I know it's been a dreadfully long time since I've written. I've been lazy. The longer I go the more work it seems the whole mess will be, so I continue to put it off. But apparently my brain doesn't think I should sleep tonight. And it occurs to me that leaving out the pictures will move this process along. So here it is: a blog from me. But no pictures.
I've had any number of subjects I've wanted to use as I've thought about writing entries the past couple of months. Some of my favorites have included:
never quite a mile
still D-Nice one
from an honorary kiwi and America's next top model
desert racehorses and other indications of madness
Tickle Miss Denice (three words you don't want to hear while teaching first graders)
I salsa-danced with Bruce Lee
Instead I typed in a random question that has no bearing on my life or the contents of this blog.
Last weekend I went to Geongju (I made that spelling up) with Celeste (a coworker). It was the perfect way to spend the weekend. I got to see a lot of cool old Korean stuff, which I guess was the point, but mostly I was glad to be out of the Seoul metro for a while. It was so nice to breath without thinking about the fact that I'm breathing, if that makes any sense. It was a four hour train ride to get there and the scenery was ideal. I even saw a giant, golden Buddha on a mountainside. Also, the train here is so much more comfortable than air travel. I'm hoping they've extended the rails into Oklahoma before I head back to the states.
I did manage to get a sunburn (silly girl) which I halted with the purchase of an enormous straw hat. I also sampled the famous Geongju bread, which must be the only thing they eat out there, because it seems that Celeste and I passed dozens of Geongju bread places looking for somewhere to get some real food for lunch Saturday afternoon.
Overall, the experience made me really want to find a place outside of the city to teach next year. I think my only regret on that front would be moving away from a great English branch at church.
I went salsa-dancing with some of the girls from church a couple of weeks ago. I started the evening with a basics class where I was paired up with a Korean model and part-time salsa instructor who had chosen Bruce Lee as his English name. It was the kind of moment where I say to myself, 'Denice, you are in Korea salsa-dancing with a male model named Bruce Lee.' and then I answer myself, 'Yup.' Of course, by the end of the evening my partner was a Korean girl who spoke no English and was as thick as my wrist, but at least she let me have the girl's part.
Today we had a kindergarten field trip to a robot museum. It was quite nice. I bring it up for two reasons, really. First, I watched six mini robots ballet dance to Sarah Brightman singing opera. That is a sentence I wouldn't have expected to ever use. Second, now I have been to the ubiquitous hall. For those who need it (because I knew what the word meant and still came home and looked it up): according to the Merriam-Webster dictionary the word ubiquitous means existing or being present everywhere at the same time. I have to admit I had reservations when we approached the room marked with a neon sign in English. What kind of effect would entering a ubiquitous hall have on me? Was I ready for what waited within? Was it safe to bring my kindergarteners with me? I have to admit that my step over the threshold lacked resolve, but it isn't always with determination that we enter ubiquity.
In the end it turned out to be a showroom for futuristic gadgets, the kind of stuff you'd expect to find at Disney's Tomorrowland (and now I have the song from the carousel of progress stuck in my head.) Actually, none of the stuff in the room seemed to be particularly ubiquitous to me, or, like most of the stuff at Disney's Tomorrowland, particularly futuristic. The trouble with portraying the future is that it keeps catching up.
Now you get a Denice flashback that has almost nothing to do with any of this: When I was in the fourth grade there was a book-shaped package for me under the Christmas Tree. Dad told me it was a basketball, but it wasn't, it was a book. It was a Merriam-Webster pocket dictionary (though I don't think I have any pockets big enough for it. Maybe pockets were bigger back then and I've forgotten.) I'm sure the dictionary's gotten a lot more use from me than a basketball ever would have. I still have it. The only remaining evidence that it ever had any cover at all is the red stripe of a spine, and I regret that I've also lost the pronunciation guide contained in the first few pages, but all of the words are still there. You know what word isn't there, though? Internet. That's right, my dictionary is older than the Internet. I thought of that just now, as I was typing up the definition of ubiquitous. In fact, for all I know, ubiquitous means something completely different than it did 18 years ago, and here i am using it synonymously with omnipresent like a chump. The thing is, I love Mr. Dictionary (I don't remember when I named it, but it wasn't on one of my most creative days, was it?) I don't want a newly revised and updated version. Besides, I just checked and it does have the word fuselage. Fuselage is my favorite word to look up because I had a crush on a boy once who told me that it was his favorite word. I didn't know what it meant at the time, but now I look it up any time I'm testing a dictionary. I know that's probably not the best standard, but Mr. Dictionary passes, so I think I'm set. Besides, my dictionary smells good.
Okay, that was much more random than I meant for it to be, and I think the nerd in me is showing more than I usually let it, so I'm going to stop.
But at least I've written, right?