The View from the Poo

A Rant about Personality types called Limiters

2010-12-17T17:45:00.000-08:00

The other day I’m looking at the 2pm lunch special at Sbarro’s. There’s no one around, business is slow and has been slow since the 30,000 students left on winter break. I kindly ask the cashier to give me the 2pm special at the 1pm time. She says she can’t. Really?? I tell her that I won’t be hungry in an hour and that I’m here, ready to buy. No. I asked if she could ask the manager to override this rule and to give me the 2pm special price. She finally acquiesces. Was it the threat of asking the manager or just the threat of retribution of corporate policies on her?

This cashier had a limiter response to my request. This transaction was by a limiter, someone who obeys the rules of his clan or corporation. This is one of those things, a microcosm of the larger problem of our society. We’ve trained people to uphold stupid rules in the name of capitalism and economics and like the Fear of God, the fear of losing your job is the threat held over one’s head. This process allows so little leeway and flexibility in adapting to a new situation or just a change in the rules of an interaction. This is the same thing when a “robot” human checks your twenty dollar bill. Really?? We train people to ensure our currency is real? Why not check my singles and fives too? Who placed them in charge of the monetary supply and to enforce its rules? Checking for fake money is what banks do.

If you expand these events to the macrocosm, we have the attitudes and behaviors behind totalitarianism. Yes, those kindly German kids during WWII espoused hatred and took arms against the evil doers. Or how we inculcate ten year old boys after they’re taken hostage or kidnapped to fight wars in the Republic of the Congo. The latter by force and the former by cultural desensitization. We’re never far enough away from our past because the chain has always repaired itself after being destroyed.

Down the chain of command, this cashier at Sbarro’s or even your demurrer office colleague can’t take initiative because he or she has been guided by insipid rules. Those regulations have disregarded imagination and stifled customer service. And, me, almost begging for Sbarro’s 2pm discount price just to save $2.00 on overpriced pizza. That’s sick. And the kid, who’s in charge of her little link in the chain holds it together like a good soldier. She finally approved of the discount price after I explained how ridiculous this whole interaction and transaction is. Fuck it!

In the bureaucratic world of higher education, people like her are limiters too. They find ways of doing less at the expense and harm to those who want to do more. The limiters do as little as possible and don’t want to produce work for others. They no longer say it’s not my job. They just don’t act upon requests because their actions are dictated from above. If you don’t cc their supervisor in an email, they won’t do anything to help you unless they perceive some benefit to themselves. For those whose temperament like mine is to create (hopefully abundance), these types of people hinder drive and ambition. Instead of thinking creatively to solve problems and think of solutions, the limiters are injected into the process because we have to ask them about the rules and money and other things that are at odds with the functionality of creativity and thinking.

The limiters are just responders to another limiter above him so that the chain of command isn’t broken but kept welded together like a heavy chain. Even pointing out their folly doesn’t change the structure. The main limiter, the padlock, will eventually rust and break but another will replace it because the structure is built around that lock and we haven’t created another structure that’s independent. In a monotheistic society we have one God, and at the university, we have one lock as in monolimitism. (Sorry, I’m trying to create a new lexicon which will be quoted elsewhere by pseudo-intellectuals to make a name for myself or I will perish from the world of publishing; which I’ve never published before) People are scared to disobey the rules created by the corporations and organizations so they protect their status and jobs by upholding the rules and the processes. Otherwise, they’re jobless. They are the chain and gain strength from its size. They have no other imagination than what is allowed or supplied down that steel link from above. And once you destroy the chain, another appears.

The part that bothers me is that after the chain breaks, the structure repairs itself and replicates elsewhere. When a poor immigrant obtains part of the American dream, like a buying his or her first home, he will hire some low skill worker/s at a the same pay rate he got when he entered the country. We blame the limiters which they should be blamed but we need to change the padlock and chain by inventing something else. What then, you smugly ask?

Nothing. That’s right. We can’t be peaceful and happy in our society. Our differences create obstructions. All our systems have created rules of unhappiness. There’s nothing more to do. We can’t have a system where the rewards are knowledge and peace because there’s too many individuals who want power; there’s always someone with the need to collect things (cars, houses, vacations, money), to desire objects (partners, toys) and some others need to obey just like the church wants you to and has programmed you to do. Obey the rules and you’ll get rewarded in heaven. There’s no heaven. On the outside chance there is, there’ll be more rules, perhaps worse ones than here. How do you know there’s not? Maybe there’s lots of sex and violence too. I wouldn’t want to give up the sex part just because I don’t have a body though I wouldn’t mind not using the toilet.

Is this a cop out? Naw. If you really cared about starving children in your city, you’d ask the government to stop directing money into banal things and give it to the kids. Or we all should quit our jobs, grow and barter food and give it to people for free. Right? Nope. We’re greedy and self-centered, the way our systems have trained us. Go on Sbarro girl and be your righteous corporate self. I think the corporation can become a liable and legal identity (like a person) now and the courts will still continue protecting its legal, non-physical body status and identity.

Spite

2010-06-05T20:57:00.000-07:00

Bernard’s back in Canada now after two years of teaching ESL in Korea. For the past two weeks he’s been playing golf and watching sports on TV; his gf is travelling, I imagine. It’s almost two years since I’ve been back. I have a lot of “I should haves” and “shouldn’ts…” I imagine Bernard is starting to miss hard, those days in Korea. It’s difficult to describe the feeling of being there, working less than forty hours a week but feeling you have more than enough time to live and travel. You do. I should be sitting on the roof of my Gok-Pan apt right now, drinking and watching the sun set. Hearing kid’s excited voices echoing up the alley ways after their piano lessons or late night ESL classes. I could be catching up on emails at PC Ban, drinking that sweet apple soda and feeling rebellious by smoking cigarettes indoors. Feeling that I’m living the good life rather than now, just living a life. I don’t regret coming back; I regret leaving. The things you do for love will multiply somewhere, down the road, and eventually your detour panned out correctly in spite of the shitty directions you got in your life.

Bernard is golfing with his dad a couple of times a week. My own dad is somewhere in the south figuring out prostate tests and his next move. Bernard comes back to an economy recovering and his girl friend is still figuring out if beauty school is what she wants. He’s applied to grad school and the acceptantce letters are slow coming.

Although Gok-Pan’s apartment had its faults, I still think it was home and my “running away” (in quotation marks for now) was a brilliant idea in 2008 and what I needed. In three years (2013), I’ll run away again with a Masters degree and will feel like I’m the “master” of my destiny or at least, can choose a path that’s not lined with so much disappointment.

In Fall 2010 I should start my Masters in ESL. I second guess. “Should” because I still need to send in my letters of recommendation before July. And the school doesn’t have to accept me though I’m qualified. They can always find something legitimate to deny you. I always think about contingencies when it comes to school and work. With love, however, I don’t. I’m not in love anymore. I don’t speak with confidence and it shouldn’t matter. The school will make a decision in spite of my good grades and letters. In spite of my classroom visits and a dozen emails with one of the program professors. Life will spite me.

The car I’ll borrow from my mom to drive to class, will fail and waiting for her to make a choice about anything, no reasonable person should wait that long. The linguistics class I took two quarters ago and hated will be needed in the classroom. The knowledge I gleamed and those ugly nights I studied and suffered and got a tutor that saved me, will come alive like the resentment and anger I felt then because the course was a pre-requisite. I hope it won't be a premonition with the master's program. With those events my career path will be called into question again. I need something in my career to jettison me out of my career rut. If there is a thread in my life, it’s working in and around education. And, will a Master's help? We'll see.

Bernard and Charlene will meet later this year after three months of separation. Will their two year Korean relationship continue in the North American continent? Will all those things I told him he’ll miss about Korea shake him of his couch back home in Canada? Do LA Koreans who haven’t been back in twenty years, be so Americanized that they forget the real Korea? The feeling of walking down Gok-Pan’s streets, after a night of drinking and eating, when the world is calm and ajumas are throwing water over their restaurant sidewalks, will they long for this too? Is America’s life so much better and unique? Maybe Seoul made you feel claustrophobic but do you really believe that living in Los Angeles is better?

It's been a while

2009-11-21T18:23:00.000-08:00

I haven’t written a blog entry in two months. That’s okay. My audience has left for “greener” pastures. Selfish. But aren’t we all? We want to be surrounded by bright-sided light, not bogged down in the "darkness" of scatological acrimony. We want to watch Oprah, not—some other popular TV show which is the opposite of Oprah’s--which I don’t know the name of--for appearing current and hip in our culture.

I’ve been writing my first novel. What’s it about? It’s about love lost but redeemed in Korea. Or as my writing teacher puts it, a book about hope in Alaska in 1959. Inside joke.

See you soon. I hope.

Erving Goffman is not dead, he just smells funny or so he thinks you observe

2009-10-17T14:35:00.000-07:00

Lately, I’ve been thinking about Erving Goffman. He’s from the school of symbolic interaction I studied as a sociology major in college. His theories are interesting and relevant then and today. He looked at our face to face world of interaction and how we project and observe each other in different settings and most importantly, how we manage our "faces" or "masks" during these interactions.

In my novel writing class there are a couple of women who are good looking. They usually arrive dressed in their office garb: skirts and heels and nicely done make-up. One of them is blond and the other brunette. Each of us reads, out loud, a page from our novels each week. They are both better writers than me. The blond reads from her memoir / novel and the brunette has a story about a couple traveling somewhere in the mid west. If you look at them, they seem totally normal. But after you hear them read from their current works, they are messed up. These are really crazy, hurting women. You wouldn't know it. If you just talk to them like they’re your co-worker rinsing her coffee cup in the kitchen sink, you wouldn’t think of them as these “fictional” characters. But underneath their skin, from their writing hand, come a “fictional” story hidden in their character’s lives. So, on one hand, they are managing their face at work which is (I greatly assume) normal and professional. On the other hand, during the novel writing class, their first person narratives are messed up individuals. I perceive them through a lens and filter of their writing which is “fiction” while at the same time I observe their classroom masks. Oh, it’s all very complicated, this symbolic interaction stuff. How can I be sure?

In a symbolic interaction way, I think I know how people observe me. Most people have learned the skill of concealment so that they can live and work in the private and public world and in an Erving Geoffmanesque way, understand how others observe them and properly maintain and manage a "face." So, one day they’re feeling depressed. Or angry. No one really knows. You can’t tell. With me, however, you can—so I think. I observe people who are observing me and from their feedback and reactions, I deduct their reactions to me! I don't think that I have not learned proper management of my public or private mask. I’m sure others would dispute this but I feel certain, although with no factual basis, that the two chicks in my class are on the edge of something which none see. But what we see or how they fictionalize themselves in their writing, the masks are not concealed. Or are they?

The blond picks at herself to manage her emotions. It’s subtle when she's in the classroom. Outside, during the break, nothing. The brunette, when you watch her eyes carefully, nervously darts them. She also does this subtle squinting thing, almost like a scowl and her voice, when reading her pages out loud, cause me to feel at ease. She’s this tense crumpled paper of constant revisions thrown in frustration on the floor. Maybe if she read some Dickinson or Shakespeare this voice of hers would sound normal. Maybe others in the classroom observe her "face" the way I do. Maybe reading our novels, masks drop and our real selves emerge?

What would Goffman say about my characters in my novel and are their "faces" the composite of mine which I portray and manage on paper and in person? Can you completely separate out any character "face" from your own character "mask"? Are all characters some facet of us which we manage and maintain both public and private faces? When the two chicks read their novel out loud, am I hearing their private "face," a composite of them vis a vis their character? Or, when I observe them in class, not reading, are their public "face" replaced by another which makes one pick at herself and the other one a ball of tension?

Palmer, Matthew

2009-09-25T10:25:00.000-07:00

A while ago I worked in an office where we had this woman who was as dumb as they come. Look: I can be pretty judgemental about people, and for the record, I am incredible tough on myself more than others. I call myself "dumb ass" or "stupid" and don't to other people.

This one particular co-worker, though she was generally nice to me and everyone else--as far as I can tell--she was a complete imbecile. Forgot about the skill sets matching the job description or her attitude and disconnect between her job tasks and skills needed to do clerical work, she was just a freakin idiot. I felt bad at the time for thinking that about her. I was nice and not condescending and spoke to her as an equal. I gave her stuff to do but she didn't do it well and her attitude towards the work was terrible. Basically, she sat there and answered the phone and stapled and paper clipped. That's it. She has a kid now. Poor thing, he has some stupid genes in him. Maybe he'll be lucky and it will skip several generations.

What is it with dumb people having kids? Don't we have enough dumb people? Of course they don't really know the scale of their stupidity but can't their DNA forge a synaptic connection with common sense? A lot of them have multiple kids and then multiply that by some being poor and we have a recipe for disaster! And why is it that dumb people use Jesus and religion as a basis for intelligent talk? Having faith does not make you smart. Arguing or discussing religion particularly Christianity, and arguing over the Bible's lessons, is not interesting fodder.

I made a dentist appointment on 9/8/09 for a regular cleaning. I took the open 9/17 appointment and gave the dental assistant my name, information and requested Dr. C. She calls me on 9/15 to confirm. First, she asks if "Palmer, Matthew" was there. I said, "yes, that's me." Second, she re-confirms the wrong time with Dr. C. I'm thinking, she's over worked or dyslexic. Everything's fine. The next day, however, she calls and tells me that the doctor had an emergency and needs to reschedule. I said okay. I reiterate it's a regular cleaning and that 9/25 is fine. On 9/25/09 she calls and asks if "Palmer, Matthew" is there. I answer, "This is Matthew Palmer." She tells me that the doctor he has the flu. I said, "what do you mean, he? You mean 'she.'" She said, "no, Dr. W is sick. Dr. C only works on Tuesday and Thursday." All this time, she got my name and appointment wrong! "Fine," and I told her. I called her back to say I found another dentist. It's not worth my time and energy to communicate any further with dumb people.

