So it looks like I'll be returning to Korea in two or three weeks. I'm reluctant for a number of reasons; namely, I've lived there before, it's not related to my career goals, and politically, the ROK has been disappointing lately. But rather then dwelling on reasons to hesitate, I'll post some goals for Korea Part Deux.
1) Save 20k for grad school. Aw yeah.
2) Fix my knee either by therapy or surgery.
3) Study for the GRE everyday and take it this fall.
4) Create and maintain as many correspondences as possible with professionals in the information science fields. (That's what I wanna study.)
5) Get all the documents ready for my application.
6) Go to therapy / a gym five days a week.
7) Pay for Korean or Mandarin lessons at an academy.
8) Visit Jeju-Do and the DMZ.
9) Treat myself to one of the following: lasik eye surgery, a digital SLR, or another trip to Japan.
10) Oh, and run the Seoul Marathon in the spring of 2010.
Hanguk it is.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
The Pull-Push Phenomenon
Toward the end of my stay in China, I recognized a trend among the expatriate crowd in Asia. Expats in Asia --for all their various nationalities, travels and experiences--can be broadly organized into two groups. Category One is characterized first by youth. These are the ambitious, adventurous lads who have recently graduated from a liberal arts college and have decided to exploit the demand for English teachers abroad. These folks, generally speaking, are interesting, perceptive, perhaps bohemian and often worldly. When stories are exchanged among foreigners, they tend to ask more questions than state opinions; they learn the local language for, if no other reason, to impress cute, submissive locals; they try to maintain respect and a healthy curiosity for the country in which they reside. In short, they are pulled from the motherland to Asia by its inherent mystery and exoticism.
And then there’s Category Two. As you might have guessed, Twosies are noticeably older than their younger counterparts, though not necessarily old or middle-aged. Since their graduation a decade ago or more, they have remained in Asia teaching English. You’ll notice immediately how knowledgeable they are as they expound stories at great length and condescension to folks in Category One. Twosies are often jaded; they criticize local customs and admonish other expats for condoning them. Their personalities range to slightly discomforting to borderline sociopathic. When you see them verbally assaulting Asians in the native tongue for some trivial misunderstanding, you all at once realize that there had to be something wrong with them to keep them here so long. It occurs to you that they may have not belonged wherever they came from, and indeed they felt pushed to Asia by some inability to function normally at home.
‘Course, there are enough expats straddling the two categories to suggest that it isn’t as clear-cut as I would make it seem. Social awkwardness and years spent working abroad, however, are correlative enough to imply that perhaps it is actually the time spent overseas that is psychologically degenerative. It’s difficult to say without taking one’s personal history into account.
So here’s mine. I spent two years living in Asia. I’m 25, passing out of the “recent college graduate” phase to “yeah, I have a degree” phase. I went to Korea back in 2006 excited as a Category One could be. I came home from China last March thinking I would find entry-level work relevant to my degree and pursue a graduate program in the following year. What I quickly understood though, is that I am not marketable to decent labor. I’ve had a vague, idealistic idea of the career I want, I’ve been living in my parents’ home in a remote village near the Canadian border, and over the last two months of job searching, all I’ve managed to secure is another teaching job in Korea.
I need money and purpose just like the next bloke, but Korea again? No other country pays nearly as well for its foreign teachers whom lack certification. Yet I am reluctant to relive an experience. I only have so much time on this earth, and I shouldn’t be doing work that isn’t what I hope to do ten years from now, right? Right. I’m 25, encroaching 26, and the threat of swirling down the quagmire of Category Two looms. The hour is late to rethink my decision. My sanity wanes. Here I go, again.
And then there’s Category Two. As you might have guessed, Twosies are noticeably older than their younger counterparts, though not necessarily old or middle-aged. Since their graduation a decade ago or more, they have remained in Asia teaching English. You’ll notice immediately how knowledgeable they are as they expound stories at great length and condescension to folks in Category One. Twosies are often jaded; they criticize local customs and admonish other expats for condoning them. Their personalities range to slightly discomforting to borderline sociopathic. When you see them verbally assaulting Asians in the native tongue for some trivial misunderstanding, you all at once realize that there had to be something wrong with them to keep them here so long. It occurs to you that they may have not belonged wherever they came from, and indeed they felt pushed to Asia by some inability to function normally at home.
