Tuesday, October 7, 2008
What bugs me is that this is probably the first you've heard about this.
Brigade homeland tours start Oct. 1 - Armytimes.com Article
Brigade homeland tours start Oct. 1 - Militarytimes.com Forums
Not a joke, kids. Check the URLs. And then freak out and leave. Or consider taking advantage of your second amendment rights.
Christ, I hate being right.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Political Interlewd
--- On Sat, 10/4/08, D____
From: D_____
Subject:
To: "T_____" , "C_____" , "Niko" , "J_____"
Date: Saturday, October 4, 2008, 5:27 AM
I am sending the links to these articles only to you four, unless I get
a bite from G_____ or U_____. I should have the confidence of my
convictions, namely the guts, to send it to them anyway, but I don't.
This is information you probably already have but, in case you don't, I
send these to read. The stakes are very high this November. We really
need to take back our country. To me, that Congress passed the
"bail-out bill" is a very, very, very bad sign.
---D_____
http://themovingtarget.wordpress.com/2008/10/03/news-from-the-vp-
debate-the-mccain-palin-coup/
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/naomi-wolf/the-battle-plan-ii-
sarah_b_128393.html
As to whether to send these on to G_____ or U_____, I hesitate to say, except to consider this: the ideologies referred to in the articles, and the ideologies of the Bush/Cheney/Rovian cabal of the last eight (or fifteen, depending on when you want to start counting) are emphatically not traditional Republican concepts. Traditional Republicans are fiscal conservatives (remember the "tax-and-spend Democrats" of the eighties?), not $630 billion war-mongers or $810 billion bailout advocates. More importantly, traditional Republicans are mostly interested in limiting centralized (i.e., Federal) government, and advocate deconcentrating power by turning it over to the individual states. They certainly aren't interested in heaping it all in one wing of the White House. Republicans, all things considered, are relatively sane folks.
These psychos aren't Republicans (as G_____ pointed out to me a couple years ago, during what was, admittedly, our one and only conversation about politics); they're Neo-Cons. And Neo-Cons are, as far as I can tell, more or less indiscriminate power-mongers. What I find deeply upsetting about them is that they appropriate Republican language in order to further their own radical goals. "No tax-and-spend" became "No new taxes," which turned into tax cuts and deregulation (for businesses and the wealthy). And, since Republicans have always tended to have more faith in laissez-faire capitalism, there's your rationale. Even Sarah Palin kept going on and on about how government has to "get outta the way" of individuals (and individual businesses), which, amazingly, is why she's for expanding vice-presidential executive power.
And, of course, what fuels all of this and gives it legitimacy is fear, both realized and imagined. Both sides tell us America isn't safe, as though safety were all that mattered. (Here is where I digress and point out that one thing that I do not like about Obama is that he voted for the FISA bill this year. You know, that bill that grants immunity to all the telecom companies like AT&T who assisted the government in its illegal wiretapping? Yeah, Obama okayed that one. And apparently Joe Biden and I are the only ones who think that wasn't cool. Chill out, kids, I still voted for him.) I often like to suggest that security and liberty are a zero-sum game -- the more you have of one, the less you have of the other. Hey, the safest neighborhoods in America are Mafia 'hoods.
Another thing I like to suggest (with a certain gleeful self-righteousness these days) is that everyone go traveling. Of the vast myriad of things Americans are scared stupid of, one of the most prevalent, insidious, and long-lasting is "dem damn furriners," particularly the brown varieties. A little worldliness gives a little perspective and dispels a lot of one's extraneous, if systemic, racism.
I'm preaching to the choir, of course. And I imagine that I'm continuing to when I say that, despite my misgivings about Obama (he's really not that radical, he really is that inexperienced, and there's that damn FISA vote), and despite the apparent shallowness of saying so, I voted for him, and not in small part because he's black.
This is an interesting assessment of Palin succinctly articulating the lingering, not-quite-conscious fears people have about Obama. Hint: it ain't the "inexperience."
"Our opponent ... is someone who sees America, it seems, as being so imperfect, imperfect enough, that he's palling around with terrorists who would target their own country," Palin told a group of donors in Englewood, Colo....
In her character attack, Palin questions Obama's association with William Ayers, a member of the Vietnam-era Weather Underground....
Palin's words avoid repulsing voters with overt racism. But is there another subtext for creating the false image of a black presidential nominee "palling around" with terrorists while assuring a predominantly white audience that he doesn't see their America?
In a post-Sept. 11 America, terrorists are envisioned as dark-skinned radical Muslims, not the homegrown anarchists of Ayers' day 40 years ago. With Obama a relative unknown when he began his campaign, the Internet hummed with false e-mails about ties to radical Islam of a foreign-born candidate.