When your employees are this dumb that they can't figure out a surname from a first name and a patient gets re-scheduled twice, then it's time for you to choose another professional. I worry about employers who hire dumb ass employees. What does it say about them? And, why not pay more money for someone who has greater potential and brain power? Is it an industry standard to hire dumb dental assistants? Is it an attitude we have towards menial tasks like clerical workers and kitchen staff? These jobs require different skill sets and there are plenty of people really great at it. Not everyone is a PhD or expert but we can be experts in our jobs. That includes getting names and times correct and learning more skills than stapling! And what does it say about me writing this blog entry when I'm supposed to be working at my desk! Damn hypocrite!

Does Capitalism make it all civil?

2009-09-21T19:51:00.001-07:00

Why do I have the feeling that so much of our interactions are disingenuous? I was at the post office today, and some student was so emphatic about thanking the male clerk for his help that it made me think about the societal rules that govern our interpersonal interactions. “Thank you, so much! Thank you, so much! Thank you, soooo much! Thank you, so so much!” I guess the latter would be a double-negative, the “so, so” part and it would just be as efficient to say “so much” instead. Anyway, where the fuck was I? I had just gotten there and looked at his reaction and looked over at her and thought: there was a major disconnect, between his services versus her enthusiasm. For Christ sakes, it was just a roll of stamps! Whatever! He didn’t bother to look up as she left. I thought that she was one of those pain in the ass customers, with their innumerable questions, their picky piquant demands interrupting another customer because she wants special treatment. I have no way of knowing. He was the sole clerk amid a line, ten deep. He looked miserable. Was she trying to cheer him up? Was she really thankful? She reminded me of one of those customers who always seems to be in front of you at the supermarket.

Remember the time you were running late to your relative’s house and you stopped by Ralphs on Sunset, for some Aunt Jemima syrup, some Kaiser brown foil and a pair of blunt scissors? And some old biddy, her hands shaking from Parkinson’s and knuckles bent from arthritis, was in front of you, slowly counting her change, finding more coupons, getting her shit double bagged and arguing with the cashier over the price of cat food? You were the one, behind her, tapping your foot, arms folded; face red, exhaling and sighing wondering when you’re next?

The clerk at the post office was definitely over worked and he hated his job—at least today he did. But my feeling from the customer’s inflection was this fake, disingenuous “thank you.” It said, as I am an expert interpreter of bitch language (mostly from my failed relationships) that: “I am a bitch and I know it but thank you for putting up with it, you lowly postal clerk...” Maybe I am off on my assessments but I pride myself on being a keen observer of the human condition and though I may go too far in my enthusiasm for humans who do show bright spots of generosity in between the dark episodes of maiming and raping each other, I think: Hey, I’m right on about my observation at the post office today. Look: Even Hitler was good to his wife, right? I often hear this “thank you, so much” epitaph as part of the lexicon of Los Angeleno’s dialect that I have developed my radar for this crapola.

It hails from the under paid actress cum waitress who survives on tips from the well-to-do women who seem to have it all; it comes from the crowd of yuppie pilate mom’s of Beverly Hills who just gave the valet a two dollar tip; I hear it from office workers who tell UPS-- who fucked up a delivery. Are all these banalities necessary to make our lives better? For our society to operate just above inch worms, do we really need to utter these provincial proverbial provocations? These “thank you” formalities are sound bites, filler for the undercurrent of dislike and keep us in control of our feelings so that we remain civil. We use it to convince ourselves that this interaction matters. Politeness is reinforced and for us to keep up the social interaction; our give and take constructs alive and operating so that our society remains kind. But we’re not. It is in these situations, of commerce, of dollar transactions for goods and services; we have learned to keep things civil to keep the machine going. What about the other situations?

You can see it when people ignore each other, pretend that the other is invisible when walking down a hall way or at a meeting. The uppity professor, the unfriendly co-worker. The person we “don’t know.” If the President was walking down the East Wing, and some lowly handler for Senator So and So was standing there, do you think he would ignore the President? How about the neighbor who’s barking dog is heard every night, across the street? When you approach her and tell her about it, she counters and says, “he barks a little.” You feel that your rights and comfort are secondary to a dog’s! In fact, we spend billions on dogs each year while there’s a homeless dude you walked by in Westwood last weekend, who eats worse than your neighbor’s dog. People don’t take responsibility for these interpersonal interactions because there’s no monetary association. How about the person who takes the last cookie from the corporate kitchen and does not take a quick moment to throw away the doily or put the dish in the sink? Humans are steaming turds on the sidewalk of life! This is the world we live in. If we want to build successful social constructs or ways of being nice to each other we should put a monetary value on them. Then, perhaps, the world might be more civil.

Humans find loop holes and when chance happens, they operate in their true form and these behaviors have consequences. People are wishy-washy unless there’s money associated in the transaction. Then, they’re charming and nice. I rather have those then assholes. We can monetize each behavior, make it some sort of economic interaction and reward others for being nice to each other. Like a Good Samaritan who prevents a robbery from happening or reward the person who takes the last cookie by giving her a little Peet’s coffee card. If we make each transaction, like in the post office, between customer and clerk, a real economic one, rather than the failed social ones we currently have, then we could possibly make this world more civil. Would that be disingenuous? Does Capitalism make it all civil?

Minion

2009-09-13T14:12:00.000-07:00

No disrespect to the slaves of the world but your jobs suck! Being a minion is working for the master—your overseer. Anytime your job involves booking, calling, scheduling, coordinating, organizing, reminding and purchasing…that is minion’s work. A call to arms you Slavic fools and cubicle drools! All minions cast off your modern chains of cell phones, SMS FaceBook and Twitter updates, your Myspace accounts and free yourselves.

I am a realist; almost all jobs require minion work. Most lower and some higher. It’s the lower minion class that irks me. We can be a minion to our kids or parents or loved ones—that’s fine. It’s healthy to help them. But a minion to your job is not. I would say being a minion is now a disease, like that of alcoholism. Minions are growing because the service sector (the key housing statistic of minions like me) keeps expanding, and we’ll still be in demand ten years from now when our parents are too weak to wipe their asses!

You know that movie scene in V for Vendetta when actress Natalie Portman is imprisoned and tortured by her mentor, V? She thinks the bad guys have her but the ensuing days of interrogation break her down mentally and physically until her capturer, V, thinks she has had an epiphany and suddenly releases her. She discovers, to her disgust and dismay, as well as the audience, that she’s been held in V’s cramped New York apartment all the time! What a mind fuck! Of course, at the end of the film he dies (oh! the sympathy of tears) and she cries (“I really do love him!”) and has more respect for him despite her beat down. Here’s the small analogy: being that we’re her (Portman) and our employer is him (The Vster), and at the end of the film or our day at work, we are still indoctrinated and fight and defend the status quo. Minions reject this!

V wanted her to understand the feeling of being a minion and well, she did, perhaps but we who also may gripe and grumble about the injustice of it all, are still seduced by the big, fat pay check: the rewards of servitude to the master. My paycheck is about 41,000 a year. That’s barely enough to live without a car, in a shared 3-bedroom apartment on the Westside of L.A. V wanted to start a revolution whereas your humbled and chained writer, dear reader, doesn’t. He wants to be a minion. I can’t follow or be a follower and besides the economy is expanding!

If I was a caring, Che Guevara type of revolutionary (I like him better than Mao because facial hair looks cooler than a clean shaven revolutionary face), I would gather the forces and fight. But for this minion it’s particularly discouraging and evident to me that when I do organize something revolutionary, like a simple breakfast run to the cafeteria at work; my three coworkers respectfully decline and politely say no. So, ha! to the revolution! And, if you’re not hungry for it because you’re still full from yesterday’s leftovers from the “big meeting” in which we quietly pecked at the leftovers like vultures, then you won’t go. I still picking my teeth.

Twitterland

2009-07-29T14:44:00.001-07:00

As of this month, Twitter.com is growing to become THE social media application. As one evangelist and devotee of Twitter land, or shall we call him, Mr. Twit, said, “It’s bringing the conversation to where people are. There is where the conversation is at.” Thus, if you want to be in the conversation, you must go there. In a year, they’ll move from there to over there but for now, they are there and we are over here. Hello, World?

In our great grandparent’s day, with those bobby sox and cheesy loafers, children were to be seen and not heard. At least today, in Twitterland, in full hipster regalia and huge salaries, we can now be there at the adult’s table and finally be heard.

And who doesn’t want to be there, in the conversation? Maybe your 75 year old uncle, in his black sweat pants and top, who spends too much time in the back of the video store perusing and selecting Adult movies.

Uncle reading video title: “’Wild Girls Gyrate to the Rhythm of Market Mayhem.’ Hmmm. I think I rented that one all ready…”

Maybe your dad, who lives far from there, while you keep calling him to be there with you in this new social conversation. You could invite your relatives over there, where you are, but there is not an interesting place for them. It’s here where he and your uncle want to be. At their current moment, they’re interested in why you’re interested in being over there instead over here...

(in a heavy New York Brooklyn accent) "Must you check your Twitter account whenever we’re here?” my uncle asks eating his lox and cream cheese bagel slowly.

My dad: “if you want to be here, with us, do we need to make an appointment to meet you there? Shall we Tweet you instead?”

Twitter invites us into their conversation. There, among like-minded Twits, we type our 140 character bursts, each containing important social conversation, that’s supposed to fire our imagination….

Tweet: “What’s up? Taking a poo. Gotta go!”
Tweet back: Bought some t.p. at Ralphs. So expensive!
Tweet: Obama will need lots of it to clean up this health care mess! ;)
Tweet back: http://www.doubleplytoiletpaperforhealthcare.com/. Interesting, accurate, non-partisan paper from Charmin, Inc on how to wipe this healthcare mess from forward to back without the helping hands of constipated republicans.
Tweet: I just blew it up, man. Ba-bam, ba-bomb! Guy in stall next to me…poor choking slob… could use some double ply paper action. Only one wipe, my friend?

Our Twitter conversations have really moved from the kiddy’s table since our great grandfather’s time. Until then, I’ll see you there!!

Swimming with the fishes...

2009-07-21T16:51:00.000-07:00

This is not about poo. It’s not about vomit. Or the feeling you have when you scrap off the road kill from your car tires; it could be the same, if you read on. It’s about bugs. Big, ugly creatures created to give us the feeling and justification that we are the superior beings in the food chain on this planet! Bugs are the kind of vermin you secretly fear will find a home in your shoes or hidden under your blankets when you jump into bed to sleep off the wine you drank too much during dinner.

Last night I took the bus home. As usual, it was crowded and congested with smells and odors that stick to your clothes. Whenever I get home, I change out of my military wear of jeans and dress shirt, immediately. Sometimes I notice the “Bus Butt,” that waif of odor that clings to your cotton denim jeans which a good wash eliminates.

One time I saw a bug on the Big Blue Bus. It happens. It’s a jungle in there. People droppings and such. Another time, on the Chicken Bus, in Guatemala, a couple brought their hen on board and placed it above them in the open luggage compartment, feet tied. Later, during a particular thorny section of road, the hen crowed or whatever they do, and a steady stream of urine bounced off the farmer’s straw hat.

After a nice dinner last night, we sat on the couch in our civilian wear of pajamas and tee shirts. The sun had already set. As the night became cooler, the fan in the living room spewed forth a nice cool breeze of West Los Angeles air; not too smoggy. Watching Season Five of the Sopranos, I got distracted by something crawling on the floor. It was a gigantic grass hopper! It was huge! I was excited. I haven’t seen one since I lived in Long Island, with a real back yard and sand pile. There were always cool bugs there. Like a Tony Soprano dream sequence when he realizes that his best friend was flipped by the FBI, I realized too, that the bug’s body shape was completely wrong and I saw the ugly truth unfold before me as he ran. It was a cock roach.

What happened next was from any Sopranos’ episode, take your pick. We both jumped up and like a gang initiation gone bad, beat it up with our slippers and shoes. I gave it a few more whacks, Soprano style. I guess we went crazy. Blood and guts oozed forth as it tried to limp away. We pinned him down and shouted at him with our obligatory New Jersey-ian Italian accented profanity: get the F!#@$!# out of here, or you’re dead! I guess we missed the Sopranos episode where the guy actually is allowed to walk away; not this roach. He dead. He is swimming with the fishes.

Pregnancy and social mores

2009-07-17T14:56:00.000-07:00

“I see pregnant women,” I told my girl friend. Young, twenty somethings, bellies full, ankles swollen and bladders working over time. They walk to and from the rest room, by my office, sometimes their skin is sullen and other times a pinkish glow. Recently, I counted six co-workers gimping along ready to burst forth their little bean out of the watery warm womb of blood, protein and that alien-like viscous birth fluid. I think about the baby’s world, floating on their placenta Lazy Boy, remote in hand. Every day is Sunday football…I can remember it well. Maybe all baby’s know what that familiar banging sound they hear when mommy and daddy are getting busy? Maybe their hearts race a little fast too when mommy is upset because daddy doesn’t want mommy to breast feed their son?

These women are in their prime birth years. Their careers are on a path, they’ve met "the man of their dreams" and now they are ready. At this age they are really just baby machines: progenitors of the next generation out of some biological selfish drive, burdening society with their off spring, some of which will maim and others which will do good. When couples copulate, they don’t think about it. This world of ignorant ideologues, barbaric practices and arrogant war mongers. But…children are beautiful, even little Adolf Schicklgruber was cute. His mom loved him too.

