on the back, except far too low. He's a tall guy. It's not like his hand is naturally at my butt-level. There had to be some intent on his part. However, as it was not a butt-grab and could well be attributed to a drunken slip of hand, I chose to ignore it and simply pretend it was an accident. The next morning, I received an e-mail from him saying he was sorry if he had been at all inappropriate, and I told him not to worry, could he put me in touch with that recruiter he'd been telling me about?

Fast forward. I've gone through a phone interview with regional headquarters in Hong Kong with favorable results and have been asked to take an online assessment. It consists of abstract reasoning, mathematical reasoning, verbal reasoning, emotional reasoning, and a personality questionnaire. It's a two hour test, and the first three sections are timed. I took this test about two weeks ago, upon completion, I was in despair. It was harder than I had expected, and I had only completed 85% of the math section before running out of time. The personality questionnaire was hard because I didn't know what characteristics they valued, so I went with my gut and was as honest as possible (although I did lie when they asked me about whether I liked things to be neat and orderly... I am messy messy messy; just look at my room).

There was no word on the test results for one entire, agonizing week. Finally, my contact in Hong Kong told me she'd received the results and was waiting to hear from Europe.

Another agonizing week passed, and I was wallowing in self-pity and cursing the gods for not making me good at math like all the other Asian kids. Then, a glimmer of hope appeared as I opened my e-mail and saw that my HK contact had written me back.

Hi Melody,

I would like to introduce you to **** who is involved in the Global Graduate Recruitment for ING. She will be you main point of contact from now on.

Best of luck!

****

ING Asia/Pacific Ltd

Human Resources

39/F One International Finance Centre

1 Harbour View Street, Central, Hong Kong

Why was she passing me off to another recruiter? Was this a good thing? Dare I hope?

Then I went shopping with Jean in Dongdaemun and had forgotten all about it until I got a phone call from an unknown international number... my heart skipped a beat. Could it be?

I answered, and sure enough, it was the recruiter from Amsterdam. She told me they had gotten my test results and they were "very positive" and that management was "very interested" in me. As some of the pent-up frustration and self-doubt unraveled, I imagined the scene in Amelie where she melts into a puddle of water. Instead, after setting up a phone interview with managers in Amsterdam for this week, I got off the phone, whooped, and jumped up and down.

I don't know if you've ever whooped and jumped up and down in an area densely populated by Koreans, but they've got no shame when it comes to staring. None.

So now the competition's really tough. If I make it past this phone interview, I suspect they'll fly me out for a face-to-face. If I make it through all the hoops, I'll be in Amsterdam by September. Keep your fingers crossed for me; if I can get the job I'll be sure to get a comfy couch!

QAT -- Useful when you need to make a Q word and there is no U in sight.
qat (Catha edulis, family Celastraceae, Ge'ez ጫት č̣āt; Arabic: قات; IPA: [kat]), and also known as khat, gat, chat, and miraa), is a flowering tropical evergreen plant containing the alkaloid cathinone, an amphetamine-like stimulant which causes excitement and euphoria.

While I haven't been chewing any qat to get my jollies as of late, I have long championed another path to excitement and euphoria: tequila. I just need to share this joy with you: at my favorite bar in Seoul, Tinpan2, a shot of tequila is 2,000 won, roughly equivalent to $2. Yes. It's true. And just outside Tinpan is a tiny kiosk that looks like a robot and sells cocktails-to-go in little zip-loc bags. Genius.

ADIEU -- You've got all these pesky vowels and one crummy D.
adieu: said to wish a fond farewell; good-bye.

Now it's 3 in the morning and I'm tired. (I started writing this at 1 am, two hours ago!) Class tomorrow. But maybe I can squeeze in just one quick game of Scrabble... Follow through...

Heart vomit

If a man isn't good enough to be a boyfriend but not quite hot enough to be a fling, you're better off alone.

All three of my best friends from college are in committed, loving relationships that will likely lead to marriage sometime in the foreseeable future. Me, on the other hand? It's been so long since I've had a steady boyfriend that I'm afraid I don't remember how. Frankly, while I am bursting from the seams with joy for their happiness, somewhere in the chaos that is my brain/heart/soul, I feel nervousness welling up like a great fountain of... vomit. Again, I must stress that I don't resent the girls for finding men worthy of their attentions, but rather, I'm starting to feel hopelessly behind and what's worse, it's actually making me a little anxious despite the courageous fight I'm putting up, hence the nausea.

I don't see myself settling down with anyone soon. I know I'd like to... if God would just help us cross paths, I'd be delighted. But for now, my main criteria for a meaningful, long-term relationship is that he be mobile. I want to live and work in different countries and cities for the next few years, so if it's going to work, he must have the ability to up and leave, a desire to see the world, and a taste for adventure. Apparently, that's a lot to ask because while a lot of people claim to possess those characteristics, most people lack the follow-through. *Sigh*

So for the last couple of months I've been overcome with nostalgia for past loves and past lives, but at the same time I refuse to believe that there is nothing worthwhile to be had at this moment in my life. My mother went to see a fortuneteller who assured her that I'd get married, but that I wouldn't meet "the one" until 2009. I guess that gives me a carte blanche for two full years to have fun and make mistakes, right? So one might hope. I have come to the conclusion that most men aren't worth your time. The ones who do want to have a relationship have to exhibit more desirable characteristics than men you simply want to keep around for a short while. As for the men you'll keep around for just a short while, they might as well be scorching hot and nice to look at because you sure ain't in it for the conversation.

I'm delirious. Haven't slept properly for two weeks, pretty much. Disregard everything I just said. Follow through...