As with most people, for most of my life, I've been told what to do. "Be a doctor," my mother used to dispense in an effort to direct my creative energies toward something that might help others, in her own mind. "Think more about others," was usually the whimper of those who, selfishly, wanted me to take care of their problems for them. Saddled with backpacks full of what I "should be" or "had potential of being" time passed. I got used to hearing it, tuned it out, and focused on who I knew I was and wanted/needed to be.
This continued throughout college where I encountered professors who thought they could "fix me". A project to be started and left on the table in the garage while other things took their time. Then, I graduated. I left school and started working. The whole time my heart swelled with a desire to write. I would give myself an hour during lunch or a few minutes here and there to get an idea out, write about my situation, or write a story. It kept me grounded in the reality of David instead of the half-formed and misunderstood world others created for me. It was bliss.
Now, we're in Korea again. I'm sitting at a computer in the teachers room of the "best school in Gangam", being watched by my bosses. A couple, though not 'together', who have found something broken in me, or more likely a fissure in themselves, that must be filled. A disorganized man that only they can repair in their own baffling self image. It sounds childish on both ends, and it is, but that does seem to be the situation.
I've been pulled aside several times and told that I haven't lived up to their expectations. That I was asked to teach the classes whose English was the most advance because I was "intelligent" and had "taught in Korea before". There was doubt in their voice as they said this. As if they weren't quite sure the guilt soaked words pouring forth were even real. Then, they would repeat these things as if I had disappointed them. Like parents angry with a child for not following the rules they hadn't bothered to outline.
As punishment, I have to write lesson plans for all my classes. This may not sound like a difficult task, and generally it wouldn't be, if not for the mountain of other work I am asked to take care of. I grade tests and quizes, star and correct sentences and homework, read through and correct paragraphs and essays, create new syllabi, decorate the classroom, and teach classes. Usually I stay at the school past 7 pm, making nearly all days either 10 or 11 hours each. I sneeze and have blown my nose for the last three weeks straight with little to no time to think about improving my health. I'm beholden to the work. Their little man who is their same age but under them in the hierarchy of the school system and therefore, less important and capable of handling simple tasks. They "remind me" not to do things I have never done. They speak passive aggressively, their accusatory rhetoric used like a scalpel to remove layer upon layer of my own personality in favor of their own skin grafts.
This reads dramatic. A disproportional retelling of things that I am blowing out of proportion. However, they're things I've been told by others. That I'm not "acting like myself". And it's true, I'm not. No hour spent getting thoughts down on a page, no time to heal or think about ideas or health. Just school.
My bosses talked about another teacher, now the soon-to-be head teacher and the stress he dealt with in his first few months. I thought about him as they spoke - his passive demeanor, the way his chin rested between atrophied pecks when they spoke - and considered that these comments were made as a way of grooming me. That, perhaps, they thought I would make a good head teacher someday. The thought has brought me back to a blog I haven't written in in four years.
Tuesday, April 03, 2012
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
Today
The man stumbled into the road. His face contained none of the warmth of a drunk business man but all of the brow's surprise. Those of us standing on the other side of the street started and stopped, expecting him to have seen the light change whereas the rest of us, busy with our cellphone television shows and thoughts, hadn't. I looked up from the text I was constructing to the sound of a green, crosstown bus and him stopping, lined up upon the crosswalk, directly in front of the double yellow. The bus accelerated and stopped a few times as we had a the cross.
He stood there. There was something mumbled and he slapped himself on the face, hard, as if accepting wrong doing. Like his standing in traffic, as cars moved all around and the bus turning toward him, was his penance for something unseen or unknown.
Then, the light did change at the four-way stop, the green man lit up, and we didn't let up on the accelerator. He reached out to me as I passed him, like he was confused, asking for directions or an alien new to our world. I kept going. His gaze followed me until I crossed his shoulders and he turned to face forward again.
The crowd said nothing. As if fully aware of the man's dilemma but prevented by cultural or social stigma to say or do anything.
Across the street and obstructed by the tunnel entrance I couldn't see if he had moved until I moved again and he hadn't. His knees were still bent at 90 degree angles, like preparing for an impact, and his hips locked.
