Life

Before you read any of this, I want to emphasize to any concerned friends and family in Korea or back home that I am not depressed. Depression has always hid in the shadows like a coward, waiting for me to let my guard down, but I know what frightens it; I know what keeps it at bay: Love and laughter. Thankfully, I have plenty of that in my life, thanks to the very people who are reading this. 

As many of you know, last year, my mom's suffered through a terrifying and painful bout of Depression unlike anything she's ever experienced. She had been hiding her Depression for some time, but it was compounded by a string of events that brought it to a boiling point.

It was emotionally exhausting, fighting for her and convincing her to fight for herself. The sight of her paralyzed in bed frightened me not only because I love her so much and because she's the strongest person I know, but because there's so much of her in me. Looking at her, I was concerned I was seeing my future.

Even in her weakened state, she, too, was worried about me, which is why she told me to make sure I take care of myself--care for my mental, physical, and emotional well-being--so that I don't end up like her in 25 years. That conversation is what sparked my desire to travel the world, as well as my goal of becoming a writer, doing what I love, and working to live, rather than living to work. When I drown myself in my work, which I tend to do, I lose sight of what's important, and I sometimes forget to love and laugh and live. The result is a disquieting feeling of agitation and anxiety, an itch in my heart that won't go away.

This feeling doesn't only come when I overwork myself, though. The feeling comes and goes, but it's always there, lying dormant in my heart, just waiting to erupt in a muted explosion that paints the sky grey.

While I'm not depressed, I do sometimes get hit by this gnawing feeling, as if there's a part of me missing, this hole in my heart, and without that missing piece, until I find it, I cease to be, because I have no purpose. I'm nothing. That absence, that void, that silence is maddening; it's paralyzing. It's like my body is telling me I'm not doing what I'm supposed to be doing at this very moment, like I'm out of place, but I have no idea where I'm supposed to be, so I just give in to the silence and let it drown me.

Since coming to Korea, I've noticed that on days like that, I like to escape in a book or a movie or a TV show. I like to drown the silence with stories, with words, with laughs and tears. The problem is they're not my tears or laughs; they're the pains and joys of a fictional character. Eventually, the silence breaks down this facade, this wall of noise I've built, and finds me hiding under the blankets. At that moment, I resent the words for not protecting me, and I resent myself for thinking that they could.

The most frustrating thing is that in that moment of realization, I can see myself lying there helpless, and I try to scream at myself, but no words come out. I want to shake myself out of this despondency, but I just can't; I just lie there. Just like my mom did.

That's when I go to a place where the silence can't find me: my music. The feeling I get at the sound of the first few notes to "Fight Fire With Fire" by Metallica is such an amazing high. That feeling is why I have a damn drum tattooed over my heart. It serves as a reminder of how music brought me out of a dark place and kept my heart beating to the beat of an endless song that resonates in us all.

On the song "Lakes" by the Strumbellas, Simon Ward sings, "Oh, I miss my heart/oh, I miss my heart/Oh, I miss it so." When I listen to the song I hear a man mourning the loss of his innocence, of this place in his heart where he lived as a child, this place that was embodied by his home and his family.

That silence, that hole in my heart is a feeling of longing, though I don't know if it's for something I lost or something I've yet to find. But in music, I find comfort in certainty; certainty of what is, what was, and the potential of what can be. Music gives me hope and a purpose by reminding me that the missing piece of my heart is in fact somewhere out there, waiting; I simply have to go find it.

While my mom turned to religion for emotional salvation, I turn to my own gods: Hetfield, Dylan, White, Ward. On Saturday, that's how I found the strength to get out of bed, look out the widow, and see the beautiful sunny day shining outside my window. The rain had stopped and the clouds were gone. That's how I finally got on the train to Busan. And that's how Life happened.

Silence is not golden; it's goddamn terrifying. It's immeasurably vast and easy to get lost in. And though I know it's always there, lurking in the shadows, I know that as long as I follow my heart, everything will be okay.