Never ask women if they’re pregnant.

Some recently gained a lot of weight. Others, whose pregnant bellies protruding forth, may elect not to keep it or carry with them, a familial history of false, as in “oops,” starts or rotten genetic finishes. Jesus. The formalities we carry out just to keep the outer appearances propped up and alive.

A while ago I noticed a co-worker’s sparse collection of manicured and pedicured carrot and celery sticks had multiplied, along with her weight. In breaking a social more, I asked:

“Are you pregnant?” Instead, of an answer, I got a blank, stoic stare. And later, in falsetto like indignation, I overheard her telling her co-workers of my social faux pas.

“I can’t believe he asked me that!” she said incredulously, rubbing her stomach.

“He’s so insensitive,” another quipped.

“Did you pick out a name yet?” the third chirped in.

About two and a half months later, she finally told everyone. We all feigned surprise! “Really, you’re pregnant? Wow,” they said in a high pitched voice with a wide-open mouth and expression-filled eyes. Except me, I sat darkly in my corner cubicle, because, (in one of those big, polished radio announcer voices): I am the EVIL ONE.

After she left to delivery her healthy daughter from the warm clutches of the baby remote and placenta lazy boy, I covered her desk. She was breast feeding and eating carrot sticks while I did the work of two people. And, did the kid thank me? No. Did my co-worker forgive me for my awkward question? No, probably not. Now…How are we supposed to ignore the “elephant in the room?”

In case you have a pregnant co-worker or someone you know has some sort of physical ailment that you can’t talk about, you can practice this politically correct moment when they reveal to everyone, when it’s safe and okay to do so, their very obvious condition:

Step One. Please feign surprise. It helps to say “really.”

Step Two. Use a high pitched voice, with a wide-open mouth and eyes filled with wonder and amazement when receiving the news, and lastly;

Step three: Say: “This blog piece is over?”

Fake nails

2009-07-17T09:19:00.000-07:00

Ever since I’ve been living with my gf, I’ve been eating yogurt ice cream once a week. It’s good! Never before would I venture into those yogurt shops that, during the 1980’s in Los Angeles, were in business like crack dealers on every corner. The new dealers on the block are: Pinkberry, Yoku Yoku, Penguins, Red Mango, TCBY, Frugos and the like. They are here again with new flavors, pretty furniture and “healthier” toppings.

Last night me and my gf shared a chocolate and a French vanilla yogurt topped with mango. As in most franchises, they hire young high school kids. This one had long, curved fake nails painted with black and white spotted dots, the kind of Rorschach pattern you see on the cows from Ben and Jerry’s ice cream pints. Imagine her trying to squeeze a zit or pick up a glass of water with those?

In between spoons of the low fat substance, my gf said that fake nails are not good for food service positions especially in the kitchen. They limit your ability to handle a knife or hold plates. While I pondered this and the fat / sugar content of our medium sized yogurt--and wondered if I should be eating ice cream instead--the high school kid dropped a glass on the floor. You could hear the sharp pieces of glass bouncing off the off-white tile. She was right.

Long, fake nails are only practical for swinging down a pole in Vegas and or giving a BJ in a porno.

The weighing of compliments

2009-07-15T16:55:00.000-07:00

The other day, a co-worker named E, a fellow writer and a brother of the grape, said I had writing talent. Coming from a professional screen writer and producer, someone who has produced a film, written over a dozen screen plays, was a really nice thing to hear. I said thanks. This compliment made me reflect on how society and I, receive and give these poo tokens of appreciation. Both Yanne and Kelly have given me compliments about some of my posts here. (Thank you guys, again. I press my hands in front of me, humbled like the Buddha himself, to form a prayer of thanks). So, what's the poo about? Aren't all compliments good, Palmer?

In our society, they are given--few and far between-- like the number of life preservers available to passengers on a sinking boat. So, in general, I am somewhat suspicious when I receive them and probably they're received with the same sort of incredulous blankness when I give them.

Can’t we just relax?

When compliments are given from people who are held in high regard in an area of expertise, then they're "true" compliments. Like Jimi Hendrix telling Eric Clapton he plays well. Like Bob Marley telling Tommy Chong that his stash went up in smoke. Do you notice the implicit hierarchies?

When they come from mere acquaintances, like your dorky co-worker, you know, the guy who microwaves left over fish every day, they are received as brown-nosing, noise or flirting. I think our culture trains us to be suspicious of compliments. Maybe it’s from our pilgrim origins of self-reliance and independence and our Max Weber-ian Protestant Work Ethic which we self-deprecate when faced with a public display of complimentary poo. I have no idea what the hell that means, but WTF. Besides, our ears, are highly tune to bull shit--because our society generates so much of it—and this critical filter is so sensitive that even, non-agenda, heartfelt and genuine compliments are wiped away like poo on paper.

I think you can never take a compliment from coworkers. There are always hidden agendas. Especially those who occupy a lateral payroll title like you, in the corporate hierarchy. Their compliments always come off as disingenuous especially if you don’t like them. If the person telling you was a hot chick, then it would be flirtatious. If the person talking to you said your talk with the Dean was thoughtful, then he or she is seeking more information from you. With compliments, it is always better to receive them from your boss—someone above you in the corporate tree—it doesn’t work the other way.

Compliments from friends and significant others, however, and unfortunately, cannot be as highly valued as the disinterested employer simply because, in our culture, they are from people who have an emotional bond and will have a hard time being objective. Name me one employer who would take a letter of reference from your mom? Of course we love compliments from our friends and loved ones. But we don’t have the same vestment as we seek from our peers.

Strangers and those who know your work ethic have no emotional commitment or attachment and offer the most accurate compliments. These are the people who are supposed to know the bottom line of your strengths and weaknesses and reward you accordingly. As a society we are really jaded about compliments. Would the building custodian really know about that Excel spreadsheet you created which was used in the final quarterly report?

When you're a super star bball player, for example, people love you and your talents, so compliments fly like poo from the proverbial fan. After hearing them a lot, they lose meaning. But in the hierarchy of life, a compliment coming from Michael Jordan, a hall of famer, as opposed to that spasmodic dude you see on the bball court, carries more weight and credence.

So thank you all for the compliments. They are not poo to me.

Electronic foot prints

2009-07-13T16:36:00.000-07:00

People in this city are afraid of each other but not of leaving their electronic foot prints. Last night, after class, dressed in my $100 black leather hipster boots, wearing my $20 Ross blue jeans and a preppy, $12 Docker checkered dress shirt, I walked casually across the campus reveling in the feeling of being a student in a classroom again. Thinking about my home work assignment for next week and carrying a nike back pack, my contstant companion for the last 30,000 miles, the campus was peaceful, empty and beautiful.

As I waited at the bus stop near the campus bookstore, the darkness and shadow played upon us. Each person became suspect-- our senses heightened, pupils dilating-- preparing for an attack. Even though my body position at the bus stop bench was not in anyone’s direct path, it did not make others at ease. Students in dyads, walking by, talking loudly, or the solo ones yapping cheerfully like chip monks on their cells, shot hesitant glances sideways, a familiar neurological flare of self-preservation. The kid who rode up on his bicycle, talking to himself, singing—and both, shot his kickstand down, reached into his pocket to pull out a cig to smoke before the bus ride home. His hooligan features were suspect: dressed in the style of now of low slung jeans, an urban shoulder gait of tough-like posturing and tattoo arms hiding beneath his extra large, blue hoodie. Perhaps, people should be scared living in L.A.

Almost every male in Los Angeles, is a potential victimizer, fueled by a conscious-- and perhaps driven by—a subconscious rage. Where does this anger come from? We are constantly bullied by the media with their incessant barrage showing us the inequities between the rich and famous and the rest of us, helping to create a victim-like passive persona. We hurt but we show up smiling at the podium anyway. We hide in our cars behind air bags but have road rage. We hide in the open listening to our mp3 players, watching videos drowning out the cell phone conversations around us. We ignore others, even in the same room. Our physical reaction to all of this: become harden, untrusting, suspicious and discontent. We want money, attention and sometimes fame. The media, acting indignant, shows us how we lack these things others have and we wonder why we feel this constant ire. The media are the dope dealers of our world but we hide in our electronic foot prints.

As a society we don’t think about this being an issue. We are inculcated already; it all is normal. Our heightened senses when self-preservation is threatened are a natural reaction to the repetitions of fear. Once you have lived in another city or country where crime rates are low, you may realize that the life you had led has prevented you in becoming more human and vulnerable. Here, in the big digital lie, we avoid others while an electronic community surrounds us in its computer fan generated growth. People we interact with are now invisible and when an analog exchange between flesh and bone occurs , we act surprised or even afraid. Paradoxically, our internet lives are rich and dynamic.

Today, we lead public lives on private networks, often disclosing personal and intimate information, but this comfortable feeling navigating and communicating online with friends and others, is a façade. The electronic foot prints you leave behind follow you forever and our natural self preservation from attack is canceled. But your identity can be stolen, your personal preferences noted and your life tracked. Your acquaintances scorned by your privacy settings on your Face Book “wall.” The friendships networked and forged online are steeped in deception and hidden agendas. We want to be popular and cool so we compete for being first with new information. We create new things so that we defend against obsolescence. We get in touch with old friends only to re-vive the scars that didn’t heal. We use our electronic foot prints to cover, track and over-compensate from our past wrongs done to others. An electronic band aid, anyone?

After the excitement of reuniting fades, your feelings of insecurity come forward; comparing their achievements with yours—soon this curiosity and connection to him or her is dropped or blocked by a filter activated by you. The 3,000 relationships in your electronic footprint are not trust worthy: only the “s” on the end of “http” is, just maybe, for a while.

Dreams don't come true

2009-06-04T12:22:00.001-07:00

I was in a cafe or restaurant with Yanne and this punk-ass kid in his 20's, wearing an 80's style Gap green and orange (?), horizontal-striped shirt, (remember those polo style shirts from their 80's catalog?) decides that he doesn't like me. He says something threatening and then pushes me slightly backward. He is small, thin and aggressive. I know I can kick his ass. Instead, I walk back to my table and reach for my cell phone to call the police. As I am on the phone describing the incident, Yanne is concerned and asking me what is going on. Looking up, the punk is standing in front of me. I ask the 911 operator to hold, casually tell Yanne I will talk to her in a second, and briefly make eye contact with the punk but look past him. He continues walking to the back of the restaurant. I woke up from this dream around 5:50am.

On the bus this morning, around 7am, it's pretty full. I like sitting in the front but there are no seats. I walk towards the back and spot an empty aisle seat. As I approach, there's a kid who is using his leg to block the seat. I wave my hand to motion entry and when I sit down, I turn and look. This punk ass kid is wearing a Gap polo shirt with green and black horizontal stripes! Weird! He is small and thin. I've never seen him before. I remember the dream from earlier. I put on my headphones and listen to NPR. It was a nice bus ride. The end.

The snake

2009-06-02T17:06:00.001-07:00

Hello blog readers. My dad's (Bob) mortal fears are snakes and dying of carbon monoxide. When he moved into his new house last year, he had his gas stove replaced with an electric one. And keeps a wooden Moses-like staff in his bedroom to kill visiting snakes and bible wielding Christians.

He lives in a small rural town and adjacent to his home, is a run-down trailer park; the kind that have torn and dirty curtains hanging from the windows. One day, in his absentmindedness, he left the back screen door open. While he was watching TV, a snake sneaked in. Well, so he thought. He discovered the door ajar and lived in mortal fear of snakes for two weeks. Luckily, no snake appeared. He carefully checked whole house, every day, while holding his Moses stick in hand. By the way, he does have a long, flowing white beard.

Well, last week, at the early 3am hour, when even mice sleep, he felt a smooth body crawl next to his leg. He jumped out of bed and ran down the stairs. When he re-gained his composure and looked around to make sure no one heard his girly 14 year old scream, he went upstairs and grabbed his Moses staff to kick some snake butt...but no snake! I guess his scream scared him off.

He spent the next 24 hours awake, unable to sleep, sitting on his living room couch. He left me several dramatic phone messages throughout the day, keeping me abreast of his lack of sleep and his imprisonment in his home.

The first message went something like this: "Matthew....(long pause, throat clearing) it's your papa....There's a snake in my home. I can't sleep, I am dying..." (sound of the receiver being lazily dropped onto the base).

The second message, a few hours later: "Matthew, my son...I've been up for 24 hours. I can't sleep in my bedroom. The snake will eat me! I might die from lack of sleep. I'm too tired to sleep. I am a prisoner in my own house. A prisoner..." (his voice fades, the receiver is sloppily hung up, probably up-side down).

After a couple of encouraging phone calls from me and my brother, he fell asleep on the couch down stairs, clutching his companion, Moses, in his dry arthritic hand. The next day he called a snake and rodent removal expert. He called the man three times asking for his arrival time. The man arrived and looked. Nothing. No snake. That visit cost him $125.

In the meantime, I did some research online and found that cats are excellent deterrents against snakes. My dad was not encouraged. The snake expert laid two traps consisting of live mice and for over a week, the mice sat helpless in the trap, whimpering softly and slowly dying of starvation. If only that stupid snake appeared again and ate the mice! Was he imagining it? Hmm. After the rodent removal man left, my dad took action and purchased an army style cot and placed it in the bathroom.

A week of sleeping in the bathroom, with the lights on and the army style cot hurting his gentle back, and the snake still did not appear. My dad lived in fear and could not sleep in his bed until he was sure the snake was dead.