Whether intended or not by the McCain campaign, portraying Obama as "not like us" is another potential appeal to racism. It suggests that the Hawaiian-born Christian is, at heart, un-American.
So there you are. Obama, I strongly suspect, is not the messiah the lefties hope for. But I don't think he'll completely suck, either. And I'm pretty sure he isn't the smiley-faced spearhead of American fascism that Sarah Palin is. The thing is, as long as he doesn't completely bollix the job (and hey, even if he does, right?), we have at least four years to get used to a presidential face that isn't fish-belly white. We might be a little less terrified of "not like us." Next go-round, we might be willing to consider another one or two, or maybe a woman, or maybe even -- gasp -- a homosexual. Call me batty, but I think a little more flavor in the stew is a good thing.Who am I kidding? 59 million Americans, remember? See you in the re-education camps, kids.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Never a dull moment at the Sehgyeh Wehgukwoh Hagweon, Part 1
I'm not really sure where to begin. Rather a lot has occurred. Really, kinda everything has turned upside-down in thirty days.
Okay, so, work. I'll start there, since that's about eighty percent of my life these days. I think I mentioned that the sked got all gnarly on me. It looked basically like this:
6.35 am: Pour myself out of bed and into a nice pair of pants. Try to remember if I washed my hair yesterday or the day before.
7 am: Intermediate conversation. I've got a book and 14 people to entertain with it. For an hour. At, I repeat, 7 in the morning. Thank god for the vending machine iced coffee. A buck for two, and I can at least feign coherence. Most of the time.
8 am: Three hour break. Go home, wash my hair (or not), and back to bed for another couple of hours until
10.35 am: See 6.35 am. Second verse, same as the first.
11 am: Adult beginners. A couple of absolutely darling ajumma (housewives). They complain about their neglectful husbands and tell me I'm handsome. If only all my classes were like this.
12 pm: Four hours for lunch. That's right, I have a 7 o'clock class, three hours off, an 11 o'clock class, and then four hours off. I guess this is to make up for getting to get up at 10 for two months. So, lunch, class prep, probably another nap. Or news, which I've been using to cheer myself up -- in the vein of "It may be rough, but at least I ain't in America." (Seriously, why are you worrying about me? Aren't you too busy hoarding gold and lynching Congress?)
4 pm: The Gauntlet. The way middle/elementary school classes work is that we alternate classes with a Korean teacher. So I have a main class on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and a second class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. It used to be that I only had to dread MWF, when I had my fifth graders, who were widely acknowledged as the worst class at the school. Now, with my new middle school class at five, I have probably the worst middle school class, too, albeit in a different way. Silent. Surly. And, thanks to Haseyo, from whom I inherited these kids, spoiled by the cash bribes he ended up resorting to. I've tried it a couple of times, but I always feel a little, er, dirty. Hasn't helped me anyway. Going to class feels like walking out to the parking lot at night and seeing five guys sitting on your car. Quiet, hostile, and expecting money. It is an ugly scene.
6 pm: TOEFL prep. Things have improved. I have some measure of rapport with them now. But the book is ridiculous, at least for a handful of thirteen-year-olds. It's proficiency tests for college, for god's sake. A lot of it is note-taking and outlining and serious essay-writing, and all (ideally) under a time limit. There's listening stuff, conversations and lectures and things, and they speak so fast it's hard for me to take notes. And it's mostly about boring college topics, too. It's all so advanced that I'm not really teaching English in there anymore, I'm mostly teaching writing -- stuff like taking notes and summarizing information. I've started bringing in a lot of independent stuff, articles and things. One day, we watched clips from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, and I asked them to tell me what was going on. In some ways, I'm kind of back to where I was in June, winging it and hoping I can figure out what this class is supposed to be. But at least now I have some idea what I'm doing. Weirdly, this has become the class where I most feel like a teacher, not just giving information, but imparting knowledge. It's still rough; everyone in there is dog-tired and sick of class, and no one can write a decent outline (except me -- I've been getting a lot better at it), but it actually feels like we're getting somewhere, even if it is slow and exhausting. My dread fear is that one day I'll actually figure it out, and then my schedule will change, and the class'll go to some other teacher who'll have to start all over again.
7 pm: Adult beginners again. Thankfully, I end my day with a class I adore. Then it's take-home gimbap, maybe some downloaded American television (Battlestar Galactica is still the best thing on; Prison Break somehow keeps getting trashier and more entertaining; Fringe, the new J. J. Abrams show, blows white-hot chunks of suckiness, but I watch it anyway), maybe an hour or two of Spore, shower. Bed.
And this is every day. Jenn, you were right, this place is a boot camp. And this is just the schedule. This is not including the further drama, the girlfriend, the news, and what all. But these are stories for another time. Probably tomorrow.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Yes, I am a rotten, neglectful bastard. But you all knew that.