Highlights of the Life photography exhibit:
- Winston Churchill stands in his art studio, his sanctuary where he dealt with his stress and Depression by painting. He looks so at ease in his environment. That's all I want.
- A peaceful, soft light shines through the window on to a seated Ghandi as he reads the newspaper.
- Che smiles a Clooney-esque smile as he turns away from the camera with a cigar in his mouth.
- Charlie Chaplin laughs at himself in the mirror, dressed as a clown; the childish elation in his face, the crinkles by his eyes, and the bit of hair tied up at the top of his head all put a smile on my face.
- Ali is drenched in sweat and his body glistens. The contrast of light and shadows is made even more beautiful by the flames in his eyes as he stares off in a trance.
- Queen Elizabeth II sits behind a microphone stand as she is about to give a speech at the University of West Indies in Jamaica shortly after Prince George's death. She looks tense, but also determined to prove her authority as she sits in an elegant white dress.
- Jackson Pollock is crouched over a large canvas with a look of concentration imprinted on his face and cigarette in his mouth,as paint trickles from the glob on his brush.
- Albert Einstein's office is in complete disarray; his desk and shelves are cluttered with books and journals and there are equations covering up every inch of the blackboard. The photo was taken hours after he passed away.
- The Beatles sing to the camera as they wade in a freezing pool. Ringo looks to be in pain and is gritting his teeth, while Paul laughs in disbelief at the cold and John serenades the camera with his eyes closed, as if the frigid temperature doesn't even bother him.
- Marilyn Monroe sings to 12, 000 Marines on a USO tour in Korea. The crowd look like ants descending from the mountains in the back.
- James Dean walks down a cloud covered New York City street, buildings barely visible in the background. With the cold rain coming down, his jacket collar up to protect his face from the winds, and his hands shoved in his pockets, he looks so young and alone.
- People take to the streets in Times Square to celebrate victory over Japan. One sailor in particular is celebrating by kissing every woman in sight, whether she's young, old, pretty, ugly, fat, skinny. Her white nurse uniform is accentuated by the sailor's black suit. The look on the faces of onlookers is priceless.
- Iwo Jima: Soldiers are crouched among dead trees, a massive explosion just ahead of them. A haze swallows the trees. The photo puts you in the battle.
- A young and hopeful Anne Frank stares slightly up at the camera with deep set eyes as a hint of a smile crosses her lips. Her hair is parted on the right and she wears a blouse and a sweater, as if she's ready for picture day at school. She looks absolutely beautiful.
- A wounded Sergeant, bandaged head and all, pulls away from his aids and walks towards his friend, arms outstretched and with a look of concern on his face. His friend is seated on the floor looking up, also hurt, covered in mud, and looking as if he's given up all hope.
- Row upon row of men and women in formal attire seated in a theatre wearing 3D glasses at the first 3D film in 1952.
- A nine week old baby swimming in a pool with his grandmother by his side. He's smiling an adorable smile as he looks down in wonder at this new fascinating new world and paddles.
- Micky Mantle tosses his helmet in disgust as he walks back to the dugout after striking out. His face shows the wounded pride of a fading athlete close to the end of his career.
- Two four-year olds kiss, her hand gently placed around his neck, as they both look away to the left with smiling eyes.
- Another pair kissing behind a frying pan that the girl is holding up to their faces. His adorable old man suit and her cute dress make them look like a hilariously sophisticated old couple.

All of these photos, even the ones of war and suffering, showed people fighting off the silence with tears of sorrow and laughs of joy--the heart's clearly and eloquently spoken words; they fearlessly follow their hearts, and I admire them greatly for it. But none moved me quite like the very last two photos that I saw.

The first was of a Navy Chief Petty Officer. He's in uniform and is playing an according with a stream of tears rolling down his face and he looks on in agony as Roosevelt's body is carried away. He has so much love in his face for the deceased president, it's almost unbearable. The sight is so moving that the women in the background in the shot aren't even looking at the president's casket--they're staring at him.

The other photo was called "The Walk to Paradise Garden." After getting wounded while documenting World war II, the photographer set his eyes on capturing "Humanism" and "Lyricism" in his work. His children, who look to be around 3 and 5 years old in the photo, walk through a forest towards a park. Their father captures them from behind as they emerge out of the shadows of the forest and into the light of day. The photo shows the light of hope and the glow of childhood innocence. The photographer says that in that moment he made a spiritual decision that he was going to continue living despite the emotional and physical pains he was fighting everyday.