Since he has no other life than to call and torment his sons with his snake updates, he paid a contractor $1,300 to build a partition around his bed in his bedroom. The wall goes from the floor to the ceiling and seals in his bed preventing snakes from rooming with him. Picture a room inside a room and that's his new bedroom. He can see out the window but in order to enter his bed, he must open a separate door that is inside his bedroom! He's crazy! At least he can sleep.

The live traps are gone. The snake never came back. They come into homes via small cracks, much like mice do, and look for room and food. Was there really a snake? Last week he drove home and was parking his car, when a little kid from one of the run-down trailers ran up to his car yelling, "Mister, mister....a snake, a snake in my yard!" My dad ran to his house and got Moses from the bedroom. It took him a while because when opening and closing his bedroom door, he made sure he didn't allow any snakes to enter his new partitioned-off room within a room, and ran back to the kid who already sought help with another neighbor.

When my dad arrived with his wooden stick, the other neighbor brought a shot gun. There, on a tree, resting in the warmth of the sun, was a black snake. The kids yelled, "The snake, the snake!" My dad felt powerless as the the neighbor fired and killed it. He turned to him and said in a sarcastic tone, "There's your snake, Bob!" Yes, reader. There's his $1,425 snake, dead, in the tree.

Our hunter and gatherer society

2009-05-22T13:28:00.000-07:00

My friend Sharona has an instinct for free food. She is the new kind of hunter that has left the prehistoric forest and entered the urban gatherer society. Like Sharona, we drive to Ralphs, gather our food, go home and microwave it. Today’s hunter uses GPS and the combustion engine to find and gather. Our food is cleaned, cooked and sanitized. We no longer have to fight the four elements to gather our food supply. Instead, we maneuver our soft bodies through the urban landscape of parking lots, supermarkets and use sanitizers to clean off the ink from Sunday's coupon section. In our current state of work, Sharona is the new face of the organizational onion: She is the Tribal Leader of hunting down food.

Here’s an excerpt of a captured communication link between her and her hunter and gathering guard. Thanks to the Ray “Huang” and his magic pinky ring, we were able to intercept this secured email conversation and have a close up view of real time hunting and gathering in the work force.

Sharona: This is Tribe Leader One calling all available scouts. What are your positions? Come in, please. (static sound...)

Kelly: Ah, Tribe Leader…(static,) this is Kelly Unit over here in Collins Sector A dash Four Sixteen. (static sound) We are all green with salad and good to go in ten.

Sharona: Roger that Kelly. Please identify free food for rescue…

Kelly: Roger, Tribe Leader. Dianthia in K Sector had a visual of some Noah’s bagels in Gold Section 2 dash fiver with some possible garlic cream cheese south at the 6 o’clock position.

Sharona: Roger that Kelly. Can you secure the area from MBA’s by O eight hundred (0800)?

Kelly: That’s a negative. We have some MBAs and Profs milling around the coffee spigot.

Sharona: Hmm. Roger that, Collins Sector. The master room schedule has their departure over. Could you push for emergency exit?

Kelly: Ah, negative Tribe Leader. We have several Big Wigs collecting damaged goods for return to home base in Sector C dash 4 Sixteen.

Sharona: Roger that Kelly. On my count, send work study cub, Sam, for some scouting and clean up duty; that should get the ball rolling and bagels bagged. I’m hungry!

Kelly: Roger that Team leader. Cub Sam on his way for reconnaissance and push with show of force. ETA of goods at 0811, Over and out.

When I met the Galaga God...

2009-05-01T14:53:00.001-07:00

Yes, it happened this week at SEAS Café in the Math Sciences building at UCLA. I bought my Diet Dr. Pepper—which tastes like shit—when I heard that warm, familiar sound of Galaga. He was sitting on one of those inconspicuous metal stools with the cheesy plastic seat covering, killing the bees and wasps of Galaga. I watched his hands deftly move the lever, left to right, right to left, avoiding the barrage of bullets from the enemy. For past eight months that I’ve consistently played Galaga, my highest score has been 97,000. Even when Kelly and I play Galaga on occasion and pour quarters down it's thirsty throat, our total scores don't match the prowess of Galaga God. I watched Galaga God rack up half of his 167,000-- all on one quarter!

“It’s very relaxing to me,” he said to me in his clipped Asian accent afterward, as his last ship died it's ugly pixel death. His UCLA tee-shirt was a little wrinkled. You could imagine him working in one of those student-run engineering labs tucked away in one of those remote corners of the Math Science building.

“It’s a very simple game, really.” He continued.

“Who scored 292,000?” I asked.

“Oh, last week I beat that…” he replied, humbly motioning to the video machine.

“Wow! You got 296,000?”

“Yes, now I will go for 300,000.” With that he walked away. And with that the humble Galaga God, in his monk-like way, has instilled in me hope for breaking 100,000 points, on a quarter!

A Friend of the Poo--guest blog blurb

2009-04-20T12:17:00.000-07:00

I just added a new feature to a View from the Poo, called, A friend of the Poo. We will feature guest readers' blurbs on a weekly basis. So, if you're interested, and have written some good stuff, please submit a piece of your poo or commentary to me.

Now, sit back, read, enjoy, rejoice and empathize from a fellow blog reader...

We went to the Landmark and saw "State of Play" and I swear, I could write a guest post on your blog about the experience. The man sitting next to me actually burped out loud at least 5 if not more times, in addition to sucking popcorn out of his teeth, clearing his throat, moving around in his seat and hitting my leg with his foot. (Those very comfortable and roomy seats were not enough for this man, he needed to invade my space as well.) Oddly enough, I believe he was at the movie with a woman (he spoke during the movie several times to her) and I think they were married. I thought that the Landmark would be too high-end for this kind of riffraff, but I guess not. I have very acute hearing so all of the noise that this man made during the movie was very frustrating, to say the least. I wanted to say something to him, but what do you say to a middle-aged man who has no manners? I didn't want to cause a commotion in the theater or get Kenny involved, either. SIGH. I was really waiting for him to lift his leg and let out a really loud, smelly fart!!!!

Snot Shields

2009-04-16T16:01:00.007-07:00

I remember my grandfather sitting on the black, vinyl recliner in my dining room, reading his Newsday newspaper, the TV on, spewing the news for many hot New York Sunday afternoons. I think all of us have those grandfatherely memories like some sort of sick Matrix memory installed from the evil bots. My grandfather is not alive these days because of the Matrix.

He was old then, his hair grey and his ears, large and bent. Why is it that old white men get huge ears when they grow older? Our noses too! During those hot summer afternoons when he sat and read for hours, he would pick his nose. Maybe he thought I couldn't see him behind the newspaper? Now, as a 40 year man, I too pick my nose. I do this in private. We all do, right? But what is it about getting older that we pick our noses more and more? For me, it's an inverse relationship between that and farting. I actually fart less but I have no one to vouch for that except me and would you trust a nice nose picker like me? If you fart a lot, then, the law states, you don't pick you nose that often. Please observe your farting and nose picking habits, kind reader and you'll see why this is a law!

In New York, when the summer is hot and you feel like you're in a pizza oven, you breathe in lots of dirty, humid air. As a result, you get these enormous Snot Shields. They must be one inch in diameter!! You could defend your family with these green sticky shields. En garde you evil bots!

In Los Angeles, it's rare to have such girth and weight to your snot but on occasion, you can pull one out, full of nose hair like one of those rubber cement balls you made as a kid--and dropped on the floor--picking up dust and dirt.

These days my hair line is receding making my face look long and oval like a horse. As the law of inverse relationship states, when your hair recedes your nose hair grows...my nose hairs are getting longer! Sometimes those Snot Shields grab nose hairs! They're like sharp swords! En garde you evil bots.

I really wished that my grandfather shared with me the secrets of snot. All those Sundays he sat and read, picking away at his bulbous nose, when he could have been instructing me on Snot Shields.

Summer is approaching fast and that means snot. So, when you're reading the Sunday paper on a hot, summer afternoon, and you're lazily digging for gold, pick up the phone and call your grandfather and ask him. Be sure to tell him that you love him and ask him about his fights against the evil bots.

Korean Waffles--total munchie food

2009-04-13T16:56:00.011-07:00

Over the past weekend I made Suwon style Korean Waffles. These were as good, if not, better than the waffles you get at the food court next to the Coffee Bean in HomePlus. Not that those are bad. Suwon sells these waffles in every large department store, with some exceptions. I know this because I've spent days riding my bicycle, drinking coffee and eating 500 waffles in six months.

Korean waffles are: large, round and hot, spread with some whipped cream on one side, while the other, clover honey is drizzled down from some middle aged ajuma (older lady) wearing a chef's white uniform. After the condiments are added, the waffle is served, folded in half. All for a buck ($1). Cheap and good. This is total munchie food. Can you imagine? Yum!

On Saturday I bought some fresh heavy cream, whipped it up, added some sugar, vanilla and a teaspoon of dark rum, bought some Trader Joe's wheat-free waffles, and for Palmer style variation, added some maple syrup. Instead of serving the waffles folded, I cut them into quarters. You can use honey or maple syrup; it's up to you. Delicious.

Maple Bear Suwon--from bad to worse?

2009-04-09T12:19:00.006-07:00

I hear through the grape vine that Maple Bear in Suwon is turning into a real Korean hogwan by churning out teachers. Part of the bad rap Korea gets from many ex-pats is that the school owners are dishonest and work you like dogs. This is true. If you are thinking about going to teach there or in Japan, do your research! Before I left L.A. I did my research and choose Maple Bear but I learned that you never really get the full cover of things until you live and work there.

Now my sources say there are more parent-teacher meetings and more bull shit then ever at Suwon's Maple Bear. Though the curriculum is well developed and good for incorporating ideas/projects into your own lesson plans, it is too difficult and unreasonable to implement sequentially due to the huge differences in the English speaking abilities of the kids and the school's rigid insistence of following the curriculum as outlined exactly in the books.

When I was there, parents got mad and complained incessantly to the Director if your class was not in sync with the curriculum and the other kinder classes taught by other ESL teachers. Now, the Korean Director will get mad if you jump forward in the curriculum from the books they provide. If you ever taught ESL, you would understand that native 3rd graders in the States have a huge language base than 3rd or even 5th graders in Korea. It is unreasonable to use the vast curriculum they developed in the West to teach the kids in the East at the same pace and level the school dictates. It sounds like things in Suwon are more uncomfortable than ever.

About seven months ago, before I left, they recruited a new male teacher who found out about Maple Bear from one of the other teacher's blog. I am still trying to figure out if he didn't ask her right questions or she really PR'd him into thinking it was an excellent hogwan for the $300 referral fee. Later, I heard it was $100. In any case, if you compare Suwon's Maple Bear with other hogwans, it's pretty good. The owner is accommodating and from what I've experienced, a good person. Whatever rules and regulations that come down the pipe line from Canada and the new director, however, must be hell.

You determine your time

2009-04-08T12:38:00.013-07:00

Yes, we determine how we spend our time on this here planet. My theory is: if you have money, lots of it, you spend less time on the mundane, and more on the meat. I do not mean to belittle the chores of life, which for me are sometimes nice and relaxing, but if I had a personal cook I took everywhere, like Tim Barrack, a live-in maid like my high school friend, Seth Kupchick, or a nanny or two like the rich do, time would open up for me and bleed slowly like an overdose on hemoglobin!

I am waiting for that day when laundry and dishes is done by my illegal Oaxacan maid; my food is cooked to exact nutritional standards by my on-board traveling CIA chef, and my shopping done by my personal assistant slave.

Last night I waited 40 minutes to be seated at Fritto Misto in Santa Monica. It's a yuppie style restaurant over on Colorado Ave and 6th that serves up California Italian cuisine. It was 8pm on a Tuesday night and the line was deep!! Our chances of finding a comparable restaurant at 8:30pm in L.A. was not too good; these west coast types get scared about having fun past 7pm. When there's a line, this usually stops me but it was a special night which didn't stop any of us Westsiders from queuing up for 40 minutes for a plate of $14.50 pasta. If I had lots of money, I would have eaten at a really expensive restaurant where they have "stand-ins" for those queing up outside.

If I was an android I would not require food or sleep and other secondary things like pooing. This blog is about poo so it makes sense to talk about the benefits of not pooing. Think about all that time we spend eating and pooing and sleeping. That's like half our lives! I know if we lived on Mars, those problems would be solved.

If we didn't eat, we wouldn't have all those pig farms in North Carolina pooing up the riverbeds. We would have enough switchgrass to grow in the fields to burn in our ethanol engines, we wouldn't need $1,200 spring mattresses to sleep or work eight hour days...we could spend more time fucking too. We can't become androids but we can determine how we spend our time.

The Big Blue Bus...is calling us...

2009-04-07T14:12:00.002-07:00

Palmer here, reporting from the stinkin bowls of the big blue bus. Last night, I almost went postal with the stench, the stop and go, and the noise of our most beloved and infamous big blue bus, the one immortalized by jim morrision of the doors. And a side note here, Jim Morrison and the Doors are over played and over rated! If “Jim” (using quotes because our culture makes him bigger than he really was) could only could see the improvements! The big blue bus...is calling us...

Last night, Palmer in the Poo was close to making a huge scene; an ugly embarrassing roar of a fuss...on the bus. You know the kind, when you’re tired and frustrated and you yell at the uneducated and uninspired clerk at the 99 cent store—we know you Westsiders have nothing else to do, so, own up to it! Fools!

I’m sitting there, hot and sweaty next to the window. The bus is filling up and the air is dead. Every minute or so, a disgusting smell waifs across my left side reeking of halitosis and some other undefined funk. Thankfully the air circulates when we’re in motion but not enough for us to alleviate our feelings of being like roast chicken in the metal oven of the old number 12.

