The way she taught me.

One of my earliest memories of my grandmother involves prayer. And, it's indicative of how she would go on to teach me for the rest of her life.

It's simple, really. One weekend, my grandmother had come to stay with us. Usually, when she was in the States, she lived far away in Olympia with her brother, Hubert. When she didn't live with him, she was often halfway around the world, in the Philippines, at the orphanage she was building. That weekend, she must have been planning on speaking at some churches in our area, and that was probably why she'd come to stay with us. On Saturday morning, I woke up especially early to a noise coming from our living room, the room we never went in, unless we had guests. I found my grandmother there, on her knees, with her hands clasped in front of her, praying. She asked me if I wanted to join her and, to be polite, I joined her on my knees. I was asleep within minutes, I'm sure. I can't remember the rest of the story, I can only remember the sight of my grandmother's silhouette in the just-happening morning light, the sound of her whispered prayers, the pain it brought to my knees, just to look at her.

I was young then. Not older than seven years old, and that was the way she taught me; by showing.

the art of memory: a short post

I don’t typically work early morning shifts, but I’m covering for another barista today because, well, even most baristas would rather not work on December 26th. Catching the 522 bus at 4:55A.M isn’t necessarily what I would call “fun” but the upside is that now I work for a coffee house where I can make and consume all the espresso I want. And, it’s quiet here. I can turn on Edith Piaf or Emiliana Torrini and read Lewis or Lee; or, I can skype with Korea. That’s what I did this early this morning while most of Seattle was still asleep and the Christmas lights on 6th Avenue were still shinning in the black, I skyped with my friend Michelle. I even made her a latte. A long distance latte, which I consequently had to consume myself. 

Later today, I’ll meet up with J. Fast at The Crumpet Shop in Pikeplace. The only complaint I have about today is that I’ve somehow left my analogue camera at my other coffee house and I’m without even my little digital. Maybe, hopefully, I’ll have time to pick up my camera later, but if not, I’ll make use of the one thing my fathertried 
to teach me: 

the art of memory.

All space and time are too little for Him to utter Himself in them once.

I've recently rekindled my love for C.S. Lewis. While I was sitting on the bus on the way to work recently, I read the following from Letters to Malcolm and it really touched me. I thought it was worth sharing. 

It seems to me that we often, almost sulkiley, reject the good that God offers us because, at the moment, we expected some other good. Do you know what I mean? On  every level of our life- in our religious experienc, in our gastronomic, erotic, aesthetic, and social experience- we are always harking back to some occasion which seemed to us to reach perfection, setting that up as a norm, and depricating all other occcasions by comparison. But these other occasions, I now suspect, are often full of their own new blessing, if only we would lay ourselfs open to it. God shows us a new facet of the glory, and we refuse to look at it because we're still looking for the old one. And of coruse we don't get that. You can't, at the twentieth reading, get again the experience of reading Lycidas for the first time. But what you do get can be in it's own way as good.

This applies especially to the devotional life. Many religious people lament that the first fervours of their conversion have died away. They think- sometimes rightly, but not, I believe, always- that their sins account for this. They may even try by pitiful efforts of will to revive what now seem to have been the golden days. But were those fervours- the perative word is those- ever intended to last?

It would be rash to say that there is any prayer which God never grants. But the strongest canidate is the prayer we might express in the single word encore. And how should the Infinite repeat Himself? All space and time are too little for Him to utter Himself in them once. 

And the joke, or tragedy, of it all is that these golden moments in the past, which are so tormenting if we erect them into a norm, are entirely nourishing, wholesome, and enchanting if we are contenct to accept them for what they are, for memories. Properly bedded down ina  past which we do not mersably try to conjure back, they will send up exquistie growths. Leave the blubs alone, and the new flowers will come up....

North Korea.

(Copied from my tumblr.

On facebook, I follow this guy named Shin Dong-hyuk. He’s famous for having escaped from the North Korean prison camp where he was born. His story is tragic and heartbreaking. He often tours with the memoir he wrote about his escape and his time in a North Korean camp. I have not yet read his book, but I’ve watched a few documentaries  on him and his life. 

Today, North Korea launched a long-distance missile over Okinawa. They say it was part of a “space program” but everyone, including Japan and South Korea, are saying it was nothing of the sort. Mr. Dong-hyuk has been on facebook today and he is sort of freaking out. Nobody can blame him for that because his heart is in North Korea. Nobody has seen the inside like he has. Nobody knows how bad it is like he does.