The second photo hit particularly close to home. It reminded me of Doris. It reminded me of the day she taught me that I should be a teacher. I took her to the park after a particularly rough day that found me questioning everything about my future, and in that visit, much like photographer W. Eugene Smith, I promised myself that I would find a way to be happy. I would become a teacher. A six year old taught me that.

Though I may find myself longing for that something, whatever it may be, following my heart always brings me back to my family. They are the only thing that's certain in my life. They sustain me and support me and believe in me and love me, and that's why I know that I'll find that missing piece of my heart. I'm certain of it.

Not Quite Hellraiser

Acupuncture is truly extraordinary. It's half art and half science, and after my first session, I am still mystified by it. Not that I ever questioned its legitimacy or anything, but I just never thought I'd see the day where I'd volunteer to have needles sticking out of my face.

My back and my neck had been killing me for the past two weeks. I was stiff as a board, I could barely turn my neck, and even just sitting back in my chair at work was a bit uncomfortable.

I couldn't take it anymore, and so when the sun finally decided to show its face after two crappy cold and rainy days, I headed over to the acupuncturist downtown. It turned out to be a mix of acupuncture and chiropractic, which was fine by me.

I was pretty nervous about the prospect of being turned into Hellraiser, but I was also excited about the prospect of being put back together again. They could rebuild me; they had the technology.

The doctor didn't really speak much English, but he spoke enough. Once I answered some of his questions, he had me lay down face up, face down, head facing him, head facing way from him, and all sorts of kinky positions. He contorted my legs and arms this way and that in simple stretches.

It wasn't until he got to the neck that things got interesting. "Turn right," he said, indicating he was going to turn my neck to the right. "Relax, and tell me when it hurts." At the sound of the first crack, I didn't quite tell him it hurt; I sort of just groaned at him. A sound just fell out of my mouth.

This would be the first of many snap, crackle, and pops he'd draw out of me. There were a couple of times where he put pressure on certain points on my neck and shoulders and I felt this burning sensation. But then just as the pain became unbearable, the flame turned into a delicious liquid heat that washed all of the discomfort away.

Apparently the problem is that my jaw is not completely aligned--the right side is slightly higher than the left or something--and so it pulls unevenly on my spine, throwing everything out of alignment. He had me walk down the hallway like it was a catwalk and then proceeded to tell me that I basically don't walk correctly. I can't even walk correctly; how sad is that? He made me clamp down on a mouth guard that is supposed to align my jaw, did some more pulls, twists, and turns, and had me walk once more.

At one point, he had a hand on the back of my head and another against my chin; he seemed to be trying to re-align my jaw himself.

After a couple more neck exercises, I could start to feel more mobility in my neck. The doc had me lay back down, and this time he put a brace type of support beneath my neck, a hot plate on my stomach, and pin in my right lower leg, left arm, and each cheek. He left me there for ten minutes.

The needles felt pretty funky. I could feel every single one sitting in my skin; I could count them with my eyes closed. I have to say, though, a part of me was disappointed that I only had four needles. I kind of wanted to see what it would feel like to be turned into a human pin cushion. (Is that weird?)

After cleaning a bit of blood from my cheek, I was taken to a chiropractor who put some wrestling moves on me until he heard the right crack in my neck. (Honestly, by the end of my session, I lost count of how many times something cracked or popped. It was a bit unnerving.) Sometimes I couldn't hold in my laughter at the situation, and he would smile in response, at least acknowledging how absurd this all looked. I mean, at one point, he had me sit with my back to him and my hands behind my head; he placed a cylindrical pillow between his chest and my back, locked his arms into mine, and lifted me into the air. I thought he'd just stretched my neck by a couple inches or something.

All in all, though, I left there feeling about 75% better than I felt walking in. Best of all, with our medical coverage, it cost me all of $15 for the first session, and every subsequent visit, of which I can assure you there will be many more, will only cost $10. Korea, I love you.

Shinwa Art Village & Seonam Lake Park: A great cap to a great weekend

As I said at the end of the last post, after a good chat with Tankia on our three-hour bus ride home from Andong the previous night, I decided it was finally time I get out and actually see some of Ulsan. I've been here half a year and I haven't seen a damn thing aside from Ulsan Grand Park. Hell, I haven't even been to the bamboo forest! 