Pretty soon I spot trouble: an old lady of about 70 slowly walking by and seats herself across from me. The Chinese lady next to me is eyes closed and meditating. Om! Within a minute the old lady takes out her 90’s style slim cell phone and calls someone. You know what, blog readers? Every day I fantasize about hearing an elaborate and articulate phone discussion of anything, but instead, I always get the opposite: a hard of hearing old bitty yelling into her cell phone at a pronouncedly slow and slurred rate about something mundane. It’s excruciating! It’s painful, like being constipated and sitting on the toilet for twenty minutes; you legs fall asleep and you sit there, squeezing and squeezing until your eyelids become swollen and sweat forms on your chest. It’s so hot in that damn stall, that you have to open up your dress shirt and take deep, slow yoga breathes just to pinch that puppy out! Yows-za!

Everyone on the bus just starred at the old bitty. I was already plugged into the radio and my ear drums bled. The Chinese lady next to me concentrated w/ some Zen like composure while the stench, the stop and go and the noise ebbed and flowed like blood in a syringe left to drip on the sidewalks of Skid Row. It’s times like these when I yearn for the buses of Korea! So fast and efficient and clean and quiet. They are a quantum leap from the big blue bus jim morrision sang about stoned out of his mind forty years ago. Maybe if I lit up a big fat one, and passed it around, my bus ride improve. Until next time, this is the view from the poo, riding north to UCLA.

Cell phone etiquette

2009-03-30T15:01:00.003-07:00

It's 7:30 in the morning. Why are people yapping away on their cells? These are not movers and shakers of industry. And what the hell could they be talking about for a solid 30 minutes? Nothing, of course. Nothing.

Whenever I take the blue bus number 12, I always wind up seated near someone who is yapping loudly on their cell phone or whips it out just to bother me. Yep. It’s the cell phone versus Palmer! It happens 80 percent of the time.

This morning, for example, two SMC chicks with the same greasy hair-do are seated in the front of the bus yapping away on their separate cells. For me, if I was listening to one of them on the receiver, I would probably be totally confused by the background noise of the bus and the other cell phone conversation. Anyways, I had spotted those yappers quickly enough to find a seat towards the back. However, as I am settling in, the passenger across the aisle has conspicuously switched ears and is now talking quietly on her cell. Shit! I missed that! And you know it’s bad when their switch ears! That means a long-ass cell phone conversation and my quiet bus ride is a shambles like the pot-holed roads of L.A.

By now the bus is moving and the area I am in, doesn’t smell too bad, so I resign and settle, boot up my ear buds and listen to KCRW’s NPR news. However, during those quiet lulls on the number 12, when the bus is waiting for the signal to change and KCRW’s Michelle Norris’ manicured voice pauses for a deep breath, that cell phone conversation to my right sounds like a roar. Luckily, by now we’re at Pico and Westwood Boulevard where most SMCers depart to catch the blue bus number 7. I eye a nice seat in front and just as I make my move, someone quickly gets up and grabs it. Shit! Being Palmer on the Bus, however, I always have a blue bus back up seat plan, and casually move to another open slot and settle down again. Fortunately, it smells much better up front and that lady is not audible from here.

It’s either the yapping of the cell phone people or the stink of the hobo which drive me crazy on the bus. Luckily, those homeless stinkers are still sleeping at 7:15am so the number 12 has a limited supply of them unlike the like the Culver City line number 6 which has every sort of gross machination of human trouble and cadence. And, you have to stand for the whole ride!

Life on the big blue bus sucks. All you out there, yea relish your drive to work in a bundled mass of metal and gas. Yer he safe from the sounds and smells of the CNG buses. I revel in your wholesomeness. Your clean pants not soiled with stain and smell of some hobo who was scratching his nut sack for 30 minutes. Your stereo, oh, so loud and proud as it belts out the melodic voices of KCRW, like a fine pedigree dog, best in show. A coat, thick with fat and shiny like oil. Yes, I envy you now but just know your car ride, though superior, won’t be great forever. Soon, all of us, en mass will ride on the bus together, holding hands singing Kum Bah Ya. For now, I am going to buy a decent, lite pair of over-the-ear headphones to block out the noise!

The Girl Scouts clogged my toilet!

2009-03-25T14:44:00.001-07:00

Months have passed since our December “Holiday” parties which are thinly disguised Christmas events made politically correct, when we celebrate other cultures while wearing traditional green and red, saying to each other: “Happy Holidays.” To them I reply: Happy Jesus Hanukah Kwanzaa Fucking Christmas!

Anyways, our office workers have thankfully thinned out since the departing gifts of See’s chocolates and home-made baked yummies. Americans get so big and fat each December thanks to the extreme amount of cookies and sweets we shove into our pie holes. Just when you think you’ve finally lost those ten extra holiday pounds, and your new diet and exercise regime has toned your fat asses, we get assaulted by cute little girls pushing their product: Girl Scout Cookies. Yes, yes, yes… those addictive cookies are available on street corners for $4.00 a box. I love their Thin Mints! I eat them alone, and don’t like to share. Don't you dare take a Thin Mint cookie! I got some video cams on them too. Can't you see me hiding in the kitchen? In the dark, my girl friend calling out my name and me, making rat like sounds eating Thin Mints? They’re like crack to me! I don’t know what they put in those cookies, but when I run out, I rob and maim innocents just to get my Thin Mint fix. And why do they call them Thin Mints? I eat boxes of them! Watch out Fatsos!!

Last week a dozen little brownies set-up a big cookie sale on my corner. Late in the day those drug pushers, after “getting high on their supply,” asked to use my bathroom. Those little girls jammed my toilet bowl with their prolific poo! Would you expect anything else from eating cookies all day? They must have used 12 rolls of 2-ply toilet paper and 36 of those moist babies wipes to clean their anuses. Or is it “ani?” You know, multiple anus-es? Jesus. My bathroom paint cracked and peeled and my nose hair fell out!

Well, to be fair and honest, I made the story up. I clogged the toilet. I blame the girl scouts though. I tell you all that I am not ashamed of eating one Thin Mint cookie column without milk the night before. It took me two minutes. I couldn’t stop eating the thin mints. The next day, I had a prolific poo of gargantuan size and output. I think I lost like four pounds of excrement. I sat on the porcelain throne for 25 minutes squeezing out those thin mints. Jesus. My eyes went "chinese" and shit. Who would of thought that those cool mint cookies would burn? I must have passed out from exhaustion because I blanked on “courtesy flushing.” And we didn’t have a plunger either!

I flushed like a mad man, but those half dollar size poo nuggets would sink to the bottom like a dead surfer and clog the exit. Luckily, there was a long, plastic tube, the kind that attaches to those snap-on style plastic roll-away carts you can buy at Ikea. I used the tube and churned my poo into butter until it was flotsam. Another flush or two I said good bye to two dozen cookies!

Like the French who turned their backs on their Jews during WWII, never again will I eat copious amounts of Thin Mints. No, never again will I succumb to egregious amounts of Thin Mint cookies in one sitting. Never again...until next March when those little cookie Fuhrer's return! Heil to the Girl Scouts!

Hierarchy and self-importance

2009-03-10T16:56:00.012-07:00

The other day I passed an "above scale" university professor in the hall way. He was obviously in a hurry but when I said "hello" and made eye contact, he didn't respond. He knows me very very well; I am not a stranger. His actions though they may be innocuous, made me feel invisible. If I was the Dean or a professor of his "scale" or caliber, I would have received a nod, a hello or even eye contact in return. But this is academia, and the professors are the university and administrative assistants like me, are treated like disposable line items on the left side of the accounting ledger.

Here in the world of academia, there are "ladders" or "steps" which professors earn through years of teaching and service, grant money they bring in from their research, good quality of publications, recognition by peers and now, a host of private organizations which contribute money towards their research or university infrastructure. If professors want something to happen, they make it so. However, if you're under the academia pecking order, you have small chances of promoting change or having your thoughts heard.

You can see the hierarchy and divisions at work especially among them who think that their work should be rewarded more than others, who like one of those feral birds you see on TV, squawk loudly, flap their outspread wings and inflate their chests to ward off an adversary. Many professors act and sound self-important which just reveals their fragile flaws in front of the indifferent staff.

There's this one blow hard professor who has an office near my cubicle. Once a week he has a big conference call full of other big wig self-important types all yapping loudly on their own speaker phones, hundreds of miles away, about big important issues that will move and shake the industry. Unfortunately, he leaves his door open so I hear a lot of the conference call, and so does everyone else.

Imagine having a nice, intimate meal with your gf or bf and this big, fat red-faced sweating republican at the next table has just sat down and is talking loudly to his date or colleague about "important" issues which, of course, are not. You concentrate on your girl friend's voice, her lips and squint your eyes in focus but that loud republican blow hard just keeps yapping away, shoveling the appetizer into his awful mouth and going on and on about drayage and you just sit there-- reminded that a $50 bill for the meal will arrive. And, what are you paying for, really? The food? The ambiance? No. You're now paying to hear that blow hard dispense his time-tested wisdom about drayage. That's what you're paying for!

The universe and the university are full of these types who make others feel invisible and though you take it personally, you know you shouldn't because your life is better than that and you're already hard on yourself as you continue to seek your own character "perfection."

It's been a year since I left Korea...

2009-03-06T15:12:00.008-08:00

It's been a year since I left Korea. It feels good that I'm back but I do miss my lifestyle and sometimes, living there. I reminiscence about the times I road my bicycle along the bike path to and from the hogwan for five months. On both sides of the long stretch of highway, rice, flowers, tomatoes (?) and other crops grew and overflowed from the rich Korean soil. Non-exotic bugs would hit me in the face on their way home from a day's hunting; late nights riding back from Queenshead pub, my stomach full of their homebrew Ale, with no street lamps illuminating the bike path, using cars' headlights to roughly guide me. It was an adventure. My dad calls me a "gypsy" because I love traveling especially riding my cheap ass $80 Korean Lespo 21 speed mountain bike made by Sam Chully! What a heavy piece of crap that was but you could ride the shit out of it and not feel bad about getting it full of dents and dings.

Last weekend, the West Los Angeles Cycling club http://www.meetup.com/wlacycling had a Sunday ride from Marina Del Rey called Lagoon Park. I used google maps to look for directions and on Saturday, road out to the spot only to be sadly disappointed by the lack of shoulder, glass and rock on the road and the hideous curves that hide motor vehicles. I didn't go. You need a car to get to that spot; and what's the point of riding a bike if you need to take your car there in the first place? I was hoping it was accessible like so many of my bike riding days in Korea. Oh, well.

Bernard and Charlene leave MapleBear, Suwon

2009-03-06T15:04:00.003-08:00

Yes, blog readers. Bernard has left MapleBear; he made it! Can you believe it? He broke on through the kim chi kiddie prison and is a free man! He's home in Canada on vacation and will meet up with Charlene somewhere in D.C. Hopefully he pays a visit to the White House, tours D.C. and eats some good American food before leaving for another year tour of Korea! I guess he's a masochist; he must really like teaching ESL! This time, however, he will be in a middle school and will earn summer's off. If you're going to teach in Korea, work for the public school system like Bernard. The pay is great, the summers are off and the kids are usually better behaved. He will have to ride out this shitty economy and he'll do it in Korea! Good for him!

My ma gone crazy or I won’t be son number two until next year.

2009-02-25T09:58:00.003-08:00

Hello blog readers! Need your Palmer in the poo fix? Missing the view from the dung heap of life? Need some laughter to make your day? Here it is. Don’t let the poo hit the fan with you near!

I’m reading about Chester Carlson, the inventor of the photo copier machine. When he was growing up, his pa went crazy for about year moving his family around California, starting a medical business and due to his dad’s crippling arthritis, little eight year old Chester, had to work 4 hours each day to help support his mother and his pre-tuberculosis father. Well, I think my ma has gone crazy too!

She recently had a birthday last week and being the good son, (in a fake Peter Seller’s Chinese accent) son number two, that is, I planned a nice family dinner at a yuppie Westside restaurant of her choice. If you know my mom, she is a foodie and eats organic whenever possible despite her lifestyle choice of living in one of the most polluted cities in America and breathing in the inch of dust residue that resides on her furniture. I love my mom; she is very nice and unselfish and when it comes to thinking about other peoples’ feelings and needs, she is the best.

As with every birthday in recent memory, she is annoyingly indecisive about where she wants to eat. Every year, there are a dozen phone calls about restaurant choices, coordinating times and getting a head-count. It's always stressfull because she will say, “Whatever the family wants, is fine with me.” But I always interject: “But Mom, it’s your birthday! It’s your special day. Where do you want to go eat?” After the third or fourth phone call with my mom, I call my uncle who is the opposite and selects an expensive yuppie Italian restaurant where the pasta serving is four ounces and $24. In the end, it's my uncle who decides where to eat.

I always present my mom with three nice and expensive restaurants she can choose from. I make sure that she's already eaten and approved of, in her Zagat rating way. Well, this year, I waited to the night before her dinner to ask her where she wanted to eat. “Let’s go to Chan Dara Thai on Pico Boulevard,” she said. Of course it’s expensive and yuppish but the food is good. During the conversation, she caveats the choice with: “well, it’s noisy there but the food is excellent.” I concur with her restaurant pick and say, “It’s your birthday and I’m looking forward to celebrating it with you.”