* * *
Lined up along the street were three police buses with tinted windows and no drivers. As if the warden of the prison had decreed that today was "enjoy yourself day". Prisoners were allowed to walk among us, enter Lotte World to buy presents for their families or decorations for their cells, and ride the rides at the indoor amusement park. A large advertisement on the middle bus displayed seven police officers, sitting on a picnic blanket with two children taking pleasure in the day.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
"I'm totally blogging this..."
So, after an argument with Lindsay I've promised not to post the following comments on the AsburySafetyZone's retarded jamboree. I'll be posting a shorter one that doesn't mention her at all. You should all ridicule her for her insolence.
"Asbury is less than a mile long and lined with cars that force drivers to slow down to allow others to pass. The environment isn't indicative of an unsafe situation. My wife walks down Asbury to work nearly every day, so your erroneous comments about not knowing the area are just that. Snide remarks and accusative rhetoric haven't helped your cause, just made you look bad.
"Now, I'm not saying that traffic safety isn't important. I am, however, saying that there are far more important and pressing things to do than the purchasing of a web domain, using iWeb to create a page with a pig on it, setting up a blogger page with one post on it, and spending money on signs, most of which don't make any sense.
"I've also noticed that these signs have been removed from the lawns between curb and sidewalk, making them even less noticeable by passersby and, thus, utterly pointless. However, if these have been stolen, I rescind this past remark.
"As I said, traffic safety is a serious issue, and I hope and pray that no children have been hurt by speeding motorists on Asbury. But at this point, it seems as though folks with way too much time on their hands are piddling about instead of doing something meaningful for the community outside their own street. The streets of Evanston, incredibly not Asbury, are in a state of disrepair. Perhaps using your clout and boasted mayoral connections to raise awareness that bicyclists and cars alike have damaged their tires and each other in an effort to dodge these sometimes 10 feet wide holes. This, to me, seems like a far more important use of time and effort."
"Asbury is less than a mile long and lined with cars that force drivers to slow down to allow others to pass. The environment isn't indicative of an unsafe situation. My wife walks down Asbury to work nearly every day, so your erroneous comments about not knowing the area are just that. Snide remarks and accusative rhetoric haven't helped your cause, just made you look bad.
"Now, I'm not saying that traffic safety isn't important. I am, however, saying that there are far more important and pressing things to do than the purchasing of a web domain, using iWeb to create a page with a pig on it, setting up a blogger page with one post on it, and spending money on signs, most of which don't make any sense.
"I've also noticed that these signs have been removed from the lawns between curb and sidewalk, making them even less noticeable by passersby and, thus, utterly pointless. However, if these have been stolen, I rescind this past remark.
"As I said, traffic safety is a serious issue, and I hope and pray that no children have been hurt by speeding motorists on Asbury. But at this point, it seems as though folks with way too much time on their hands are piddling about instead of doing something meaningful for the community outside their own street. The streets of Evanston, incredibly not Asbury, are in a state of disrepair. Perhaps using your clout and boasted mayoral connections to raise awareness that bicyclists and cars alike have damaged their tires and each other in an effort to dodge these sometimes 10 feet wide holes. This, to me, seems like a far more important use of time and effort."
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Notes on the rewatching of President Obama's Inaugural Speech
I decided to rewatch the inaugural address this morning, after nearly a week, in hopes that I could glean more from that fifteen minutes. Here are my notes. Also, at the bottom, you'll find the video, brought to you by Hulu and Fox News.
"My fellow citizens..." - He connects himself with the people. Makes himself less of a "rockstar" or "god" to being on pare with everyone.
Use of scripture - "...it is time to set aside childish things."
Reframing of commonly used and exhausted adages - racial unity, freedom, equality.
Remembering and taking pride in the past. Briefly remembering victories and learning from failures?
Get off your butt, stop complaining that it's too hard or not possible, and get back to work/the progress of this nation.
Necessary change, evolution, and development to meet requirements of the future. "All this we can do; all this we will do."
We must do our duties and jobs, each and every one of us, to ensure the progress of our nature. To continue to evolve and grow and be an example.
We must lead the world, be an example of justice, unity, freedom, and prosperity. (Be part of the world?)
It seems as though he's suggesting that we evolve our thought and actions from what we did in Iraq (invade, take over, rearrange, attempt to free the people, but never actually give them the ability to self govern or self rule) to what we must do in Afghanistan (assist the people to rise up against the oppressors and forge, for themselves, the country they deserve). "...and forge a hard earned peace in Afghanistan."