‘Course, there are enough expats straddling the two categories to suggest that it isn’t as clear-cut as I would make it seem. Social awkwardness and years spent working abroad, however, are correlative enough to imply that perhaps it is actually the time spent overseas that is psychologically degenerative. It’s difficult to say without taking one’s personal history into account.
So here’s mine. I spent two years living in Asia. I’m 25, passing out of the “recent college graduate” phase to “yeah, I have a degree” phase. I went to Korea back in 2006 excited as a Category One could be. I came home from China last March thinking I would find entry-level work relevant to my degree and pursue a graduate program in the following year. What I quickly understood though, is that I am not marketable to decent labor. I’ve had a vague, idealistic idea of the career I want, I’ve been living in my parents’ home in a remote village near the Canadian border, and over the last two months of job searching, all I’ve managed to secure is another teaching job in Korea.
I need money and purpose just like the next bloke, but Korea again? No other country pays nearly as well for its foreign teachers whom lack certification. Yet I am reluctant to relive an experience. I only have so much time on this earth, and I shouldn’t be doing work that isn’t what I hope to do ten years from now, right? Right. I’m 25, encroaching 26, and the threat of swirling down the quagmire of Category Two looms. The hour is late to rethink my decision. My sanity wanes. Here I go, again.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Keeping the Faith, Losing the Religion
So, lately conservative pundits have been calling Obama's faith into question, saying that he hasn't attended church often enough and that his policies go against the bible. This comes to me as a breath of fresh air; for the first time in eight years, we have a leader that's keeping his faith to himself and letting reason and justice dictate his actions. Whereas Bush was overt in his spiritual beliefs, Obama has displayed his faith occasionally and diplomatically, like when he appointed Rick Warren to give a prayer at his inauguration. He's using his faith calculatedly.
It reminded me of American Theocracy and Religulous. Both emphatically declare the real threat that religions poses.
Kevin Phillipps's American Theocracy is a meticulous description of the rise of southern Christian fundamentalism from the pre-Civil War era to the forefront of contemporary politics. Among Phillips's scathing criticisms of the Bush administration is the idea that prophetic religion, or a doomsday mentality, has become a major influence of foreign and domestic policy.
It isn't anything new of course. Bill Maher painted a very dismal and silly portrait of religion in Religulous. Maher interviews a parade of religious figures, from evangelists to rabbis, and even mentions my old buddy, Reverend Robert Tilton. For the most part, Maher simply tries to make religious people look, well, ridiculous, and to that end he succeeds. At the end of the film though, his comical jabs crystallize into a poignant denunciation and caveat against religion. My favorite part:
"Religion is dangerous because it allows human beings who don't have all the answers to think that they do. Most people would think it's wonderful when someone says, "I'm willing, Lord! I'll do whatever you want me to do!" Except that since there are no gods actually talking to us, that void is filled in by people with their own corruptions and limitations and agendas."
That's it, really. In the last ten years, I've gone from Methodist to lukewarm, to agnostic, to secular, to antireligion. I will always have my faith in a deity because it was ingrained into me as a boy, but my faith in religion is fading fast.
It reminded me of American Theocracy and Religulous. Both emphatically declare the real threat that religions poses.
Kevin Phillipps's American Theocracy is a meticulous description of the rise of southern Christian fundamentalism from the pre-Civil War era to the forefront of contemporary politics. Among Phillips's scathing criticisms of the Bush administration is the idea that prophetic religion, or a doomsday mentality, has become a major influence of foreign and domestic policy.
It isn't anything new of course. Bill Maher painted a very dismal and silly portrait of religion in Religulous. Maher interviews a parade of religious figures, from evangelists to rabbis, and even mentions my old buddy, Reverend Robert Tilton. For the most part, Maher simply tries to make religious people look, well, ridiculous, and to that end he succeeds. At the end of the film though, his comical jabs crystallize into a poignant denunciation and caveat against religion. My favorite part:
"Religion is dangerous because it allows human beings who don't have all the answers to think that they do. Most people would think it's wonderful when someone says, "I'm willing, Lord! I'll do whatever you want me to do!" Except that since there are no gods actually talking to us, that void is filled in by people with their own corruptions and limitations and agendas."
That's it, really. In the last ten years, I've gone from Methodist to lukewarm, to agnostic, to secular, to antireligion. I will always have my faith in a deity because it was ingrained into me as a boy, but my faith in religion is fading fast.
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