Log51: Upload

Thanks to Dianna for recording and posting this (Youtube).

Final Dinner Performance: "An ETA Mash-up"

Sunday June 26, 2011, Dragon Hill Lodge, U.S. Army Base

Transcript:

[Well, I have the pleasure of not seeing any of you face-to-face, which will make this task much easier presumably but...

I don't really know who signed me up for this act but, 

I think he's foolish (I was referring to myself)...

But while I'm out here, 

I'd like you take you on a personal retrospective if you will 

on my previous grant year.

I seek your patience and forgiveness where it may be required.

Now, prizes for anyone who can name the song and title (I meant "artist") of each song I'll be covering today.]

to the tune of "Desperado" by The Eagles

Goesangun

Why don't you come to your senses

I've been out riding buses, for so long now

It may be rainin', but I just can't see past those mountains

You better let somebody find you (let somebody find you)

You better let somebody find you

Before I leave to get some tacos

interlude/narration to the tune of "Everday" by Carly Commando

[Mr. Kim Sung Kee is an English teacher at my school.  He is a very kind man, married, fifty years.  One day he comes up to me and says, "Hello."  Ah, Mr. Kim! How are you?  Oh very good, very good.  Great!

Silence.

I notice his necktie and try to make it a point of conversation.  So I tell him it's a very nice. Oh thank you, with a big grin on his face.

But then I see that he's thinking, he's thinking about something and I realize, oh well he was just complimented by a native English speaker, so of course he wants to return a compliment.  

So I wait.  And I wait.  Finally he says: 

"You have beautiful eyes."]

to the tune of "Easy" by the Commodores

[Of course, I'll miss all my goofy teachers,

But I'll also miss my students. Inevitably]

Know it sounds funny but I just can't change the word

It's silver, not "shil-buh"

Seems to me boys you know I've done all I can

Played games with candy and prizes

Now you're sleeping

Sleeping like it's Sunday morning

Now you're sleeping

Sleeping like it's Sunday morning

to the tune of "Goodbye My Lover" by James Blunt

[Of course I'll miss my students and teachers, 

but I think sometimes I'll miss the little things in Korea.]

Did I disappoint you, or let you down

Should I be feeling guilty, or let the judges frown

'Cause I saw the end before we'd begun,

Yes I saw you were blinded and I knew I had won.

And as you move on, remember me,

Remember us and all we used to be.

You touched my heart you touched my soul.

You changed my life and all my goals.

[I messed up badly.]

I know you well, I know your smell.

I've been addicted to you.

Goodbye, Samgyupsal.

Goodbye my friend.

You have been the one.

You have been the one for me.

Goodbye, Bibimbap.

Goodbye, Kimchi.

You have been the ones

You have been the ones for me.

I'm so hollow baby, I'm so hollow.

I'm so, I'm so, I'm so hollow.

to the tune of "Friends, Lovers or Nothing" by John Mayer

[And as we move into the final stretch of our journey,

we have to look at the big picture.]

Now that I am over as the Fulbright kind

I'll be dreamin' ways to keep the good alive

Only when I want is not a compromise

I'll be pourin' tears into your dryin' eyes.

Mail, Facebook or Twitter

There will always be more than one

Mail, Facebook or Twitter

It'll never be oh quite the same 

But stay in touch.

[I've made many memories and many experiences in Korea,

But what I've valued the most 

is that which I have derived and learned from the most,

and truth be told that's

all of you.

It has been my utmost privilege--and I say this frankly--

to have been part of this wonderful community and family.

Thank you so much.]

Anything other than send is no

Anything other than a Tweet is no

Anything less than a wall-post is cheating

Anything other than send is no

Anything other than a Tweet is no

Anything less than a wall-post is cheating

Mail, Facebook or Twitter

There will always be more than one

Mail, Facebook or Twitter

It'll never be oh quite the same 

But stay in touch.

Thank you.

Log24: The Uninvited, Part I

Well, it's been a while since I last wrote anything at all, so please excuse the inevitable incoherence and disorganization that will follow.

First, I know the title seems really pretentious, and maybe to some, it already so obviously is.  For what it's worth, I ask that you please humor me and read on as I try to explain why I think the title is appropriate and, perhaps, try to remove the veil of pretension and illuminate a sort of truth lying beneath.