"We will not apologize for our way of life, nor will we waver in its defense..."
"We know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness..."
Emphasis on "non-believers". First president to recognize this, growing population in an effort, presumably, to bind us together again regardless of belief and/or faith.
Addresses the Muslim world and fantasist leaders and perverse groups blaming their problems on anyone but themselves.
"...we are will to extend a hand if you are will to unclench your fist..."
Praising the fallen soldiers and forefathers; remembering the past so we may not make the same mistakes.
"A willingness to find meaning in something greater than themselves."
It's up to us for this country to continue on.
Need for love, respect, community, and to "lend a hand" to our neighbors (extrapolated, represents the kind of country we must be with regard to the world).
Tuskeegee Airmen, sitting near the president as an example of the past that must be learned from and never repeated.
Remember what this country was built upon, what makes this country; these are the things that remain, must be remembered, and must continue.
"...new era of responsibility."
The task ahead of us is difficult, but we can't continue our lax behavior. We must confront the future with conviction and armed with the tenements this country was created upon.
We all have a job to do. No longer is it the leaders that must do the work, but all of us.
Rare comment about the dying of segregation and racism. He embodies the change that must occur and must be for this country to evolve into that "city on a hill". (standing ovation)
"My fellow citizens..." - He connects himself with the people. Makes himself less of a "rockstar" or "god" to being on pare with everyone.
Use of scripture - "...it is time to set aside childish things."
Reframing of commonly used and exhausted adages - racial unity, freedom, equality.
Remembering and taking pride in the past. Briefly remembering victories and learning from failures?
Get off your butt, stop complaining that it's too hard or not possible, and get back to work/the progress of this nation.
Necessary change, evolution, and development to meet requirements of the future. "All this we can do; all this we will do."
We must do our duties and jobs, each and every one of us, to ensure the progress of our nature. To continue to evolve and grow and be an example.
We must lead the world, be an example of justice, unity, freedom, and prosperity. (Be part of the world?)
It seems as though he's suggesting that we evolve our thought and actions from what we did in Iraq (invade, take over, rearrange, attempt to free the people, but never actually give them the ability to self govern or self rule) to what we must do in Afghanistan (assist the people to rise up against the oppressors and forge, for themselves, the country they deserve). "...and forge a hard earned peace in Afghanistan."
"We will not apologize for our way of life, nor will we waver in its defense..."
"We know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness..."
Emphasis on "non-believers". First president to recognize this, growing population in an effort, presumably, to bind us together again regardless of belief and/or faith.
Addresses the Muslim world and fantasist leaders and perverse groups blaming their problems on anyone but themselves.
"...we are will to extend a hand if you are will to unclench your fist..."
Praising the fallen soldiers and forefathers; remembering the past so we may not make the same mistakes.
"A willingness to find meaning in something greater than themselves."
It's up to us for this country to continue on.
Need for love, respect, community, and to "lend a hand" to our neighbors (extrapolated, represents the kind of country we must be with regard to the world).
Tuskeegee Airmen, sitting near the president as an example of the past that must be learned from and never repeated.
Remember what this country was built upon, what makes this country; these are the things that remain, must be remembered, and must continue.
"...new era of responsibility."
The task ahead of us is difficult, but we can't continue our lax behavior. We must confront the future with conviction and armed with the tenements this country was created upon.
We all have a job to do. No longer is it the leaders that must do the work, but all of us.
Rare comment about the dying of segregation and racism. He embodies the change that must occur and must be for this country to evolve into that "city on a hill". (standing ovation)
Friday, December 19, 2008
The move to come
Far too often I let the sight of falling snow consolidate all the maybes and possibilies and might-bes into a mass of twisted iron. It weighs and coats everything, the wind freezes the locks, and expands the metal to the point where the slightest adjustment in pressure might cause everything inside to pinata outwards. It's time to move...
