thoughtjunkie

So, on Thursday, I have to miss teaching my class because of a work-related mandatory meeting on the other side of the island. The meeting is to plan for a Language and Culture Festival next Saturday.

My coteacher is supposed to go to the meeting too, so she doesn't have to cover the class by herself (like she will do on Friday, when Jei, Tom, and myself fly to Seoul. She, however, won't be able to attend the language festival, so I said,

"You could just play hookey."
"Play hookey?" She asked.
"Do you know what playing hookey is? Oh man! Playing hookey has a long and illustrious career in American culture. It's what we do," I said. I started to write 'Play Hookey' on the board.
"Ah! Aah! Play Hookey! Yes, I know this!" Then a pause as the thought turned over in her mind. "You mean skip? I could skip?"
I shrugged. "Sure, why not? You can't go to the festival anyway."
What followed, I can only describe as a laugh of pure revelation and joy. It was more than a little goofy, and given the circumstances, adorable. It came out of her like, "Ahoohoohohaha!"
It is very strange to me, that skipping out on a meaningless activity could be seen as a novel idea. Even stranger that I think she sees it as a rebel activity. A harmless rebellion, like dying your hair purple at age 12 or listening to rap music in the 90s-- trivial in its risk, and yet bold and exciting.

It reminded me--indulge this nerdiness for a moment-- of when my parents and I had a theoretical discussion on the corruption of Hobbits by The One Ring (Yes, this post got that nerdy that fast-- you've met me before. You should have seen this coming).
"The One Ring could have corrupted any of the Hobbits, but they could only have been as powerful as their wisdom allowed them to be," my Dad said.
"Why? That doesn't make sense," I'd said.
"Look," my mom entered the conversation, strange in that she rarely indulges in arguments of this genre. "Sure, they would have been corrupted, but if all a Hobbit knows is Hobbiton, then he or she would think, 'You mean, with this ring, I can have unlimited power? You mean like... I can be Mayor? FOREVER?!'"

I know someone who got teargassed and peppersprayed when she charged a blockade in DC, during an anti-war protest. My coteacher gets excited over not attending a meeting that has no bearing on her.

Mayor forever indeed!

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Writing time today was cool. We hung out in the neato privately owned (being non-chain is a big deal here for cafes) coffee shop in my town. The music I don't dig so much, but the guy is Started a new project in a completely different style than I normally operate in, which is cool. Hoping to finish it tonight, actually.

Afterwards, Jei and I went to Mangdu Heaven. I got Bulgogi soup (which was awesome-- I will be experiencing it again upon our next visit to Mangdu heaven (mangdu being 'dumpling', though I'm not sure I'm transliterating it right). Jei just got massive amounts of mangdu, which was also a very good choice.

Hung out with Jei, waiting for the bus, then walked home.
On the way home, this happened:
Walking across the street where The Bar (a very chill expat hangout) and the PCBang where I lived for my first few weeks are, a 40 year old man (exact age) with a stark white shirt and glasses came running across the street, grinning with his hand held high.
"Hello! Hello!" he said, gripping my hand and shaking warmly, with a bow.
"Anyonghaseio," I said and bowed back.
Still shaking my hand, he gently held my forearm with his other hand, and guided me backwards to the edge of the street.
"Have you heard Jesus Christ? Heard, Jesus Christ?" He echoed his words, as if trying to if he'd pronounced them correctly.
"Yes. I've heard of Jesus Christ. He and I have the same birthday." Which, of course isn't true, but whatever. He was a weird guy on the street-- I don't think specifics of changed-calenders really matter to the conversation.
"Birthday?"
"Yes. December 25th? Christmas?"
"Christmas..? Ah! Christmas!"
"Yeah."
"Have you heard Jesus Christ?"
"Yes."
"You believe-- you believe-- go to heaven. You no believe-- no believe-- you go... You go to hell."
Now, I'm not the sort of guy to blow off a good theology discussion, or run away because the guy's fundamentalism (who actually wasn't drunk, believe it or not) puts me off. I guess what I'm trying to say is: I'll play ball.
So I said, "Tell me. Are things good because God says they're good, or are things good, and God just follows the rules?"
I guess no one had ever brought the Euthyphro dilemma to a streetside preaching. Especially not in English.
"No. Earlier. Earlier, there was Adam and Eve. Adam sin? He sin. Then, the bad."
Doh. Philosophical dilemma, meet language barrier. Language barrier? Philosophical dilemma.
"That's not what I... Okay," I said.
"How old? How old are you?"
"I am 24."
"Ohhh! 24! American age?"
"No. Korean Age."
"Ah! I ammm... 40. I am 40. In America? 39."
"Nice."
It occurred to me, at this moment, that he had positioned me to be facing a rather specific direction. Not that I don't trust strange 40 year old men who accost me in the middle of the night, but... I pulled my bag round to the front of me, dropped my iPod (which is ancient and broken in 4 different ways, any one of which would have most people replace it) into a zippered compartment, zipped it shut, and put my hands in my pockets.
"So you? What is your name?"
"My name is Christian."
Hey, if he can't find the one white guy in Jungmun...
"You... Oh! Your name is Christian?"
"Yes."
"Okay! Okay! I believe in Jesus! And you believe in Jesus! And we go to heaven!"
"Um. Uh huh."
And with that, he shook my hand again, and tottered away.

So... THAT was weird.

(and no, I didn't have anything stolen. Which is cool too).