I’ve been shocked and surprised at some of the responses I’ve seen to Mr. Dong-hyuk on facebook. He posted a status earlier that said “Crazy NK dictator. I am so very much angry”  and in response, somebody said to him “Care to discuss? We are your friends and we are here for you. But you must admit, this is a proud moment for Korean people everywhere!” What is even more surprising, is that this comment seems to be coming from an ex-pat living in South Korea.

How could anyone think what is going on in North Korea is something to be proud of? And, if this person is a follower of Mr. Dong-hyuk, how could they be so insensitive as to not see the situation from his point of view? AND WHY WOULD AN EX-PAT THINK HE COULD INCLUDE NORTH and SOUTH KOREANS INTO THE SAME GROUP? They are not the same. They once were, but they’re quite different. Ignorance makes me really upset. 

Mr. Dong-hyuk posted another status, “NK one missiles to $ 1.3 billion/ Crazy crazy crazy/ North Korean citizens starve to death.” And in response, somebody commented “I don’t mean to disturb you, but even America, to a degree, is like this.”

I know America spends a ridiculous amount of money on things it doesn’t need. But we’re not launching military missiles over Canada in the guise of a space program while most of our people are starving to death. What’s going on inside of North Korea is nothing short of genocide and to compare that to what is happening in America, that’s ignorance, too. 

The problem is that the majority of people don’t really know what is happening in North Korea. We don’t see it. Maybe because we’re not looking. Maybe because those of us who DO see it, we don’t want to muddle up the facebook feeds of our friends by posting depressing, doomsday posts about North Korea. That doesn’t fit with the holiday atmosphere. I know I don’t really like it when people get political. I can’t imagine that my friends want me to be reminding them of all the terrible atrocities happening in North Korea. 

But if I don’t do it. Who will? The news? No. We’re talking about the fiscal cliff on American news. 

I love Shin Dong-hyuk’s posts. Other things he said recently include “North Korea missile launch. Idiots” and “Forgiveness? Too tough words.” I love his posts because he’s an ESL learner. An adult learner at that, because, as you can imagine, they don’t teach English in North Korean prison camps. I love how his simple use of words conveys so much emotion. That’s part of what I’ve always loved about tutoring and helping ESL students, they don’t have many words, but they always use them beautifully. I love his posts because he has hope, heart, and anger about what’s going on in North Korea. I think he’s a light. An ambassader. 

I’m worried about my generation. I’m worried about the fact that we’re ignoring what is going on in other parts of the world. What is happening right now in North Korea isn’t any different from what happened in Nazi Germany. The difference is what? The fact that the problem seems to be contained to small country in Asia? Is it really political? Is that why the UN continues to let North Korea do as they please? I read somewhere that maybe the powers of the UN let North Korea continue to be a threat, because with their threatening presence, we Westerners have a reason to have a huge military presence in South Korea and Japan. Without that threat, our presence would become increasingly unwelcome. Is that it? Are we letting people starve to death because of politics? Is that the country I live in? And the starving to death, that’s just the beginning. Brutal, brutal things go on every day in North Korean prison camps. Things too dark for tumblr. 

I grew up reading about the famine that wreaked havoc in North Korea in the 1990’s. I remember the pictures, they made an indelible impression in my mind. Around that time is when I first became really interested in documentary photography. Although I love photography as art, I think the camera is most powerful when it’s telling a story, especially if that story is for a person who can’t speak for themselves. Documenting the tragedy in North Korea is one of my oldest, most deeply rooted ideas. (I can’t say “desire” or “dream” here, because it isn’t like that. Those are the wrong words).  I don’t know if I’ll ever do it, or if I even want to do it, but it’s still there, in my mind. America needs to know what’s really going on in North Korea. We can’t use ignorance as an excuse anymore. Not when the information is right there, on our facebook feeds. We’re not sitting idle because of a lack of information. We’re doing it because we’ve turned our faces away from what is going on in North Korea and there’s nothing more shameful than that. 

I don’t know what to do. I feel completely helpless when it comes to these things. But for Shin Dong-hyuk, for all the millions of others still prisoned in North Korea, I do the only thing I really know how to do: I pray. For now, that isn’t a cop out  and it isn’t cliche and it isn’t being lazy. North Korea is closed to private citizens like me. I can’t go there now. And until I can, the only thing, the best thing I can do, is pray. 