Now, last year…her oldest brother and her dear sister-in-law, had a multiple senior moment, and forgot my mom’s birthday! She was mad. They never called or sent a card and two weeks later, their coupled brain freeze thawed and a call was made with their regrets. This year, she wanted to see if they forgot again. But being the good son I am, son number two, that is, and being organized and efficient, I emailed my uncle and aunt and invited them to the dinner.
I could have been more efficient this year and invited them sooner rather on the day of my mom’s birthday but I didn’t. As with their past and present thoughtlessness and inconvenience way of communicating with me, I decided this year, to do the same with them. I waited the day of my mom’s birthday and invited them. I didn't have to deal with the muliple phone calls and my uncle's terrible inflexibility and attitude. It’s nice that I invited them and they are part of the family but I didn’t want to be considerate this year and give them a week’s notice like I do with most of my family invites; the way most thoughtful people do when we all have busy lives and schedules and hobbies.

Later that morning, I confirmed with my mom her restaurant choice and the time. Although she choose Chan Dara the night before, she changed her mind! She said it was “too noisy” and thought that Lares Mexican restaurant would be better. If you’ve ever been to Lares, it’s just as noisy as Chan Dara. Anyway, being son number two, and being her birthday, I expected her indecisive so had no problem. I asked if her brother had called to wish her a happy birthday. He did not. I could tell she was mad about that. I had to tell her that I invited them. All of sudden, I was the black sheep of the litter. My status as son number two got dropped to son number, two billion, four hundred thousand! How could I do such a thing! Invite them? “I needed to invite them, he’s your brother,” I said, and being proactive and organized in case a dinner reservation was needed, I added, “I have to know the head-count for dinner!” My mom went off on me how I should not do such a thing. A terrible thing, inviting her brother and sister in law who were on her shit list and now I reminded their forgetful and thoughtless brains to think about her and her birthday! What a fuckin idiot I am! Jesus! How could I be so thoughtful and nice? And, they would now call her to wish her a happy fucking birthday and how could she be mad at them for that?! I really fucked up. Blog readers, you can join in the chorus of “palmer the thoughtful idiot!”

As it turned out, my uncle and cousin were too sick to go but my aunt, being a former ER nurse, was helping them get healthy. I don’t know why my aunt could not attend the dinner but I was glad to just celebrate it with my mom and girl friend at Lares. I bought them margaritas, and we all had a nice meal talking and being a family.

A few days later, I called my mom to follow up to ask how was her 70th birthday weekend was when she reminded me again, in that critical voice of hers, filled with “holier-than-thou” self-righteousness to not being so thoughtful and nice again to my family. I shouldn’t invite my uncle and aunt until they are off her shit list. I can’t wait for my mom’s birthday next year!

Jamba Juice Oatmeal

2009-02-05T14:00:00.010-08:00

Dear Jamba Juice,

On Monday I tried your Blueberry & Blackberry Jamba Oatmeal at UCLA’s Jamba Juice store. I wanted to write to you and express how disappointed and angry your company and product made me feel.

First of all, your organic oatmeal price of $2.95 plus tax is too expensive. I can buy oatmeal on campus at a student operated cafeteria (called Northern Lights) for $1.50 and get approximately 8 ounces of oatmeal with fresh halved-walnuts, brown sugar and raisins. Justifying that your Jamba oatmeal is organic does not give you the right to charge more for it and then serve it in a tiny container. WTF? My spoon is twice the size of your container! At any supermarket, I can buy a 2lb container of oatmeal for the same price! If you doubled your portion, I would not complain; right now you’re just ripping people off. You shameful capitalist swine.

Your website erroneously displays the weight of the oatmeal. See www.jambajuice.com/#/smoothies (and select oatmeal) . On the website it lists the serving size of 1 fluid ounce with servings per container of 1. That is wrong. The oatmeal I was served was about three to four ounces. In fact, I am disappointed that I was charged for a “kid sized” portion. I ate your oatmeal in five or six spoon servings! Now, compare my picture with your very full looking advertisement of your new oatmeal. This is false advertising and I’m going to report you to consumer affairs and write about this in my blog. You misleading pricks.

Secondly, I kindly asked two of your UCLA Jamba employees to fill up the cup to the brim. They refused citing your exact preparing specifications. I even showed them your stupid Jamba Oatmeal advertisement above. They gave the usual party line: we are instructed to serve it like this. I can’t believe they cower under your supervisory fear. Look at your advertisement; it’s full of oatmeal. Look at the oatmeal that was served to me; it’s ¾ full. What MBA bastard thought of this marketing campaign? Your price is too high and now your jipping me by not leveling off the oatmeal. You cheap bastards.

I hate company policies and people that train their employees to only give one exact scoop of this or that citing it’s company profit propaganda--all in the favor of counting beans and saving your CEO’s some money.

I omitted the brown sugar from the oatmeal; good thing I did. That blue/blackberry sauce is really really sweet. I could not imagine what it would taste like with the added brown sugar. Your employees were nice enough to put the sugar in a small cup. Did your MBA HR monkeys train them to do that? Maybe that’s why I couldn’t get the banana oatmeal that day. What monkey crap!

Lastly, I urge you to double the size of the oatmeal and to fill it up to the brim. You don’t need to add brown sugar either; it’s too sweet with the blue and blackberry sauce. Did you ever think that some customers want to add milk to your oatmeal too? Come on, you geniuses.

Why are you even trying to “branch” out into the breakfast arena? Your bread and butter are juices. I know the economy sucks but your new oatmeal it’s not even a nice try.

Not a happy camper,

Signed by Palmer

Our new President, Obama

2009-01-26T08:15:00.007-08:00

Yes, blog readers how can you not feel good about our new and hopeful-minded president? When Bush Sr and Jr were our commander in chiefs, I did not feel good about my country. When Bush Jr spoke or debated, I was always disgusted and had to turn off the radio whenever he talked about policy or politics. I hope those who voted for that yahoo are continually reminded of his regressive policies and will feel embarrassed and the pain he caused for the reminder of their lives. When Bill Clinton was our president, I felt better about being American but not even close to the way I feel now about our new progressive leader in the white house. As you know, Obama will not do as he said. He won't and can't b/c of the all the mouths he had to feed during his campaigning.

I predict that he will be ineffectual UNLESS he charges ahead disregarding some of the voices that supported him. Bush Jr was decisive simply b/c he was a fundamentalist. He was voted in by like-minded dingbats who are guided by their religiousness on his anti-abortion policies and conservative values, values which allowed us to drop bombs on "terrorists" and imprison objectors. His free market policies only helped the "haves" and the "have mores."

Obama, even if he's on par w/ Clinton, will be a good president, and if that's all he can do during his first four years, that's fine by me. I hope the Republican party revamps and closes the lid on backward thinking religious groups and those that espouse "conservative" values. They are one of the bases of the party, a partition they should let go and wither away.

Maybe Obama's presidency will create new dialogues in this country that is so great and complex that the religious base of the republicans--those people who have been politically retreating out of fear and being catered to by the republicans--that is, letting their religion determine their political ideologies--feel that they are no longer a viable part of the political process and must either become more progressive or fade away like a once famous Hollywood actor now living alone in their home on an IV drip.

Diabetes

2009-01-22T12:20:00.004-08:00

I've just found out that my best friend was diagnosed w/ Type II Diabetes. Life is unfair. He's young! At 41 he NEVER smoked, drank alcohol, ate fast food or almost never eats out. Though he is over weight by 20 pounds, he exercises almost DAILY though my gf thinks that practicing Kung Fu is not really exercise...

I'm so angry about this, perhaps more than him, right now. As you know Diabetes is genetically passed down. His grandfather had it. And being over weight doesn't help his situation but, why him? It's fucked.

Though living w/ this disease is relatively easy in today's world, his grandfather, however was never treated and died young. I want the best for my friend. We can all say that our best friends are honest, generous, loving, smart, fun and provide us comfort, right? I hope all your friends are that. Even Hitler and Mussolini had best friends but my BEST friend is the best and I'm fucking pissed off!

Look: at any age anyone can get this disease but we expect it to happen at 51 or 61. Right? This is ridiculous. He's 41, not 61! Last year he began to wear hearing aids. Now, he's diabetic. WTF?! He is falling apart before his life if over!

Yes, we are all dealt playing cards and are supposed to win the game with what we are dealt and to exchange those cards for those that will enable us to lead healthy and fulfilling lives. In many areas he has the upper hand b/c of his doctorate and the hard work he has done to publish or peril. I know we're supposed to live our lives with what we have and not whine about what we don't. Still, it doesn't ease my anger or make me feel better. And it's not healthy to wish otherwise but this injustice makes me angry.

I'm sure he'll work through the machinations of this disease and live a healthier life but who wants the additional garbage of "managing" a strict diet, daily exercise regiment, checking glucose levels 3x a day and much more?

In the old days, we brushed our teeth w/ baking soda and went to bed. Now, we floss w/ special mint, waxed dental floss after we brush with our ADA approved toothpaste w/ various active ingredients made to kill germs that cause gingivitis and plaque, purchase $125 electric toothbrushes w/ 10,000 vibrating bristle heads, visit our expensive dentists for deep cleanings and massage our gums before bedtime making our nightly hygiene ritual almost 30 fucking minutes long! Agh! Is our quality of life better now? Though research is still plugging away at finding a cure, Type II Diabetes is manageable despite all the eating and exercising caveats.

In the end, genetics rears its ugly fucking mouth and rips into our fleshy sides leaving us maimed so we can pick up our selves off the floor again and again and charge ahead like a bull whose balls are painfully squeezed into that horrible device inside the rodeo ring. I guess the metaphor is: life is the rodeo ring and you are the bull.

My friend is smart and has my support along with his loving family to make changes and live a healthy life. Inside joke: I guess that day when I showed up at his mom's house with a Big Mac hamburger, he should have eaten one too. :)

Warring uncles, fighting cousins

2009-01-16T12:24:00.003-08:00

I guess my family is on a war path, faithful blog readers. My warring uncles (read previous blog entry) continued battle is complimented by my fighting cousins.

About a year ago, my cousin Edith died. She was in her 80's. She left behind a husband, daughter and two sons. In her estate, the daughter was the sole executor but something happened. An argument ensued and now all are fighting over the money and tangibles Edith left behind. Maybe the youngest brother needs the money but all are overly well-to-do. Each hired an attorney to dispute the will contents and get their rightful share. I wonder how Edith would view their fighting and bickering? She would hate it. One of the sons, however, hasn't spoken to her in years, so maybe she wouldn't feel that bad. I think parents should choose a neutral party to be the executor of a will.

And what would happen if my own mom dies one day and she does not specify exactly who gets what? Will my uncle Emanuel, who's a millionaire but lives in a dark, one bedroom apartment, go between my brother Adam and me demand his "share" of my mom's stuff? Will my other uncle, Jerry, a (former?) drug addict and now ex-con, demand that certain items in my mom's estate be given to him? Couldn't you imagine how they would act towards me and my brother Adam? Based upon their vile email, I could see that Adam and me would not want to give them anything!

My mom and I talk a lot about stuff. She's great that way. I broached the topic of a living will w/ her. She says she'll visit an attorney but knowing my mom's severe and almost epidemic procrastinating nature, it may never happen. She could just type one out on her computer really.

If something happened to our parents, I think Adam should get the larger share, maybe a 60/40 split. He needs the money. I think he's reasonable and a giving person and I don't think I would ever argue or dispute with him. There seems to be a large reluctance of both of my parents to spell out exactly who gets what after they pass. I guess they don't want to think about it and choose a "favorite" or even alluded to showing any favoritism. I can understand that.

A 35 year old conflict between brothers

2009-01-15T08:21:00.011-08:00

Blog reader. In spite of what you may personally think of me publicly posting this private email between two warring brothers, I think it needs to be so others can read and learn from. I've changed their names and quote the entire two emails which includes the ALL CAPS intact but I did a spell check. Why do I have this email? Well, my mom had forwarded it to me. I guess she wanted me to offer an opinion or to dialogue with her about her angry siblings behavior. Personally, I think Emanuel and Jerry are both little twits who deserve the conflict they both created and still contribute to. They're pathetic and provide me and others an example of how low blood can get and makes me think about my own relationship with my brothers and ensuring that they continue in a positive and life affirming arc (which I hope they also feel). In the following pasted emails, there is truth. There is hurt. Many things which may cause you to think about (or not) you're own family conflicts that remain unresolved. Life is short, so share and eat your cake together.

Here's an executive summary and background to provide context:

Jerry was sent to prison for growing 300 marijuana plants in his small, 1,500 square foot home in Oregon. The State of Oregon did not want to punish him to the full extent of the law, but the Federal prosecutor did. Jerry served about three years in prison. Jerry has been smoking and selling that product for over 40 years. He was/is a drug addict. I guess he never listen to the mantra: don't get high on your supply? It sounds better if you have a Bronx accent and dress in solid color 70's big lapel shirts. Anyways, he married a really crazy woman who beget a son, George. Before and after their divorce, this crazy lady would try to win full parental control of George despite the fact that her other three or so kids from her other three or so marriages were spread out all over the country and she was off her lithium! George is showing signs of manic depression. He hears voices. George, recently lived in Emanuel's apartment building in California for a few months to attend Santa Monica College and get a job. Emmanuel paid for rent and basically subsidized his stay for two months before George went home to Oregon in December 2008.

Emanuel is the older brother of Jerry. He pays the $900 rent for his youngest son who lives in the apt above him and for his expensive culinary course at a cooking institute in Santa Monica, CA. When I "baby sat" this kid five years ago, he showed no signs or interest in cooking. I took him grocery shopping and all he bought was frozen food. Who knows anything about anyone. Emanuel's son is typical of spoiled kids: Drug use, fighting, questionable friends of character, brushes with the law, risk taking behavior which has had negative consequences for him and his family. He has a mother (Sarah) and father (Emanuel) who are very permissive and from my judgement, have incomplete parenting skills simply because their son acts out. Unfortunately, Emanuel hasn't talked to one of his other sons for like 20 years and a daughter for about five years. He is a grand father too. Emanuel is in his seventies and his wife is 53. This age difference is very common in L.A. The older man, who marries a younger, hot woman. He is that man.