Over the past couple of weeks, I have had the privilege of witnessing a great range of moments, all of which seem to have entailed some entity or being positioned as a kind of outsider.  More often than not, I myself have occupied that place as one who is from without, a foreigner, in more ways than simply my nationality.  In other cases, I have witnessed another distinct foreign entity collide with the reality before and come to shed new light on my life.  The following experiences I share are prominent examples that not only try to live up to the different meanings embedded in the notion of "the uninvited," but also more practically illustrate the life I have been leading, and living, here in Korea.

I. In the House of God

Two Wednesdays ago, the school minister (I teach at a Christian high school) asked me to join students from the Christian club to perform some music at a church located within an army camp.  Always seeking performance opportunities, I agreed.  On the following Monday and Tuesday, I stayed at school until 8PM to rehearse with the students: three cellists, two violinists, and a clarinetist, all of who were, needless to say, cute.  Growing up in Korea where a student's life is not about which extracurricular activities he or she pursues, but if the activities are pursued at all, these students have admirably contuinued their trades -- albeit only to a more modest degree relative to their American counterparts (no more than two or three years) --, and I was very happy to see them enjoying themselves.*

*Those who do commit themselves to an (usually one) extracurricular activity (i.e. soccer) dedicate themselves as professional athletes would in the states, dropping hopes for a life outside of that particular activity (i.e. only soccer).  There is not enough time for a Korean "student" to be both a student and an experienced/formal/club soccer player, say (there really aren't any outside "clubs" or "youth" organizations for extracurricular activities here, so it's no wonder school athletes are not required to attend class).**

**I'm sure I'm generalizing, as I speak from the small window of reality that is I am seeing, so this is not necessarily capital-T THE reality.

On the following day, the students and I packed up after school to go lead the evening service at the church for soldiers, located an hour north of Jeonju (I forget the name of the town).   The bus ride proved an enjoyable but exhausting test of linguistic trial-and-error, as the students bombarded me with their recapitulations of English idioms, colloquialisms, and "proper" usage.  Still though, butchered English words, the stories told incoherently todl through broken English, and jokes reinterpreted and recycled from grade school rejuvenated me in both spirit and purpose.  These students began to seem less like "students" and more like humans; almost like younger brothers.

It was a cute little church that could seat maybe...70 people?


The minister, directing preparations.
 

The students preparing for the service. 
I would soon find out what an entertainment extravaganza the service would really be: singing, dancing, speeches, plays, and music.


Choral practice.


There was cross-dressing involved. For the sake of the soldiers...or so they said.  Harhar. :)

Now for those of you who may not know yet, I am not religious.  I did not grow up going to a church or abiding by a major religion's doctrine or creed.  Though I would name Buddhism if I had to choose a major religion with which my family and I seem to at least have a familial association, sacred spaces or houses of worship were not a large part of my family, much less my childhood and youth.

And yet, from the absence of religion grew an ironic fascination with it.  Ever since I came to have some semblance of awareness about myself and the world, I have always found religion fascinating both intellectually and personally.  I have always yearned to learn more about it, from it, maybe because of its absence.  To be sure, this intellectual intrigue has had to combat a serious visceral and strangely unexplainable disinclination toward what few interactions I have had with religious worship (mainly Christianity), and sadly I have no doubt that this immature self still lies deep within somewhere whining and kicking every time somebody comes to proselytize or convert me when I am not ready or willing.  Still, I have realized in the past couple of years that one of the best ways to learn from those things that estrange you most is to engage it directly and commensurately, to confront and delve into it deeply, but perhaps more importantly, openly. 

This trip was another opportunity for me to do just that; to try to open my mind by becoming steeped in religion, and to do it within the house of god.

*     *     *

   Man those kids know how to dance!  Imagine the preparations, the time they put into this performance!  Imagine all the things they wanted to do but had to cut out because of time constraints, imagine the number of hours these students had to put in on top of their already unreasonable workload, and imagine the courage it took for them to do this, all in the name of God and their fellow brethren!  And look at just how much they are enjoying themselves!  They are so passionate, so lost in the moment, so inexplicably happy to share with others the glory of God, and do so through holy song and dance!



