The Freak Out, Part One

Ladies and gentlemen, it has finally happened. After two+ years of using and abusing the free (read: I just bought my 15th toffee nut latte this month and I DESERVE it) wireless, Starbucks has finally cut me off.  KT is now sponsoring all ‘Bucks wi-fi and is asking me to pay for the service. Please. As if I wasn’t already paying...

So I’m composing this post on Appleworks (yes, I know).  Hopefully it gets posted in a timely manner.

Alright, about that freak out. A mere six months ago, my blathering and bitching and moaning came to a head when I emailed my stepfather, asking him to get me the fuck out of dodge.  Yes.  I did that. I am not proud of it.  I was in a bad place.  Exhausted, miserable, lonely and full of spite, I was ready to pull the plug on this bitch and start fresh at home.  Besides, he offered to foot the bill after reading this.  Apparently my parents were all sorts of worried about my winter time carousing and thought I was seriously fucked up.  I don’t blame them.  

But then a whole slew of thangs happened that turned my frown upside down, and it started with three little words: Stop being stupid.  Wise words, Grandpa.  Guess he didn’t earn that nickname for nothing.  After a week of playing the “should I stay or should I go now” game, I called up Grandpa from classroom 405 and dumped all my frustration on him .  His response? Stop being stupid. So I extended my contract one more time, and vowed to make peace with Seoul.  I broke the news to the family, assuring them I would do my best to be home for Christmas, and all but promising I would indeed be home at the end of this contract.

In protest, my mother used up all her skymiles and bought a ticket to come visit.  If I was willing to tough it out, I guess she figured it was time to see what all the fuss was about.  To say I was ecstatic is a gross understatement.  I was fucking beside myself!  Suddenly the world was filled with rainbows and unicorns and chubby-cheeked babies all singing We Are the World.  Immediately I started a countdown.
There were so many things to see and do and buy and discover.



In my cloud of excitement, a funny thing happened: my sadness all but disappeared.  With a newfound focus and fresh eyes for Seoul,  I called a truce with the city. Seoul is a bitch, but I decided I could rough it out with this frenemy, as long as she promised to keep it together for moms.

As the summer wore on, My Weekday Mistress and I became closer.  Thursday Night Taco Bell Bitch Sessions turned into weekend rendevous.  Before I knew it, our weekday affair had bled into the weekend and I got to meet her wife. Basking in our newfound love for all things TB and Glee, we planned a trip to Taiwan for Chuseok.  Again, my focus shifted from bitching to planning.  Sadness was staved off once again.

Before I knew it, Halloween was around the corner, along with a two week vacation, and mom’s impending Korean Takeover.  Nothing could stop me; I was on cloud nine.  With the spring’s bitterness all but forgotten, I boarded the airport limo to Incheon to retrieve moms.

For seven fun-filled days we shopped, explored, laughed, and cried.  She was adventurous and outgoing and seemed to really enjoy herself here.  I had an excellent time playing tour guide and wowing her with my shamefully limited Korean speaking abilities (I think I fooled her, though.) The visit allowed her to see my life in a way she never had.  As a thirty-year-old college grad, she was aware (in the abstract, at least), that I am independent.  However, I’m not sure she (or I, for that matter) really understood what that meant before she got here.  For seven days she relied upon me for everything.  I will admit this was an intense burden and by the time the week was up, I was ready to have my life back.  

After a particularly raucous evening of cooking and drinking with Grandpa, Eurohot and Jonhee, we piled into a cab and headed for Gangnam.  We had all consumed copious amounts of wine and beer and were fairly lit when she asked, “So, have you thought about staying?”

The question caught me off guard and I was truly unsure how to answer.  Of course I had thought about staying.  My job is going well, I have an awesome circle of friends who regularly amaze me with their wit, talent, and resourcefulness, and I have affordable health insurance.  At this point, America’s only batting .33 on this front -- Korea 1, America 0.  But I don’t think I had admitted this to myself, let alone actually said it out loud.  Besides, admitting that yes, a part of me wanted to stay, was akin to slapping my mother in the face (at least in my mind.)  

So I said no, not really.  To say she planted the seed is unfair, however, since her visit I have been more and more unsure as to my next move.  To make matters worse, my boss *just* asked me to re-sign for another year.

*Parenthetically: OMFG YOU GUYS, I cannot believe she asked me to stay!!  I have worked my ass off to make her life a living hell this year.  Just goes to show that the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t...  Also, I told her no.

Anyway, I feel like I just puked up three months worth of neurosis into one epically long and boring post.  I’ll finish this bitch tomorrow...

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