-Tasha Swinney, 12/12/2012. 

7 myths I believed as a kid

7.) This solid Palmer Easter Bunny is much better than any of those prettier, hallow Easter Bunnies because it's, well, solid and mom says it will take me longer to eat it.

Right. No. Not exactly. I'm pretty sure all those hydrogenated oils from the Palmer candy I ate as a kid are still inside of me...

6.) When kids grow up, boys have to get jobs and go to work and girls stay home and take care of the babies and sometimes, just sometimes, a girl will get a job, like being an Elementary school teacher. But that's o.k. because jobs are never fun...

Thank you, 90's. 

5.) Kids like pizza but adults don't really like pizza, they mostly like salads.

I still love pizza as much as I did when I was 7.

4.) The grown-up world is organized and, well, orderly. Grown-ups have a handle on what is going on, and that seems nice because the kid-world sometimes seems a little chaotic.

It's the other way around.

3.) College is impossible. Only really, really, really smart people go to college and it's probably all math and I wouldn't like it anyways.

I honestly thought this. 

2.) It's rare that a kid grows up and gets to do what they really want, like acting/writing/painting/being an astronaut, ect. Mostly, only a few really special people get to do that.

1.) Grown-ups don't have adventures.

conversations with clothes

The other night, I was digging in my closet for something I'd lost, when I heard a somewhat forced sounding cough coming from somewhere in the back. It was my sweater dress.

"Ahem," said the sweater dress.

"Can I do something for you?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"I was just hoping for a status update," said the sweater dress.

"A status update? I updated my status this morning," I said.

"I'm not talking about facebook," said the sweater dress.

"Well, what then?" I said.

"I was told we were going to Korea. I was wondering about the departure date," said the sweater dress.

"Oh, are you in some sort of time-contraint? I didn't know that sweater dresses had time-contraints," I said.

"I don't. I'm actually rather timeless, despite what some might say... why are you smirking?" said the sweater dress.

"No reason," I said.

"Alright, well, I'd just like to know how long you want me to wait. Some of the clothes in here say they were purchased in August and they've yet to see the inside of a suitcase," said the sweater dress.

"Do you guys talk about me when I'm not here?" I asked.

"Not exactly, but still, we'd like to know. We were told we were going to teach English," said the sweater dress.

"I think I'm the one who will be doing the teaching," I said.

"You know what I mean," said the sweater dress.

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but it might take some time," I said.

"I'm afraid I don't quite get your meaning," said the sweater dress. "I mean, I understand that there have been hiccups in the plan, but I believe you had two hopeful interviews last week, and a job offer with a rural school, what happened?" she asked, rather condescendingly.

"Sweater dress, did you really WANT to live in rural Korea?" I said.

"Not exactly. Did you?" asked the sweater dress.

"I don't think I would have minded. I think the idea of being near a tea plantation is rather romantic," I said.

"So what was the problem?" asked the sweater dress.

"The job felt rather rushed and a little desperate and I've been told that desperate isn't a good colour on anyone," I said.

"I wouldn't know anything about that," said the sweater dress.

"I'm sure you wouldn't," I said. "Anyways, I would not have had the time to tie up loose ends around here. It would have meant a total rush to take that job. And, I was thinking of you, sweater dress. I was afraid you would have felt out of place in a rural, nameless village in Korea," I said.

"Well, that's very kind of you. But I'd still really like to go to Asia and I'd really like to be worn," said the sweater dress.

"Well, so would I," I said.

"You'd like to be worn?" she asked.

"You know what I mean," I said.

"I think I do" she said. "But what are you going to do now? When are you going to wear me?" asked the sweater dress.

"I could wear you to metropolitan market while I make coffee," I offered.

"No, thank you," said the sweater dress.

"Well. I'll be teaching eventually. I'm going to apply to JET, you remember Japan, don't you? That was the original plan, anyways, and the application process begins in October. It seems silly to rule out JET when I never applied to it the first place and October is right around the corner and..."

"What a perfect month. So blustery, so windy, perfect for..."

"You're interrupting me," I said. "Anyhow, if I don't get an interview with JET, I'll apply to be in Korea in February, that's the main hiring season for Korean schools anyways and there's likely to be more options available and it should be less stressful. Who knows, we might even get to PICK our city, wouldn't that be nice, sweater dress? Wouldn't you like to go somewhere metropolitan and sophisticated?" I asked.