     Who am I to say what religion is good or bad, or even deem what constitutes a "good" or a "bad"?  Look at them, heads tilted up toward the stagelights as if they were the sun God himself is shining down; look at the smiles and the unfettered happiness they derive from this service!  Is this religion?  Is this what it means to be a believer, a follower of a faith?  Is this what it's like to be so completely and absolutely free of your world and struggles and know of a haven beyond?  Why then are there degrees of religiosity?  What does being religious really amount to then?  Does this mean any religion is okay?  Am I willing to resign myself to religious or cultural or subjective relativity?  Is that what I am doing, or is my reluctance to do so already a demonstration of some greater "humanist," "objective" creed by which we all abide?  Am I arrogant in saying that?  Is their reality better than mine?

     Wow, maybe the way these students feel about religion is the way I feel about music.   Is this their sanctuary, as music is mine?  Does that mean music is a religion?  Am I religious then?  But is that even a fair comparison at all?  What the hell is religion anyway?

*     *     *

For what it's worth, these students are talented.  Their dances were well-rehearsed, their songs worthy of great praise, and their enthusiasm and devotion to not only the service and the audience, but also their savior, were inspiring.*  The chance to see these students working under a different element in a vastly different context helped me connect with them on a new level.

 

*With particular note to dance, the frontman was the smallest, but the best; that man was killing it, dancing with a Michael Jacksonian conviction. 

NOTE: Most--if not all--of the students who were involved in this service are all very good students in my classroom.  I teach all but a couple of them, and they are all very attentive and hard-working.  What appropriate conclusions one wants to draw from this, I do not aim to explore right now...

I was certainly an outsider; at least it felt like it, at least in my religiosity (or rather, lack thereof).  In some ways, one cannot deny that I was not; what is a "heathen" doing in such a sacred space?  Perhaps I have come to be saved, or more ideally to learn and embrace that which so many millions around the world have already done, for God is great and loves all of mankind, believers and non-believers.  To his house I have come, invited by his disciples (followers) to perhaps begin a renewal, a rebirth. 

So am I a born-again Christian?

No, not quite.

But perhaps what I gained was of greater value: a chance to certainly chip away at the ignorance that has kept me from seeing religion both theoretically and empathetically, but also widen my heart as human being; that is to say, help me become a wiser, more understanding, more compassionate, and more engaged human being; that is to say, a better person.  The service helped clarify that distant and muddled form that always was religion into a more concrete figure.  Witnessing the evening as that outsider unfamiliar with this particular denomination and culture of Christianity, I gained a clearer picture of what religion might mean and to what it may amount.  I have begun seeing religion as something crucial both personally and communally, and was humbled by the fervent devotion and unfettered love that the faithful had for each other, and for what lay beyond.  

Log19: Catharsis

Overdue?

Yes.

An exhaustive retelling of the past couple of weeks?

Wishful thinking.

Can I try?

Absolutely. 

At the end of last week, I had begun to see from a distance a kind of dim aura of "the blues"; the kind of aura you see on the eastern horizon as you drive into Sin City, the kind of faint glow you see on the furniture when you sit by a gently-lit candle.  Rest assured, I did not see the aura of the clinically-conceived blues -- the blues, aka depression -- but rather that of the mercurial, episodic blues that leads you to a bit of a funk for a few days.  Of course, one could say "the blues" by definition is everything but mercurial or episodic and is nothing but a deep and harrowing experience so my last statement involves a contradiction in terms and henceforth is incomprehensible, and so on and so forth. 

For those of you who might be concerned right now, please don't be; I'm doing very well.  I am of course grateful to your kind hearts, but I want you to know that I would never let myself come near to that because I've seen what it is capable of.  And to me, there is a matter of choice here.  There is agency.*

*Which of course could be considered a privilege; one could argue that some must simply resign to the environmental conditions in which they have found themselves in order to simply survive.  If so, then I will accept that agency is a privilege, that I am accorded that privilege, and that I am willing to take advantage of it.

But -- and to quote a dear friend -- "who knows these things."

In any case, I remember one particular day that proved to be the turning point.