Two, that same ass is busy being kicked soundly by my new schedule this month. To wit, class at 7 am, and anyone who knows me knows what an absolutely lethal time that is for me. Add a total of three middle/elementary school classes, and the prospect of sitting down to write five hundred fascinating words about Korea twice a week makes my brain cringe.
I also still don't have pictures. Basically, I can't seem to get my camera's battery to charge because of the voltage difference or whatever. My solutions seem to be either to track down some sort of voltage-converting transformer box-thing, or get a new, Korean camera. My phone does take pictures, yes, and, yes, theoretically I can email them to myself and post them or something, but that takes, I dunno what, phone internet something which I don't have.
Upshot: I'm a slack-ass bastard. I'll try to catch up with emails at least in the next little while, and I'll be back on the blog with something proper soon here, I hope.
Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry. Really really. I had no idea it had been so long.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Special mailbag edition!
Hi Geb! Glad you could make it. No one, unfortunately, has asked me about vulnerable sector screening yet. How's Boston (transplant version)?
Claire, way to go...all the way into total blogspot anonymity. Thanks for the lengthy email update, by the way. I'm sorry I never wrote back. Not much to say, really, except thanks for the sympathy and the rhapsodizing about your new neighborhood. It was most entertaining, and I'd say you can add writing to your list of "whodathunk" talents.
Chris: Dude, anything is better than the jack-holes at the Fogg. A six-month dead, demonically reanimated, rabid baboon is better than those fuckers. Incidentally, my first paycheck totally vindicates my mad decision to leave behind that ten-grand buyout. I worked it out, and, hour for hour, I'm making literally twice as much as I made there. Tell Whitt. Please. I need to hear the "But still..." before I can properly gloat. Also, how's Boston (native version)?
Everybody: Uh, despite recent comments, my dear, dear friend Nichole is not actually hyper-violent. She's just, um, easily excitable. And a little protective. You'll a good Mama Bear, Nic.
Hi to David, too! Davey, I checked out the blog you have in your profile, and I gotta say, I'm not impressed. Three words, man: Smacks. Of. Effort. (Huh, three words...)
Ya know, Dad, it really sounds like you're hitting your stride with this whole retirement thing. Poetry festivals, camping -- camping? When was the last time you went camping? To be honest, I was a little worried while I was in Dallas that, while you certainly appreciated the rest, you might be getting a little, I dunno, bored? But this is now, what, like the fifth time you've gone out to L. A. since I left? Claire tells me you call her and go on and on about this week's concert and next week's opera and stuff -- I'm glad you're having fun, Dad, I really am. It's about time.
By the way, everyone, do y'all know Dad's moving in with Uncle Bill in California? Claire let slip in a comment a few weeks ago, but I wanted to get it all out in the open. This is, let me say, a ridiculously good idea. Yeah, "ridiculous" is the word I want, as in, it feels ridiculous that no one came up with this years ago -- except, of course, it didn't really make sense until like, last month. What I'm trying to say is that the only surprising thing about this news (to me, anyway) is how perfectly natural and sensible it sounds.
I hope you're not too embarrassed by the attention, Dad, but I think you deserve a public round of congratulatory applause.
Finally, thanks to everyone who answered the poll. Thanks Dad, for the time stamp analysis. I'm pretty sure that's what this poll thing was about. Sometimes the answers I'm looking for are different from the questions I ask. And to everyone who reads my stuff at work -- keep it up. Just don't forget it's your jobs I'm teaching Koreans to steal.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Wired again
But what do I really love, I mean really, unabashedly, shout-it-from-the-rooftops, shiteating-grin, paroxysms-of-delight LOVE? The Internet in my apartment. Oh. My. God.
So like, guess where I am right now? I'll give you a hint: I ain't at the friggin' hagweon, that's for damn sure.
Dear god, it's nice. I'm sitting here in my shorts, with a mouth full of almonds and orange juice, Gershwin on my iTunes... and I can bitch and bitch and bitch about work without worrying about Andy glancing at it and deciding he hates me.
Andy, man. I told you there was some drama going down at work, right? Here's what happened: The week after my -- ahem -- "mishap," Ian Teacher came down with something. I come in one morning, Monday, and Ian's looking a bit poorly; his throat hurts, and he's rather pale. He thinks he has strep throat. Yikes. Turns out it's tonsillitis. Double yikes. And it's his bad luck that this comes at the beginning of the month, open house week, and we have to be looking all nice (like, in a tie and all) for new students. Short version: Ian works the whole week. Andy trucks him to the hospital once or twice, gets him some, I dunno what, pills, and tells him not to sleep with the air conditioner on. Wednesday, Ian, desperate and looking like Marley's ghost, comes in with a copy of the contract (detailing sick days) and a doctor's note. No dice. I told Andy he needed to send him home, and we'd work out coverage. Andy told me he was just as concerned about the guy as I was, but he was staying. Ian finally just gave up. He couldn't teach -- his voice was shot and he was delirious -- so he just spent two days playing Uno with everyone and trying not to die. He made it, toughed it out proper, but jeez.
