life.

i've realized that i am atrocious when it comes to posting about my actual life.  i usually stick to likes and dislikes  or things that interest me.  but hardly ever discuss the real goings on with my daily life.






for one, i don't think my usual activities are all that interesting.  even when i do something out of the ordinary or go some where i still can't seem to find a reason to post about it.  journalistic posts about my adventures in pohang or trips to neighboring cities throughout korealand seem trite and lame to me.  dear diary, today i went to blah blah blah, we saw blah blah, it was blah blah.  it's like the fill in the blank dialogues i give to my students.  boring.  this still doesn't explain why i don't post about my more personal thoughts.  what shoes i want to buy or what music i like is hardly all there is to me.  and yet, i can't bring myself to put any of the more intelligent or 'deep' (ugh, just the thought of that word makes me shiver.  it's usually misused by obnoxious people who think the are 'mature' - another word i try to avoid) thoughts out in cyber space.

if i'm really honest.  i don't write that stuff out because that would mean having to deal with it.  seeing it on the screen would make me reflect upon it and suddenly, things that seemed rational and desperately important might not.  problems that appeared minuscule might prove to be gargantuan.  i know hardly anyone reads this, but several people have access to it and what if they randomly got the urge to take a gander at it?


over the weekend a friend stayed at my place. he's a character to say the least.  a writer.  obsessed with the self obsessed styles of the beats and gritty writing made popular by keroac, and bukowski.  very fond of fitzgerald, he is obsessed with manic pixie dream girls, and plays the role of the tortured drunk in need of a feminine fix perfectly.  that being said, he's incredibly bright.


anyway, while we were trying to fall asleep (totally platonic, i might add) he says "i worry about you.  you're  clever and smart, that is obvious, but i worry about you.  you are one of those people with a lot going on in your mind, and i'd dare to say you ever speak half of it."  or something along those lines.  and while that is true of most people, we think constantly and hardly say a word, i think he really meant it. and i can't argue with him.  it's weird, i play like i don't care what others think, and i'd argue till the death that i don't.  but when someone says something about me, like this, i can't forget it.  it felt, real.  it was such an obvious translucent statement when you really think about it, but for some reason, it has stuck with me.  in that moment, drunk as he was, he really thought he was telling me something unique about myself, and i believed him.  i still do.

if you've made it this far, cheers.  if you can make any sense of it, you're a saint.  

 ps all these photos are from a Tom Ford ad campaign from a few years back.  the crows and menacing feel of them reminds me of edgar allan poe.