I had been having a rough week as I continued adjusting to the sights, sounds, and subtleties of the new world (not to mention to my school, my job, and my home for a year).  I remember feeling frustrated, almost furiously so.  Vexed by the inevitable vicissitudes the heart and mind suffer during any venture into a foreign frontier, my volatile desperado wanted out and to unleash violence upon all things friend and foe.  I felt at once vulnerable and unforgiving.

I sought fulfillment.

And so, I ran.

I remember that feeling vividly; a tingling craze crawling up and down my limbs like some alien virus, priming my body for some inhuman ritual.  I felt my toes, feet, legs, fingers, arms and torso jitter and twitch, as if they were microseconds away from rocketing out of my being.  I was on the brink of eruption, and if I had stayed in my tiny room, an internal supernova would have ruptured my cosmic continuum, and I would have imploded a la the subsequent black hole.

I told my hfamily that I would run around the block.  They tried to discourage me since it was pouring rain, but I saw it as all the more reason to go.

And boy did I run.  

I know, this can get grossly trite and cliche very quickly; "and I ran and I ran and I ran.  I felt like I could have run for weeks, months, even years.  I felt alive, I felt free, so revitalized..." adjective, adjective, adverb, adverb, descriptive words, trying words, contrived-and-uninspired attempts at recounting what I felt.

I guess such banalities are banal for a reason though, because truth be told, that's exactly how I felt.

It was liberating.

It was invigorating.

I did feel like I could have run for weeks, months, even years. 

I did feel as though the wind had breathed new life into me.

And somehow during those 45 minutes of running -- a nearly mindless physical activity that cleanses the soul and lets the mind rest -- I found inspiration, and hope, and courage: things that typically require some level of cognition and volition.  I rediscovered a bounce to my gait, a vitality in my limbs, and a smile on my face.  The outdoors became a temple, my jog my prayer, and the rain my fountain of youth.  Tremendous, I thought, the power of exercise and the oneness of the human body, mind, and spirit. 

The other avenue which I had not walked down for many days happened to be that of music.  I did not realize just how integral music would be, but I quickly learned that music would be the match that lights my fire within.  I picked up the flute after my jog, and practiced.  I did so only for a short while due to the lateness of the hour, but oh how it returned me to my senses!

Music has been a peculiarity in my life.  I discovered it when I moved to America, and has since never let it go.  Strange, I thought, for more often than not students' practice of music (in whatever form it may be) wither with time and the onset of new responsibilities.  I always thought I would have the same fate, and perhaps I will in time.  But to this day, such a fate is still inconceivable.

Or I just don't want to face that fate.  Maybe I'm fighting it.

But there has to be a reason, I thought, that I looked up the contact information of various music professors at the local universities and sent them e-mails.  There has to be a reason I did not give up after I received MAILER-DAEMON rejections of my letters.  There has to be a reason I did not call Jeonju University Department of Music, but instead went to the university after teaching one day, asked around for the arts building, went straight to the office of the instrumentalist professor, sat in front of her office for an hour until she finished her lesson, then knocked on her door to speak to her in person.  There has to be a reason I risked looking like a fool and idiot.

Thank goodness Lady Luck happened to be there.

I knew she was a graduate of Julliard and Stony Brook, so while her competence in English was absolutely expected, her welcoming spirit to a complete and utter stranger asking for opportunities and help like a bum off the street -- especially in this more conservative Korean society there the people you know has more weight than your individual merit -- was a welcome surprise.  She welcomed me to join her chamber music classes, and has since informed me via e-mail of a professional orchestra that her colleague is starting and about which she will inquire on my behalf.

And I think there has to be a reason I called my aunt who is a violinist in arguably the best symphony in Korea (KBS Symphony), who told me about the principal flutist there, who now got me in touch with the principal of the Jeonju Symphony.  And I think there has to be a reason I have met with this principal, and plan on taking lessons with her starting this coming week.

This isn't fatalism.  I am reluctant to believe that.  Again, I think there is agency.  And the reason is based in this agency, and the individual capacity to affect change.  The reason is based in autonomy and self-reliance. 