About three years ago, his ex-wife of about 30 years ago sued him for $10,000. She claimed that she is owed this since they divorced. Imagine that? After 30 years of divorce your ex-wife, who is rich, sues you? It's not about the money. What does that say about her and Emanuel?

Now, here is the torque or thrust of the warring brothers which was initiated by Jerry. On November 16th, one month before George went home, Jerry wrote an email to his son, George, about Emmanuel. George was still being subsidized by Emanuel. Later on December 24, 2008, that email was sent to Emmanuel way after George went back home in Oregon.

Start of Email from Jerry to Emanuel:

From: Jerry
Date: Sun, Nov 16, 2008 at 11:01 AM
(Look at this) Subject: i will send him (meaning Emmanuel) this when u r here (George)
To: His Son George before Jerry sent the email on 12/24/08

35 yrs of therapy. i thought therapy was for changing targeted behaviors that were detrimental to healthy living. guess you could have saved a lot of money over the years as your behavior hasn't change at all. its always been that you know how everyone else is supposed to live their lives. so my son is an abject failure just like his father. and his future is over before it begins. he is gonna end up just like me. well aren't you the insightful one. i would love to be able to gaze at your xl ball. what is success to you. money material objects. what. relationships. like you and your children. how long since you spoke to your oldest. 30 yrs.and your daughter in n.y. so my son is doomed and you decided that all on your own. instead of helping all you seem to do is pass on your superficial judgments. are you that insecure that you have to break down an impressionable kid to build yourself up. you rule by intimidation. you always have.

i remember being in your office in n y c when i was around 19. just like yesterday. i was sitting in your office and you went on one of your screamers on Stanley. made him feel small. hats what you have always like to do. makes you feel big. doesn't it. at the expense of others. that's how you get over. 35 yrs. all wasted. so now instead of constructive help, its throw my son out. good. your loss is my gain. so he's lying about coming here and living w/me. no fool like an old fool. i get my son back. so your not even going to sport him a ticket back. well money is tight, but i will find a way. i warned him about who you are. when he got down there. he was all excited about having family. now it has turned into a big disappointment, and i was right again. like in the beginning of all relationships, all smiles and nice. i knew that given enough time, your truth would emerge and it has. still arrogant, self centered, ego-maniacal, self-righteous and the intimidator. so i guess your life is a success as you are who you want to be. no need for me to throw in my remembrances here as i have nothing to prove to you. oh yeah i forgot judgmental. can't leave that one out. it has always played big.

you used to push me around. if we were in the same room now, you would be the one to run away to your bedroom. i would lay you out for the charlatan that you are. George tried to get me to come down there. all is good he said. no way i would ever go there. you would wind up calling the cops to get me out cause you wouldn't like what i would be saying and i would have a lot to say. anyway, you just aren't worth the energy. i figured out yrs. ago that i never really like you. and this will be the last communication that i will have w/you. no interest on my part. i could say a lot more, put downs and all. not my style. yours not mine. i've stated my opinion, that's all. i don't need validation throwing in what others think from their observations. and your spirituality has been just a self serving ego boost.

if you were truly a spiritual man, you would have treated my son differently and lived up to your part of the agreement you set up when YOU INVITED HIM DOWN there and said you would take care of him. if he didn't live up to his end, then he should have been told that and given a chance to make the necessary changes. so thanx for sending me my son. and it is a beautiful day. so go tell your stories to anyone that will listen, knowing that you are protected from the truth, as they will never have the opportunity get the whole story.

Start of email from Emmanuel to Jerry:

From: Emmanuel
Date: January 1, 2009 9:31:15 PM PST
To: Jerry
Subject: Re: i will send him this when u r here

You self serving, self absorbed, sanctimonious hypocrite. YOU are responsible for George's [Younger brother’s son] condition. YOU married his mother. YOU chose to have a child with her. YOU established the model for how a father behaves. YOU self proclaimed "first and foremost father" or perhaps you conveniently forget writing these words from behind bars. What kind of father exposes himself to a life of crime and illegal drug use. YOUR kind. YOU even recruited him to work your farm and thereby risked his being sent into the system and worse. YOU abandoned him and took no responsibility just as you've always done with everyone & everything. Look at the wreckage you call a life. Here you are at 59, broke, living in a stranger's room, a career criminal, no employment and please show me the relationships in your life.

It never dawned on you that you influenced him to be just like you and add, liar, thief, irresponsible, unwilling to learn, delusional, self-grandising & drug abuser. The list goes on and all of it sick. You abandoned him many times, you taught him to count on no-one, you farmed him out to a good Samaritan STRANGER and left Dave or anyone else to come pick up your wreckage. YOU even supported joining the military knowing he'd have to learn to be a murderer of innocent people and expose himself to mortal danger. All YOU have ever really done is damage him and twist it to make it appear otherwise. Make no mistake, its obvious.

I don't remember you saying NO to my overture to bring him down, or offering any material support, or any help dealing with what might come up, or even giving me any information or advice for that matter. In 9 months not one call. Hmmmmmm. If you felt I'm such a demon why go along with his coming into my home. What kind of a father sends his kid into a situation he feels is dangerous to his son's well being.

I remember the letter you sent from prison telling me he's a liar - want a copy? Even then you were setting him up to be a failure by planting your seeds of mistrust. Hmmm.

YOU weren't too proud to ask me for $10,000 for bail or monetary help to get out of your drug jams in Texas and Malverne. Or don't you know whose cash it was. YOU weren't such a big shot when you moved into my Newburgh house rent free & had the free use of my truck or the job you were handed. Not so disdainful then that you didn't gobble that up. Hypocrisy. Talk about no words of acknowledgment or appreciation.

Spare me your prison tough guy threats. We both know YOU for the coward YOU are.

Regardless of how my children view me, I made sure all 4 got their start in life and all are solid people in this world and I paid for it, supported them and helped them to become independent. What can YOU say.

Did YOU ever consider that YOU are George's problem, that you found a way to keep him dependent so that your meager ego could at least have one someone who would be around. After all who else is there.

I did not create his issues any more than I did yours. YOU sabotaged this from the onset. YOU knew his problems and said nothing just so that YOU could pass everything off onto us just as you always have.

Had you joined in the attempt to help, the outcome could have been different. YOU doomed YOUR son again.

I did not sign on to become his father, I offered him an opportunity. A chance to get an education which I was offering to pay for along with his clothes, his food, his health insurance, uncovered medical bills, his tuition & books, his rent, his transportation, his cell phone, and any advice or mentoring he asked for. What do you know about how I tried, the therapists I asked for advise, all the books I reviewed, the hours and hours I spent with George to help him fulfill his commitment to study, get grades, not use drugs and to find work. The approaches I tried in desperation. Nothing worked. I did not know in advance of his difficulties and you Mr. Jailbird were in the system and only obviously concerned with yourself, as always.

Where was any acknowledgment to Jason whose idea it was to invite George to begin with or Sarah whose efforts and money were contributed. Oh gee there's that money word which Mr. disdain considers beneath his attention but whose hand is always out palm up. Ellin was a part. Oooops there's family about who Mr. generous is so contemptuous.

Yes it all went south, yes I failed to help him achieve what I hoped. He failed every class, assuming he even attended class. Never really got a job. Used drugs. Lied. Stole. Deceived with half truths and withheld information. Made little effort and took no responsibility for all the results. DOES THIS SOUND LIKE ANYONE WE KNOW HMMMM MR. TOUGH GUY??? Where were you through all this big guy?

Why did you accept all he said knowing his problems and never communicated with us?? Could it be YOU have gotten exactly what you want. Did YOU ever think of him and how to help him, I think not. Its always all about YOU and he learned all that from you and that's his tragedy and maybe all of ours.

Do you think your message about never trusting anyone especially family and only doing it on your own never was integrated into his behavior? Are you a complete idiot to ignore that your bad advice had no impact on his inability to ask for help especially from people you preach are the least trustworthy? YOU sabotaged this from the onset. And YOU never take any responsibility.

HAD YOU STAYED WITHIN THE LAW & NOT GONE TO PRISON GEORGE WOULD NEVER HAVE HAD TO COME HERE. IT WAS YOUR CRIMINAL BEHAVIOR THAT CREATED IT ALL.

Who cares about YOU? How many people came forward in your hour of need. How many character references did you get. How many family members offered. Where were all the lovers, long time friends, past employers, and strangers you've always regarded more highly than any blood. It speaks volumes that the one person you came to through an intermediary was the one person you trust the least, dislike and fantasize injuring. Your life is a desert.

So YOU argue that I brought George here so that I could find a way to dominate and destroy him. That's why I endured dealing with the problems, spent the money, did the counseling, did the chauffeuring, on & on. Now that's some spin. Did YOU play any part Mr First & foremost, do YOU have ANY responsibility.

That you behaved in a sneaky deceitful way and YOU enlisted George in your plot to continue feeding off us knowingly so as not to jeopardize his meal ticket too soon speaks volumes about your character. Just look at the date of your email. How's that for integrity but maybe it was just money ooops there's that stuff you think so little about. I wonder what the lesson learned was for YOUR son. But then this behavior is traditional with you, you are after all an unconscionable user with an everything is coming to you attitude. Had you not intervened with this sneaky way of getting him to return to Oregon and demanded that he stay and keep up with his commitment and discussed matters with me, you might have discovered that I was still trying to get through to him and instead of adding destruction, you could have been a constructive factor. On Nov 16th, I still had 2 months to get somewhere with him. But that's not what YOU wanted - YOU wanted to prove what an asshole I am and how right you are, and keep him in your orbit, you self-deceiving fool.

You made it impossible for him to grow without making you look bad or wrong. Rejoice, feel good, you got him to be just like you.

*********************************************************************************

Why the holidays suck

2008-12-30T14:08:00.006-08:00

Yes, blog readers, it's the holiday season of 2008 and Palmer is all Bah Hum Bug! I am fortunate enough that I don't celebrate any religious holiday and can be exempt from the obligatory gift giving and receiving! Ho ho ho. It's good to feel this way, my kind blog readers. I like not participating in gift exchanges with relatives I don't like and who don't like me. It makes the holiday parties I go to much less tense and this year I haven't seen anyone I don't like simply because-- no one invited me to their holiday party. What a relief! I don't need to feel uncomfortable. The fake "Merry Christmas" or the disingenious "Happy New Year." I don't like pretending or faking my feelings. I do hope my good friends and family members had a fun holiday break but otherwise, don't invite me to your party unless you want to be brought down into a dark...damp...depressive state! Yes! Palmer is the "Holiday Cooler" for hire! For a $125 fee, you can hire me to use my charm to disarm your holiday party and send your guests home!

My whinny nephew Daniel

2008-12-17T08:13:00.002-08:00

The other day I sent my nephew Daniel some birthday toys through the trusty ole US mail. He got them in time and played with them and discovered problems with each item.

When I spoke to him on his birthday, he gave me the litany of woes for each item. The first toy, a silicon based Squishy Pig Head, which I bought in Korea, is to be thrown against smooth surfaces. You throw it against a desk, for example, and wham! The pig head becomes flat and then pops up again. He obviously went animal on it, and it now leaks water.

The second gift, a handmade wooden spin top, which you can see a picture of it being made on this blog, needed vast assembly of the rope to the pully. It required a grown up to put it together. The third gift, a lego-like racer car from Korea, did not assembly fully because the plastic driver's head did not sit correctly. Oh, well. I thought they were fun gifts that he would enjoy.

My mom bought him an expensive Lego set and sent it to him via US mail. She purchased the last number in a special Lego series, which my nephew is currently at number five. He hopes to collect all eight. When I spoke to him, he sounded disappointed because she did not go in the order of the series. He was perturbed that she skipped ahead a few numbers.

I guess I am disappointed in his attitude towards his birthday gifts. Maybe this is the mark of a spoiled kid. He's hard to read over the phone and I haven't seen him in a few years either. My brother says he was happy with his gifts but my observations deny this.

FerLease Navidad

2008-12-17T08:09:00.001-08:00

Ferlease Navidad. Ferlease Navidad. Ferlease Navidad. Ferlease Navidad. Ferlease Navidad. Ferlease Navidad...I want to wish you a merry christmas. I want to wish you a merry christmas. And may your business not go!

Maple Bear up to it's old tricks

2008-12-15T08:29:00.003-08:00

I hear about news from the front lines of Maple Bear, in Suwon, Korea from time to time. The latest in Maple Bear centers on management. Currently, they are asking the teacher/s to smile more often. It sounds like some parents were complaining that some teachers look miserable. Duh! Try working there you wing-nuts!

There was a meeting with the Korean director and the owner where they told the teacher/s to smile more because their sour smirks are damaging their school's image! I also heard that they were thinking of firing someone but asked him to stay on instead for another month or two. He may have been fired earlier except four of us were leaving in August!

The ultra-sensitive, fat one left for some Latin country, thoroughly disgusted with Korean staff, teachers and kids. She made my friend's life not so good with her constant "c$@@t blocking" of her female friend and him. The tall, string bean one, who wouldn't stop her freakin noisy stomping in her apartment above me for months, was fisnishing her contract; the quiet, angry one had quit and me, the Maple Bear unruly one, was being canned--all within the month of August. They couldn't afford to lose one more teacher!

KXLU Los Angeles 88.9FM

2008-12-08T14:56:00.005-08:00

Hello blog readers. In 2007 during Loyola Marymount's (LMU) FM radio drive, I donated $29 to kxlu for my cool black tee shirt. I love that station. They play "alternative" radio stuff. I don't know what alternative means anymore, do you? Their Friday evening show at 6pm is a staple in my music diet. Demolisten was a show that Van Halen sent their demo tape to be played on the radio for the first time, so long ago...