On January 12th I leave for Decatur, IL. Until today, I didn't know where I'd be living - the fear that I might being forced to live with an 18-year old freshman, experiencing alcohol and independence for the first time - or whether I'd be able to eat anything. I tried to speak with the head chef about my "food requirements" over three months ago to no avail. He suggested that I get an apartment off campus and cook for myself, noting a Kroger not more than a mile from campus. I gave him a look through the phone, it was not received. That conversation ended with nothing. He passed the buck, refused to actually deal with my requests, and told me to handle it for myself. Of course, this is something I do right now, something I've been doing for two years now since discovering my "food requirements", and am perfectly comfortable continuing to do so. Problem was: Kroger.
A Kroger in Decatur, IL, no less. This is like asking a rock climber to buy her/his gear for the ascension of Mount Everest from a sporting goods recyclery store; all second hand and nearly worn through. There's just no way.
Then, continued the tribulations of trying to uncover whether or not a friend would sublet my apartment. His dodging had become tiresome over the months, his excuses (which turned out to be realistic, but still) unending, and I was left with more creaking and groaning of steel. It wasn't surprising that I find myself, right now, sitting at this computer wishing my stomach ache would subside or disappear so I can get to sleep. Usually, I'm forced to wait until I'm about to fall over, to hit the pillow, and it's becoming more then I can handle.
But, as I said before, this all existed until today. Today, I found out I have an apartment and that the director of dinning services has assured the dean I've been in contact with that there will be food for me to eat, every day, three times a day. Then, after more evading phone calls and texts, my friend finally told us what's going on with taking over the apartment. It was relieving. I felt my stomach warm and unbend...until I realized I'd be gone in less than a month.
Soon I'll be gone. Five months, sure, isn't a long time, but it is when you're in the belly of the beast. When you're unsure where your heart sits. I'll be back where I was six-years ago but older now, more prepared. But that doesn't calm me, it just opened one gate and froze a different one.
On January 12th I leave for Decatur, IL. Until today, I didn't know where I'd be living - the fear that I might being forced to live with an 18-year old freshman, experiencing alcohol and independence for the first time - or whether I'd be able to eat anything. I tried to speak with the head chef about my "food requirements" over three months ago to no avail. He suggested that I get an apartment off campus and cook for myself, noting a Kroger not more than a mile from campus. I gave him a look through the phone, it was not received. That conversation ended with nothing. He passed the buck, refused to actually deal with my requests, and told me to handle it for myself. Of course, this is something I do right now, something I've been doing for two years now since discovering my "food requirements", and am perfectly comfortable continuing to do so. Problem was: Kroger.
A Kroger in Decatur, IL, no less. This is like asking a rock climber to buy her/his gear for the ascension of Mount Everest from a sporting goods recyclery store; all second hand and nearly worn through. There's just no way.
Then, continued the tribulations of trying to uncover whether or not a friend would sublet my apartment. His dodging had become tiresome over the months, his excuses (which turned out to be realistic, but still) unending, and I was left with more creaking and groaning of steel. It wasn't surprising that I find myself, right now, sitting at this computer wishing my stomach ache would subside or disappear so I can get to sleep. Usually, I'm forced to wait until I'm about to fall over, to hit the pillow, and it's becoming more then I can handle.
But, as I said before, this all existed until today. Today, I found out I have an apartment and that the director of dinning services has assured the dean I've been in contact with that there will be food for me to eat, every day, three times a day. Then, after more evading phone calls and texts, my friend finally told us what's going on with taking over the apartment. It was relieving. I felt my stomach warm and unbend...until I realized I'd be gone in less than a month.
Soon I'll be gone. Five months, sure, isn't a long time, but it is when you're in the belly of the beast. When you're unsure where your heart sits. I'll be back where I was six-years ago but older now, more prepared. But that doesn't calm me, it just opened one gate and froze a different one.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Brain threads
There's something that wants to come out right now, but I'm not sure which 'something' I want to hold the cage upon for. That's the way it ends up after watching a great film, seeing something inspiring, drinking a eye-opening song or album. And that's where I am right now.
I'm in bed. There are sleep noises all around me: hum of the laptop's fan, sag of bed, churning of the heater, jangle as it turns off. I want to write about inspiration, but I won't. I want to write about where an idea begins, but I won't. So, let's go with train of thought.
