(Untitled)
Occasionally, I see other westerners walking about town. They aren't common though, perhaps I see one or two each day out of many many thousands. I am still having trouble accustoming myself to the uninvited attention I get when I'm out. Just looking the way I do, with blond hair and blue eyes, exceptionally long eyelashes and oddly white arm hair, attracts all sorts of attention from men and women alike. The women tend to stare a bit, then smile and giggle things to their friends in Korean... one of the many reasons I intend to pick up the language. The men just smile respectfully and often want to shake my hand for being western (especially if they know I'm Canadian). It is, in a small way, like being a celebrity, in the sense that no matter I go, people follow my with their eyes, and whisper to each other. Jordan's darker hair and eyes attract a bit less attention, which in most ways is a blessing.
As I was listening to some incredibly cheezy and melodramatic Korean pop music yesterday, I tried to summarize modern pop's basic plots, and I came up with eight main archetypes:
1. I wish we didn't break up (the most popular plot, certainly).
2. I'm glad we broke up.
3. I'm sorry for cheating, please take me back (related to #1)
4. We're not together yet, but we should be.
5. Nobody understands/is there for me.
6. Nobody understands me but 'you' (a.k.a. my boyfriend/girlfriend).
7. I'm really cool (usually these songs come with product placements in their videos).
Any others? I honestly think that's about it. And it makes sense; the minds of teens are typically preoccupied with sex and relationships on account of the hormones and whatnot, and of course equally preoccupied with the endless (alleged) life-shattering monthy or semi-annual breakups. My new friend Sean, a 39 year old self-described "80% wiccan, 20% non-specific pagan," is of the mind that monogamy on the whole is contrary to human nature, and that our veneration of sexual exclusivity is emotionally unhealthy. If you take all the marriages in North America, subtract the number that end in Divorce, as well as the number that continue in spite of continuous infidelity, you are left with a pitiful number that may well support Sean's belief. But I argue with him on the point, as I think the idea of multiple sexual partners amidst a single emotional partner is also contrary to human nature. But, to press the obvious thought home, perhaps we are suited to nothing in particular; there is no actual reason to believe the premise that humans by nature must be either monogamous or not monogamous.
I've been told that western literature is mostly comprised of three basic plot archetypes: comedy, tragedy, and irony. Comedy (romance) is about love, with the plot progressing to a climax of marriage or getting-together in some form. Tragedy is about heartbreak, anger, loss, and ultimately the death of the hero. Irony gathers elements from the others, and emphasizes the message that life is complex; that the real world is never simple and rarely dichotomistic in terms of good and evil, right and wrong, etc.
And then there's the epic... I don't know where it fits in, the ubiquitous story of the (usually male) hero in whom the world's fate lies. Hoo boy, if only real life were so nice, if I were that hero, and all I needed to do to save the world and get the girl was try really, really hard at whatever I needed to do. It's always (in the movies) a man v. self battle in the end, where the hero has to overcome a fear or injury or whatever. Baggins and Gamgee would have been doomed simply had a slightly-too-wide river stopped their path half way to Mordor, or had either of them accidentally stepped on a poisonous bug.
And indeed, literary events, expecially injuries and deaths, have a very special and intentional purpose, as though the universe was designed for the plot to take place and overseen by an intervening God.
Maybe that's why I like good horror films, for they emphasize the fragility of life, the state of utter cowering uselessness humans usually find themselves in when confronted with their real fears, and of course most importantly the unpoetic manners of our deaths.
------
Powell: I've always wondered exactly what was on the other side.
Dr. House: Nothing.
------
Something I think people underestimate is the extent of the difference between people who believe in 'life after death,' and people who do not. I find myself a tad bit scared of people who believe in the afterlife, and even more scared of people who use that belief to determine their actions here on Earth; such actions can range from useless to incredibly dangerous if one rejects the premise of the afterlife altogether, which I do.
What can one possibly say to a man who is willing to die (even to bring others to death with him) on the belief that his death will bring to him happiness, and to his victims justice? Every appeal I ever make to people regarding morality is predicated on the realities of pain, pleasure, harmony, and most importantly the finality of death.
Two days ago I saw a man fall off his bike on the sidewalk amid a crowd. I pushed past two or three people and extended a hand to help him up. He looked at me with utter confusion as he slowly untangled himself from his bike. It seems to be a tragic norm that people gawk at (or pretend to ignore) the injured, rather than help. My action wasn't merely unusual, it was mysterious.
