Oh my god, typing in Korean is so hard. Also, I bet I spelled that wrong. This language hates the shit out of me.
Anyway! So, update time, internet world. Right now, I am studying vocabulary words for my 10th vocabulary quiz in korean (roughly two per week, oy vey), after having finished about half the class (and about 1/100th of the homework). This week, on the menu are words such as "eye" and "gloves", and verbs or verb-like adjectives like "to be warm" and "to congratulate". Did you know that in this language, adjectives conjugate like verbs do, but for some reason aren't verbs and therefore seperate grammatical rules apply to them? Shoot me, please, I beg you.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Monday, July 7, 2008
The tide's always turning.
After two and a half weeks of enjoyable society back in the ol' US of A, the universe conspired to fill my life with suck today. As if being $63 in the hole on my bank account for a week wasn't enough brutal enough. Thanks life, no really, I can't get enough of this shit.
First, I spent nearly 3 hours on the bus today, going from one side of this overly-wide city to the other. The return leg of the trip was particularly bad, as the bus was more crammed full than I have ever seen it. Almost "last train out of Shibuya" bad, and that is not an image I invoke lightly. Next to me for much of the trip was an elderly drunk man, who had waited at the same stop as I had. Before getting on the bus, he asked me what bus was coming, what city were we in, and if I knew of any rehab facilities in the area. On the bus, a sharp turn caused the giant can of Foster's hidden in his pocket to spill out on the feet of the people around him. A small amount of that beer landed on the top of my foot.
Behind me was a man who could not stop singing to himself, R&B style but without any discernable lyrics. Occasionally, he'd give the singing a break in order to proclaim on how full the bus was. A girl near him had been unlucky enough to secure his focus as well, and he asked her if she and her friends were going out to a club tonight. He would be at the club, til closing. On his neck was a tattoo that read "Scheezy".
I did not stab the man with the tattoo that read "Scheezy", but I wanted to.
The bus ride might not have been so bad if I had had a nice afternoon before it, but that was not the case. Instead I had spent 3 hours eating a friend's party food and realizing that I strongly disliked everyone at the party except the host. BDSM professionals and their boyfriends, it turns out, are just the kids from high school who shopped at hot topic and tongue-kissed backstage during drama class, plus seven or eight years. And I don't have much to add to conversations about corset colors or "what happened at the dungeon last night".
IMPORTANT NOTE: Things I never want to see, #1: Bruises on your ass, from your boyfriend spanking you the night before. Everyone I know or will ever know, please take note of this.
Once I got home, I tried to take a nap, but was kept awake by two people in a neighboring apartment. A father and son, to be exact, who were arguing and belittling each other over a video game. The son sounded like he's about 8 years old. Once, I heard the father tell the kid that he was "terrible" at the video game, because the father was winning and it was the first time he had played. Yes, that actually happened. Is that enough evidence for me to call in Child Services?
Now it is late and the day is a waste. My Korean homework is unfinished, my nails are unpainted, and I am out of lemonade. The rest of the weekend was lovely, but all that will have to wait for another day.
First, I spent nearly 3 hours on the bus today, going from one side of this overly-wide city to the other. The return leg of the trip was particularly bad, as the bus was more crammed full than I have ever seen it. Almost "last train out of Shibuya" bad, and that is not an image I invoke lightly. Next to me for much of the trip was an elderly drunk man, who had waited at the same stop as I had. Before getting on the bus, he asked me what bus was coming, what city were we in, and if I knew of any rehab facilities in the area. On the bus, a sharp turn caused the giant can of Foster's hidden in his pocket to spill out on the feet of the people around him. A small amount of that beer landed on the top of my foot.
Behind me was a man who could not stop singing to himself, R&B style but without any discernable lyrics. Occasionally, he'd give the singing a break in order to proclaim on how full the bus was. A girl near him had been unlucky enough to secure his focus as well, and he asked her if she and her friends were going out to a club tonight. He would be at the club, til closing. On his neck was a tattoo that read "Scheezy".
I did not stab the man with the tattoo that read "Scheezy", but I wanted to.
The bus ride might not have been so bad if I had had a nice afternoon before it, but that was not the case. Instead I had spent 3 hours eating a friend's party food and realizing that I strongly disliked everyone at the party except the host. BDSM professionals and their boyfriends, it turns out, are just the kids from high school who shopped at hot topic and tongue-kissed backstage during drama class, plus seven or eight years. And I don't have much to add to conversations about corset colors or "what happened at the dungeon last night".
IMPORTANT NOTE: Things I never want to see, #1: Bruises on your ass, from your boyfriend spanking you the night before. Everyone I know or will ever know, please take note of this.
Once I got home, I tried to take a nap, but was kept awake by two people in a neighboring apartment. A father and son, to be exact, who were arguing and belittling each other over a video game. The son sounded like he's about 8 years old. Once, I heard the father tell the kid that he was "terrible" at the video game, because the father was winning and it was the first time he had played. Yes, that actually happened. Is that enough evidence for me to call in Child Services?
Now it is late and the day is a waste. My Korean homework is unfinished, my nails are unpainted, and I am out of lemonade. The rest of the weekend was lovely, but all that will have to wait for another day.
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