There is a reason I have been so proactive not out of interest but more out of necessity.  Music -- albeit in the form of Western tradition that I have been seeking -- is to me like food, water, thoughts, and dreams.  Music just has not gone astray from my life, nor have I ever even considered that it would.  It was always a matter of when, and never a matter of if: of course I will continue flute in high school; of course I will continue flute in college; of course I will bring my flute to Korea.  Why wouldn't I?  That would be like questioning if I would bring my ears with me to high school, or my Adam's apple to college, or my nose to Korea.  There has never been a question in my mind.  It was thoughtless, it was inconsiderate, it was reflexive; of course I'll continue to play music.

So where do I go from here?

Who knows.

All I know is that I won't feel completely human without music this coming year, so I hope I can really delve into -- and possibly join -- an ensemble, or musical community soon.  Wish me luck in that regard.

Another aspect of my life that has been improving this past week has been my job.  Teaching this week went better overall than I had expected, in part due to my change in attitude.  Now mind you the difficulties have not changed; my best day was possibly Friday, and it involved two wall-sits and sending two others out of class -- from a single class (let us also not mention the student who wrote me a two-page apology letter after speaking to the disciplinarian about his being completely nude in the back of my class). 

But I decided to change my mentality.  I decided to be selfish, and try to enjoy my life a little bit more.  Try to find the positives in the little things, find an excuse to feel at peace, to smile, or even laugh, even if that comes at the cost of truth.  Be willing to lie to myself a little bit, and maybe, maybe even gain "the clearer perception and livelier impression of truth, produced by its collision with error" (J.S. Mill, On Liberty).  Learn to be happier.

So when the students acted strangely, I made fun of them in jest.  When they made strange noises, I reacted bewildered and almost humored by their silly antics.  I tested them with jokes and humor just as they wanted to test me with their rambunctiousness and misbehavior.  I talked to them, showed them my smile, and even laughed with them.

And I can see its rewards, not only in its pedagogical utility, but in my life, my person-hood, and my well-being.

The aura I see now is not of the blues.

The aura I see now, though still at a distance, is one of a golden glow, of a brightening dawn, of a new morning.

Read into the imagery what symbolism you wish, but I have intended the connotations and emblems to be as transparent as they may seem.

"The night is darkest just before dawn."

Maybe I'll begin to like this place, and maybe even start to really enjoy myself here in this strange new world.

All the best,
Yours Truly

Log6.3: A Musical Renaissance

Much has happened since my last update two weeks ago. The following is the third of a six-part series. 

This is Part 3: A Musical Renaissance


Everyone told me that I should continue to play music after I graduate.  I couldn't tell you then or now how exactly I will be involved with music, but it seemed only right that I do.  I just can't seem to separate myself from this metal pipe of an instrument, and--ipso facto--music.

Since I've arrived in Korea I can't count...3? 4 days in which I failed to practice.  Of course, we must understand the term "practice" lightly, for I am not attending to the once rigors of scales, arpeggios and etudes I once used to.  By "practice," I could mean anything from an hour to ten minutes.  I know that daily and continued playing--even just touching the flute each day--can play a significant role in the long run.  Eventually, word got around that I play the flute, and there is an incredible pool of amazing musicians in this group of ETAs.  I have been happily surprised.


I met Emily (or more famously called EKG after her initials), an officer who works at the Fulbright office in Seoul .  After hearing her fantastic violin playing at an impromptu performance at Haeinsa, I had hoped to speak to her regarding musical opportunities in Korea.  Not two weeks later, I would be performing five pieces with her and another ETA pianist for over 120 students and staff!

She was asked by Camp Fulbright (see Log6.2: On Pedagogy) to perform something for the campers on Music day.  She approached me knowing that I had my instrument and asked if I wanted to collaborate and I of course readily agreed.  We recruited another ETA who happened to be a brilliant pianist, and together we rehearsed for maybe two hours in total and performed for the students.  We played a Telemann duet, the "Flower Duet" from the Lakme opera by Delibes, and three movements from a trio written by an Italian composer Cui.  


The last time I collaborated with other musicians--much less rehearse and perform with them--was more than two months ago.  I had not realized how much I missed it, but while rehearsing with these two fabulous musicians, I remembered the vitality, the energy, and the inexplicably divine and pure joy music gave me.  To stand there and immerse myself in the music and become lost--even if only for a moment--in a world beyond our own was the most refreshing break I had since arriving in Korea.  And to share this experience with the 100+ campers and their staff in addition to the musicians with whom I collaborated...well, that was just enchanting.