Apparently, I've been told, the train that sits in the station in my head does not make all the stops a lot of other people's does. There are a few that try to tie that to this disability thing that I won't get into but I doubt that's it. After all, could a disability shape one's perspective? Could it form the pattern? Could it extrapolate the projected path from someone mentioning how beautiful the sunset is to me just stopping, completely shutting down? Nah, that doesn't make much sense. My brain does that. Sure, the route isn't necessarily predetermined all the time but more often than not, it is.
I'm a staunch believer in thought nodes. What I mean to say is that the phycological star I hitch my theory to is that there are these nodes, interconnected through synapses, of thoughts, memories, images that are spaced out throughout the brain. Now, these nodes are just the generalized notions, the most basic, boiled down generality of things. Hmm...let's try this again. Yellow, green, and blue are all colors. They're all defined within that umbrella, right? Right. So, there's a node. Colors: Yellow, green, blue, etc. The problem is that green is comprised of both blue and yellow, so those branches are connected independently of the umbrella: color. Following? Awesome.
So, here's the thing: these items in the brain, plus the nodes that they branch from are associated and organized specifically. So, I'm saying, my brain associates things differently then most. Why? Because there's one giant node, in my head, that all other nodes are threaded. All other branches can be lead back to one, universal mega-node: God.
Wow, I just went all over the place. Anyway, with God firmly established, with this "mega-node" as the backbone, the fundamental, purest, first creative point well established I can say that all inspiration and thought stems from that source: God.
Was that coherent at all? I'm not sure.
I watched ADAPTATION tonight for the first time and my brain immediately went to the way it's wired and why. So, I guess that's an explanation of who I am and how I think. I guess. Some train, huh?
I'm in bed. There are sleep noises all around me: hum of the laptop's fan, sag of bed, churning of the heater, jangle as it turns off. I want to write about inspiration, but I won't. I want to write about where an idea begins, but I won't. So, let's go with train of thought.
Apparently, I've been told, the train that sits in the station in my head does not make all the stops a lot of other people's does. There are a few that try to tie that to this disability thing that I won't get into but I doubt that's it. After all, could a disability shape one's perspective? Could it form the pattern? Could it extrapolate the projected path from someone mentioning how beautiful the sunset is to me just stopping, completely shutting down? Nah, that doesn't make much sense. My brain does that. Sure, the route isn't necessarily predetermined all the time but more often than not, it is.
I'm a staunch believer in thought nodes. What I mean to say is that the phycological star I hitch my theory to is that there are these nodes, interconnected through synapses, of thoughts, memories, images that are spaced out throughout the brain. Now, these nodes are just the generalized notions, the most basic, boiled down generality of things. Hmm...let's try this again. Yellow, green, and blue are all colors. They're all defined within that umbrella, right? Right. So, there's a node. Colors: Yellow, green, blue, etc. The problem is that green is comprised of both blue and yellow, so those branches are connected independently of the umbrella: color. Following? Awesome.
So, here's the thing: these items in the brain, plus the nodes that they branch from are associated and organized specifically. So, I'm saying, my brain associates things differently then most. Why? Because there's one giant node, in my head, that all other nodes are threaded. All other branches can be lead back to one, universal mega-node: God.
Wow, I just went all over the place. Anyway, with God firmly established, with this "mega-node" as the backbone, the fundamental, purest, first creative point well established I can say that all inspiration and thought stems from that source: God.
Was that coherent at all? I'm not sure.
I watched ADAPTATION tonight for the first time and my brain immediately went to the way it's wired and why. So, I guess that's an explanation of who I am and how I think. I guess. Some train, huh?
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
As the days move on...
It's been a little while, yes. Right now, I sit in Cafe Ambrosia in Evanston, a block from Northwestern's campus, trying to create content. Since the last time I posted Heather and I launched Davidprecht.com and really want you to visit it. It's super rad!
Outside of that, I've been so busy with the Central Region Baha'i Conference this past weekend and trying to get this site up and content-ful. I haven't really been able to think about life without work, I've been so cocooned in other stuff. We'll see how things settle in the next couple days. Perhaps I'll begin thinking about it again. As it stands, however, there's too much else to think about.
Outside of that, I've been so busy with the Central Region Baha'i Conference this past weekend and trying to get this site up and content-ful. I haven't really been able to think about life without work, I've been so cocooned in other stuff. We'll see how things settle in the next couple days. Perhaps I'll begin thinking about it again. As it stands, however, there's too much else to think about.
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