And so, I looked around on the ol' Interwebs and I stumbled across the Shinwa Art Village in an industrial part of the city. According to this blog, the construction of an industrial plant in the 60's displaced several people, and they were forcibly relocated to this neighbourhood.

Tired of the depressing sight of a petrochemical complex as its backdrop, citizens of this community called upon some artists to liven up the place with artwork that ranges from Andy Warhol to Van Gogh, Kandinsky, and I think I even saw a Mondrian. 

Things took an interesting turn, though, before I even got there. Those who are familiar with my work will not be surprised at all by the following little anecdote. After all, it's not the first time this has happened. 

As I made my way to the bus stop to catch the bus to the park, I realized I'd forgotten my camera at home. However, when I got home, I realized the camera was actually nowhere to be found at all. I freaked out and tried to retrace my steps, eventually concluding that I either left it at Subway the previous night or it was forever lost in the backseat of the taxi that I took home afterwards. Praying that I left it at Subway and some saint had handed it in, I took a cab directly to Subway and walked in with shaking legs.

I approached the counter and recognized the same fellow who had served me the night before. I looked at him with the pleading eyes of a begging dog and started, "Hi, I was here last night." He nodded, I assume a sign that he remembered me. "I sat right there," I said, pointing to my table, "and I think maaaaaaybe.....maaaaaaayyyyyybeeee...I might have left my camera here."

He went in the back to check and I held my breath. I watched him walk to the very back corner and turn around. He asked me the brand of the camera and I explained that it was a Canon camera in a Sony camera bag. As soon as he held it in the air, my eyes popped out and my arms shot up in excitement like flare guns as I blurted out, "I love you!" which aroused a couple laughs from the back room.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Korea, I love you. Needless to say, I left Subway with a spring in my step and in a much better mood to go exploring.

This marks the entrance to the village.

This is also by the entrance. A large-breasted woman with scissors stabbed into her back and a large whale about to crash down on her. Not sure what this is supposed to say exactly...

Then there were pieces that were just beautiful in their own right.

Even the stairs are awesome!

However there were also some obscure and weird looking pieces, just to balance things out.

I was thinking South Park meets Charlie Brown.

This dude's eyes looked straight up eeeevil. And there was another one with a shovel. 

Yup.

I want this put on a shirt.

Some of my favourites, though, were the ones that featured whales. 

There is something mystical about a whale falling through the sky. (Much more majestic than the scene from Hitchhiker's Guide.)

Aboriginal influence?

The entire scene felt very out of place in Ulsan. These cute little brightly coloured structures, fitted with gates that let you peer into open homes, the impressively clean sloped faux cobblestone roads barely wide enough for traffic, and the elderly man standing outside his convenience store smiling at me from ear to ear made me feel like I could've been in some small faraway village.

The cherry on top of this outing was that I finally found some blasted post cards in Ulsan! 

Following my stroll through Shinwa Art Village, I meandered my way towards Seonam Lake Park, not exactly sure if I was heading in the right direction, but just hoping for the best. When I came to a major street and saw Yaum Market, I knew I was on the right path. My next goal, as is usually the case, was to find an English speaking Korean and ask for directions.

With phase two complete, I found myself at Seonam in no time. I’ll let the pictures do the talking, but I will say this: I will definitely be back to Seonam once everything is a bit greener, because this is what the park looks like when it’s in full bloom. Mind you, I still liked what I saw, but that looks purdy as hell!

Ignore the bottom right. 

Note to self: Don't buy anything in there. Saw this on my walk to the park.

Entrance to the park 

View of the city from above.

Always so very tempted...

I love that this...

...is right in the midst of that...

I think it was this view that gave me a real glimpse into just how massive Ulsan really is and how little of it I've actually seen.

Even up here, they still have time to feel the burn.

And if you get bored, there's a random little library to peruse through.

Korea, I love you.

For those who fancy a workout after a nice hike.

Or a soccer match.

Lake Church replica not much taller than myself.

San Pietro

I believe the goal here was to make the rock stand up.

An Min Temple

Complete with the mini fish and bell and everything.

After an art-filled morning and a beautiful hike under skies that threatened to rain all afternoon, I came home to chow down on some delicious chicken and catch up with my buddy Doctor Who, before nestling in with my beloved Kindle. Best weekend I've had in a long time.