"I'd like to go to Sapporo," said the sweater dress.

"That isn't in Korea," I said.

"Do you expect me to know geography now?" asked the sweater dress.

"I suppose not," I said. "Anyways, while we're at it, I'd really like to take the trans-siberian," I said.

"Now that would be nice," said the sweater dress. "And wouldn't it be lovely if you wore me in Red Square and we walked right up to Saint Basil's?" sighed the sweater dress.

"I thought you didn't know geography," I said.

"Did you forget about putting the Russian literature box in the closet right under me?" asked the sweater dress.

"I suppose I did," I said. "Anyhow, Moscow would be lovely, and don't think I don't plan on it," I said.

"But what about the meantime? Am I just going to NOT be worn all winter? I've noticed you favour the threadless shirts. God only knows why," said the sweater dress.

"Meantime. Such an interesting word," I said.

"Stop being philosophical," said the sweater dress.

"I'm going to study for and take the GRE in the meantime, sweater dress," I said. "I could wear you while I sit in the Snohmish Starbucks and study for it. How do you like the sound of that?" I asked.

"Well, it does sound quite nearly high-brow. Will S.K be there?" asked the sweater dress.

"I rather think she might," I said.

"Then I'm in," said the sweater dress.

"Thank goodness," I said.

"But seriously, other than that, are you just going to leave me hanging?" said the sweater dress.

"Sweater dress, that was a little low," I said.

"I know," said the sweater dress.

"Besides," I said. "I wouldn't want to make promises I don't intend on keeping, that would be like pulling the wool over your eyes," I said.

And then I turned off the light, and closed the door.

sweater dress ambivalence

The sweater dress w/tag still on it. When I find matching tights, maybe I'll post a real picture. If I don't return it first.

Let me paint a picture for you.

My bed isn't made but clean sheets are sitting at the foot of it, waiting. There are empty water glasses on the dresser and a half-full coffee cup on the nightstand. Boxes are strewn everywhere, some are filled with books and meticulously sorted and labeled by genre. For example, one Fat Tire Amber Ale box with a vintage bicycle printed on it is filled with children's literature, while another empty Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout box is waiting to be filled with Russian literature, it's tipped over on it's side on my study futon. New teaching clothes with the tags still on them are hanging on the armoire, papers are everywhere.

I'm standing in the middle of the chaos in front of a giant mirror propped up on an old Army trunk and I'm wearing a new sweater dress with the tags still on it and I'm thinking the following things:

1.) Jessie and Kaitlyn would both be upset if they knew what I was wearing right now, but Korea is supposed to be cold with no central heating! 

2.) Will I ever become a teacher? How many times will Korea change her mind?

3.) Should I have bought the orange sweater dress that made me look like Velma instead of this one?

4.) At least, if I stay in Seattle, I get to hang out with Sarah Karnes.

5.) I like the pleated shoulders on this dress, but, I wish it was green.

6.) I want to get rid of everything I own.

7.) I am going to miss my stuff if I ever go overseas.

8.) So, this is what wearing teacher's clothes feels like?

9.) I wonder if I'm doing the right thing.

10.) I wonder if I'm doing the right thing.

11.) I wonder if I'm doing the right thing.

12.) I wonder if I'll ever actually get to Korea.

In my defense, I went into the discount department store looking for a thick winter coat a few days ago because everyone keeps touting the tales of frigid Korean winters and my peacoat is slightly threadbare from 6 years of use. But the store didn't have coats. They did, however, have sweater dresses of every colour and pattern. I could not help myself.

Last week, I was offered a job with a private Korean school and I accepted it and started to get really, pretty excited. On friday, I paid lots of good money to send all my documents to Korea to start the visa process. I only told a few people and announced nothing on facebook because I figured, you don't really know until you're there.

Last night I was watching Spirited Away when I got an email from my recruiter saying that the school cannot hire me anymore because of "financial problems." I cannot really convey to you how I've felt the last 36 hours.

Korea. You are more fickle than Seattle's summer sunshine. You're like a middle school romance.

This afternoon, I stood in my closet, seriously considering taking back some clothes that still have the tags on them. Teacher's clothes. Clothes that might be out of season before they see the light.

Right now, I'm ambivalent about everything, including that sweater dress, despite the fact that my mother says I look good in it.