Now, this has kinda become a turning point for me with the hagweon, or with Andy, at any rate. Now, when I broke my face, there was never a question about taking a day off afterward. America, even at my shitty Harvard job, I would've gotten a day off, no problem. But I'm willing to make an allowance for, ya know, cultural differences. But tonsillitis? And this is no "cultural difference," here. The Korean teachers, even the students were all a bit shocked that Ian was still there. And I've been having lunch with one of the teachers at a hagweon down the road, and she said people there don't usually take days off, but if it's serious...
There are two things about this that really piss me off. First of all, sick days are in the contract, and I kinda thought that if you have a contract, then you have to stick to the contract. That's, ya know, why they're contracts. But that's me being naive, of course. People break contracts all the time (though Americans at least try to find loopholes first). It's certainly easier to do when your employees are foreign and don't speak enough of the language to make any proper efforts to enforce them.
Secondly, Andy seems to have taken all this somehow personally. He's been busting on Ian ever since this whole thing. Every day, he has some "feedback" for him. And there are little bullshit things, too, like using the wrong pen for student evaluations (I'm not kidding). And Thursday, he called Haseyo and me in at the end of the day to tell us he was going out of town for the weekend and didn't want any "bad news calls." Like we're doing it to spite him or something. I dunno. I'm beginning to see why people don't stay here for more than a year.
At the risk of getting a bit preachy, I would like to point to this as one of those "learning experiences" I've been looking for out here. I don't want to be one of those sheltered pricks on the message boards who leave the country and moan when it's harder than they thought, but well, it's a little harder than I thought. And most of it is just being out of my comfort zone (which is, granted, fairly small). I mean, I've got a pretty decent job that pays pretty well -- probably better, all things considered, than anything I'd be looking at in the States -- and it wasn't even me who got sick. All the same, it's a bit alarming.
My point is that I have gained a wild new appreciation for immigrants. As I say, things are pretty decent here, drama aside. Beats being some poor Mexican who swims the river and hitchhikes up to Indiana for a lousy, cheap, dangerous job at a meat factory that pays squat and jacks his rights, and he doesn't even know what to fight for because he can't speak English.
So, be nice to immigrants, kids. Maybe learn a little Spanish or something. They're just people, and what they're doing is rough, believe me. Hell, it's hard enough just screwing around. I'd hate to have to do this for real.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Money can't buy happiness, but it does buy a little less suck
So, to the news. Simply, I got paid. Hot damn. I've never been one to really care too much about money -- and by "too much" I mean like, "at all," which, really, I consider something of a failing -- but man oh man, is it good to have a little black in the book. Poor I don't mind all that much, but when it starts cutting into basic necessities... Small wonder I've been so cranky this last while. But I got my 2 mil for the month, and I'm only thirty days away from another 2 mil, and things is okay. So I celebrated with a little chamchi jiggae at lunch (which is fish soup, and still cheap, but beats gimbap every day for a month), and a movie after work (Dark Knight, which Heath Ledger balls up, sticks in his pocket, and walks away with -- full review shortly on my other blog). And Sunday I went to MegaMart and dropped a hundred K on a new pillow and a vacuum cleaner and some friggin' groceries, and topped it off with a big ol' steamed bun straight out of Spirited Away, and a heavenly mocha bun and iced coffee at PappaRoti. Damn, it's good to have some cash.
I also got -- thank all the gods of bureaucracy -- my Alien Registration card (not to mention my passport back), so now I'm all legaled up. More to the point, I can now buy the important things like a phone and -- dear, sweet Jesus -- Internet. This, by the way, is kind of why I haven't written; I am completely sick at this point of hangin' at the hagweon, and I've been literally dreaming of posting from home, whenever I want, on a computer that's actually reasonably speedy (I swear, the cheap-ass hagweon computers are so old, they run on like, coal or something). I should be more or less modern by the end of the week, and I did kinda want to hold out until I could actually say, "Hey, guess what, I'm writing from home!" But then I had all these clamoring fans (well, Dad, anyway) that I couldn't disappoint...
There has been drama, it's true, but that can wait until I'm home and don't have to worry about being on a public screen. There are, after all, people here who can read English, specifically certain boss-type people that I'd prefer weren't actually watching me criticize them. So keep happy, I'll catch up with y'all soon.