Ah, I've lost my place in mind now; I'm not sure how to conclude.
Last night a few friends and I got far too drunk on soju (Korea's traditional fire water), and sung our throats hoarse at Kareoke room on our school's credit card (there are perks here). It was Jordan's birthday, and we made sure he got a good celebration.
Staggering home amid the lights and cars and sounds made me feel completely lost; it was a good feeling, oddly enough.
As I was listening to some incredibly cheezy and melodramatic Korean pop music yesterday, I tried to summarize modern pop's basic plots, and I came up with eight main archetypes:
1. I wish we didn't break up (the most popular plot, certainly).
2. I'm glad we broke up.
3. I'm sorry for cheating, please take me back (related to #1)
4. We're not together yet, but we should be.
5. Nobody understands/is there for me.
6. Nobody understands me but 'you' (a.k.a. my boyfriend/girlfriend).
7. I'm really cool (usually these songs come with product placements in their videos).
Any others? I honestly think that's about it. And it makes sense; the minds of teens are typically preoccupied with sex and relationships on account of the hormones and whatnot, and of course equally preoccupied with the endless (alleged) life-shattering monthy or semi-annual breakups. My new friend Sean, a 39 year old self-described "80% wiccan, 20% non-specific pagan," is of the mind that monogamy on the whole is contrary to human nature, and that our veneration of sexual exclusivity is emotionally unhealthy. If you take all the marriages in North America, subtract the number that end in Divorce, as well as the number that continue in spite of continuous infidelity, you are left with a pitiful number that may well support Sean's belief. But I argue with him on the point, as I think the idea of multiple sexual partners amidst a single emotional partner is also contrary to human nature. But, to press the obvious thought home, perhaps we are suited to nothing in particular; there is no actual reason to believe the premise that humans by nature must be either monogamous or not monogamous.
I've been told that western literature is mostly comprised of three basic plot archetypes: comedy, tragedy, and irony. Comedy (romance) is about love, with the plot progressing to a climax of marriage or getting-together in some form. Tragedy is about heartbreak, anger, loss, and ultimately the death of the hero. Irony gathers elements from the others, and emphasizes the message that life is complex; that the real world is never simple and rarely dichotomistic in terms of good and evil, right and wrong, etc.
And then there's the epic... I don't know where it fits in, the ubiquitous story of the (usually male) hero in whom the world's fate lies. Hoo boy, if only real life were so nice, if I were that hero, and all I needed to do to save the world and get the girl was try really, really hard at whatever I needed to do. It's always (in the movies) a man v. self battle in the end, where the hero has to overcome a fear or injury or whatever. Baggins and Gamgee would have been doomed simply had a slightly-too-wide river stopped their path half way to Mordor, or had either of them accidentally stepped on a poisonous bug.
And indeed, literary events, expecially injuries and deaths, have a very special and intentional purpose, as though the universe was designed for the plot to take place and overseen by an intervening God.
Maybe that's why I like good horror films, for they emphasize the fragility of life, the state of utter cowering uselessness humans usually find themselves in when confronted with their real fears, and of course most importantly the unpoetic manners of our deaths.
------
Powell: I've always wondered exactly what was on the other side.
Dr. House: Nothing.
------
Something I think people underestimate is the extent of the difference between people who believe in 'life after death,' and people who do not. I find myself a tad bit scared of people who believe in the afterlife, and even more scared of people who use that belief to determine their actions here on Earth; such actions can range from useless to incredibly dangerous if one rejects the premise of the afterlife altogether, which I do.
What can one possibly say to a man who is willing to die (even to bring others to death with him) on the belief that his death will bring to him happiness, and to his victims justice? Every appeal I ever make to people regarding morality is predicated on the realities of pain, pleasure, harmony, and most importantly the finality of death.
Two days ago I saw a man fall off his bike on the sidewalk amid a crowd. I pushed past two or three people and extended a hand to help him up. He looked at me with utter confusion as he slowly untangled himself from his bike. It seems to be a tragic norm that people gawk at (or pretend to ignore) the injured, rather than help. My action wasn't merely unusual, it was mysterious.
Ah, I've lost my place in mind now; I'm not sure how to conclude.
Last night a few friends and I got far too drunk on soju (Korea's traditional fire water), and sung our throats hoarse at Kareoke room on our school's credit card (there are perks here). It was Jordan's birthday, and we made sure he got a good celebration.
Staggering home amid the lights and cars and sounds made me feel completely lost; it was a good feeling, oddly enough.
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