When I was in Korea, I would down load Demolisten in it's 50 mega byte splendor to be listened to over and over again during the week. I left it on the computer over there at Maple Bear. Maybe someone who uses my computer will be turned on to. Anyways, I never got my tee shirt during their pledge drive in November of 2007. As I was preparing for my move to Korea thereafter, I didn't bother at all and finally, when I left for Korea in Feb of 2008, I didn't think about it.

In June of 2008 while still in Korea, I emailed them. When I got back from Korea in August, I still haven't received my pledge tee shirt. I followed up and up and up. Finally, after a year, in Dec 2008, I got my tee shirt! I had to go to the big boss to make it happen. That lilliputian of a station manager, Lauren Villa, is just too cool to care. I took this personally. Look at my emails to her.

----- Original Message ----
From: villa
Sent: Thursday, June 12, 2008 5:15:05 AM
Subject: KXLU fundraizer request/question

Dear Mr. Palmer,

I will definately get this taken care of as soon as possible!

--
Villa
KXLU General Manager

--- On Tue, 6/24/08, Mack Palmer wrote:

Subject: Re: KXLU fundraizer request/question
To: "villa"
Date: Tuesday, June 24, 2008, 3:42 AM

Hi Lauren,

Just following up. Any word? Thanks

~Matt
--- On Fri, 9/19/08, Mack Palmer wrote:

From: Mack Palmer
Subject: Re: KXLU fundraizer request/question
To: "villa"
Date: Friday, September 19, 2008, 2:46 PM

Hi ,

I got back to Los Angeles and had a note to follow up on this. Please let me know the status. Thank you.

~Matt

On Thu, Sep 25, 2008 at 12:03 PM, Mack Palmer wrote:

Hi,

I've been patient with this and given you ample time to correct the situation. I don't know if you received my last email on 9/19/08, but you need to contact me and communicate and resolve this issue. Thank you.

~Matt

--- On Thu, 9/25/08, lauren villa wrote:

From: villa
Subject: Re: KXLU fundraizer request/question
Date: Thursday, September 25, 2008, 7:05 PM

I am very, very sorry we're in the middle of our current fundrazor right now. I will get back to you very, very soon. I'd like to know the amount your pledged and the premium you are waiting for and we will rectify this. I am sorry it has taken so long, but we're very busy. I will fix this soon.

-

Around 9/25/08

Hi,

I pledged for the Tee-shirt (large). Thank you

~Matt

Sent: Monday, December 01, 2008 7:55 AM
To: , Lydia
Subject: Re: KXLU fundraizer request/question

Dear Ms. Ammossow,

I've been waiting for my KXLU gift (a tee shirt) for almost a year now. Could you please find a way to resolve this? I think Ms. Villa is too busy to take care of this issue. Thank you.

Best Regards,

Matthew Palmer

RE: KXLU fundraizer request/question
Ammossow, Lydia"
December 1, 2008 9:56:08 AM
To:M Palmer

I am SO sorry! I will look into this ASAP & get back to you!

Re: KXLU fundraizer request/question
M Palmer
sent: December 8, 2008

Hi Ms. Ammossow,

I got them! Thank you for the extra Tees!

Now that [this] issue has been successfully resolved by you, could you please tell me, because I'm really curious, why Lauren acted this way? I have several theories in my mind why this happened and wanted to match them with her reason behind her lateness. I would really like an explanation that is not sugar coated or presented in a manner which hides anything. Could you please explain? Thank you.

~Matt

Yes, blog reader, I really want to follow this thread even further. I obviously have a lot of time on my hands. And to delve into the mind of a busy 20 something (I'm guessing) who has a really great job/career that is the envy of a lot of LA Hipsters, should be followed through unlike the follow up of my gift! I need closure. Doesn't anyone understand? For a musician like me who has never gotten anywhere in music, being a station manager for a cool FM radio station is very cool. And then comes this dork who hasn't received his pledge gift. Poo poo poo.

The Inland Empire serves bad food

2008-12-08T08:35:00.006-08:00

I hope my gf is not mad but she would concur that the food we ate on Saturday, December 6th at a Japanese restaurant in THE INLAND EMPIRE, sucked poo. I have lived in Upland and Claremont for about three years and have an excellent sampling of the Inland Empire's cuisine and can judge that it's big brother or sister AKA L.A. still has better food than it's little brother or sister could dream about.

Yes, yes, yes. The area known as the Inland Empire (Empire) encompasses all the malcontent communities of Pomona, West Covina, Chino Hills and other sad places. It's particularly nice in the Winter when the temperatures don't soar about 79 degrees but foraging for good restaurants is a dismal experience that all should avoid.

The Empire has a huge consolidation of Americana diners and restaurants. You would think that all people do is drive dozen of miles from one Denny's to Chevy's. It's not true, you do find Thai and Chinese food but it's Americanized and not very good. I'm not a foodie by any sort and am still amazed by the lack of decent food in the Empire even after my departure of ten years ago! You'd think in ten years that they would have improved but they haven't. So, the Inland Empire sucks for food choices. Whatca expect from a massive sprawling urban mess of pre-fab houses and desert tundra?

And please don't think I denigrate one to boast the wills of the other. No way. I think that L.A. is not the best city either. The people here are freakin weird and hostile. Sorry, Uncle Ed, your self-enclosed world of Santa Monican urban professionals is too secular and small for the real cross-sampling of L.A. zombie blah people! For example, in Trader Joe's, an employee who serves free samples of coffee and snacks told me that Westsider's give attitude if Trader Joe's sells food with nitrates and hostile if the free coffee is not brewed yet! Believe it!

Why an economic recession is cathartic

2008-12-05T08:22:00.001-08:00

As of December 2008 we are in a country wide recession and as far as I can tell, a world recession is on the way. This economic crisis has the makings of a depression because of de-flation of prices, like oil/gas and consumer goods dropping to lower prices over a period of time. This crisis also has a secondary effect: layoffs.

All those workers who were really lazy and unproductive but in normal times you couldn't get rid of them, are now being given the boot. Yes, it's time to fire those lazy asses and become mean and lean. Our country is bloated, now we need to hit the gym, take some steroids, diet and eat lean proteins: we're in training. Rocky would yell, "Adrienne" about now. It would be great it UCLA lay off people who are lazy asses. We all know who THEY are. Besides, these lazy people should be doing something else that makes them feel productive and happy. It's a gift that they are asked to leave. Merry Fuckin Christmas! This reminds me of how de-politicized Christmas has become: we no longer have Christmas Parties but Holiday Parties. These are careful times where so many groups have staked their ideological footings. We should just eliminate holiday parties because it's fake and disingenuous when we try to keep Christian holidays or the Jewish holiday ideologically equal or politically correct with each other.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. Why an economic recession is cathartic? Once we realize how our appetite and greed for consuming and spending has created this mess, our culture will come in a wave of communal release. It might be the sort of an orgasm that made 60,000 chicks cry during the Beatles 1968 Shea Stadium concert or just a huge drunken binge of vomit spewing forth onto the streets by the unemployed. I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about. Anyway, once this recession becomes personal, then peoples' true selves emerge from under the facade of consumerism and status to reveal how consumerist and greedy they are.

Maple Bear woes

2008-12-03T09:44:00.006-08:00

I've heard from the grape vine that Maple Bear is declining fast, like North Korea's food supply! Morale is low and new management, after John the American director was canned, wants the ESL teacher's to meet Korean parents, one-on-one, and be a part of the planning for Western style holidays and such. Enrollment is low and some teachers have had their schedules reduced. My old IEP3 class was canceled. All is not well in Suwon.

Although conditions in Korea can be funky and uncomfortable at times for foreign teachers, there are so many benefits that make me appreciate the time I've lived in Korea. For example, the general feeling of safety at night. You can walk or ride your bike without the worry of harassment or impending mugging. The easy hours of work that enable you to often stay up late and socialize with friends or wake up early to experience the "land of the morning calm." To understand the latter, you need to be there and feel it. The lack of stress of owning a car or getting around to your destinations. Korea has excellent and very affordable transportation. The way that Korean people like to eat, drink and share their food with you. Imagine being on a public bus and being offered food or snacks. Never here on the bus here in America! Forgettabout it. The grass is always greener, I suppose, in hindsight.

Toastmasters

2008-11-21T09:34:00.010-08:00

I went to a Toastmaster's meeting in November 2008 at UCLA to find out more about the organization. Specifically, I want to learn how to persuade and interest people in hearing my ideas. Toastmaster's has a cool curriculum which builds speaker's skill sets and books to help them reach goals. Plus, you can obtain secondary benefits of building some leadership skills as you volunteer with them in various capacities. And, the elephant in the room, perhaps, is developing and exploiting your contacts to further your career. My goal is to get people interested in my bike rides and get people to listen to my ideas.

Some people are able to engage others and others are likely to follow and join them based upon the personality of the organizer. I am terrible at this. At a family reunion, for example, I spent a lot of time before hand to organize games. I brought them along but my cousin Beth took charge of the events, and, the point of this, people automatically deferred to her, without a second thought or deference to me. Weird. Personally, I prefer working by myself. I don't want to depend on anyone especially since most group work I do, I wind up doing the majority of it myself or wind up feeling angry at the others who flake. Although I am gregarious and social, I am in situations which I am not in a group. You would think that Toastmaster's could help such a "misanthrope" as me.

The first speech I heard was from this guy Larry who told us about his boring trip to Florida. He sweated profusely during his speech which was focused on using vocal inflection to demonstrate "excitedness." He would say things like "it was GREAT that I met with colleagues..." or "it was so AMAZING to see the exhibit..." Anyways, he was prepared and though I didn't learn anything, he got some practice in and to build up his speaking skills.

I came away from the meeting thinking that Toastmaster's is really for people who are totally shy and afraid of speaking in front of anyone. Most of the speeches had the sense of being "inflated" and "too happy" and too self-congratulatory to each member. It was too "feel good" and I think, a bit fake in their transparent efforts to build "self-confidence" in public speaking. It works for people and I think it's a great organization. However, I left feeling unimpressed.

The thing that really bothered me was that the members did not walk around or even greet the four new visitors to their meeting. Oh, sorry, one did and it was so obvious to me that he shook her hand because she was really cute. Otherwise, the other "ugly" ones didn't even get a greeting. You would think that they would remember when they came to their first meeting. I expected them to be welcoming and friendly and they were not. I guess their "self-confidence" is highly correlated to their unfriendliness.

Last week, while I was walking across the street at work, I saw Larry, the guy from Toastmasters!! He five or six feet in front of me. What are the odds of this? I yelled out his name, twice. He didn't even look over his shoulder. He ignored me. And he wasn't wearing head phones. Now, I am even more unimpressed by them. Now, here's the really "small world" weird synchronicity: Larry appeared at a holiday party I was invited to! WTF? I did not have the opportunity to talk to him and I felt if I did, he would start sweating profusely and that would have been embarrassing!

I found other meetings in the area but they are not as convenient for me nor do I think I fall in the category of being shy. I don't think I could stand the way they patronize each other on how great that speech was and how the president of that meeting gave lavish praise on one of the members who barely spoke.

So, fuck toastmasters.

Living in a dump

2008-11-12T16:07:00.005-08:00

Yes, blog reader. I am poor. Not the homeless kind or the welfare kind but just the lower middle class kind. I am living in a dumpy apartment with my beautiful gf adjacent to the massive 405 freeway, a never ending sound of engines, dust and exhaust. Despite the 20 foot sound wall, the noise of one or two million engines wheezing north and south is a constant reminder that any dwelling next to the freeway will always attract poor people who are often poor in neighborly relations.

On Sunday morning at 8am, my neighbor, call him Rudy, decides to warm up his 25 year old rust bucket Toyota pick up-- For ten freakin minutes. The sound of the struggling engine and its gaseous exhaust wafers into my bedroom. Ah, reader. Nothing like the sound and smell of an engine to wake me up from a pleasant sleep. I was ready to revel in its odoriferous breeze but I had to pee instead. Later that week I left him a nice note under his shitty wiper blade telling him to quit it. Would this type of behavior happen in the mountainous upscale homes of Bel Air? No.

The "whistler" of apartment 12 is another quaint feature among my neighbor brethren. He has a distinct whistle that he uses to call his friend as he approaches the building. Once inside the apt of his friend, the whistling continues almost like a nervous tick. Do you know anyone who has a facial tick? You watch it and the person knows you are watching it which makes him tick more! Now imagine hearing your neighbor whistle like that and you'll understand how I feel.

Next on the list of living in a certified dump, is the 2am floor "squeaker" from the neighbor above. Since the apt building does not have carpeting, which is good for the asthmatics who live next to the freeway, these old wooden floors creek and squeak like mother fers. Enough to wake me and my gf up. Last month I wrote the "squeaker" a note to stop yakking on the phone at 1am above our bedroom. It wouldn't be so bad if he would stop talking and whining like a little girl. Maybe I am doing that now in this blog?

It seems that being poor is one of the distinct qualities that allow people to be inconsiderate and not thoughtful to others. Of course you can say that the white collar rich are stealing from the poor but that's another blog entry.

The other day someone dropped a SD memory chip on the ground. I found it and placed a note above the mail boxes. No one claimed it. How can you not notice your device memory gone? Do you not read, neighbors? How can you be so complacent and passive about a $45 memory chip with your pictures or music on it? If it was me, I would call.

Last month I found a Motorola Razr cell phone in the alley. It was in a nice carry case. It was used but in okay condition. I open their contact list and last calls dialed and received. I noticed a lot of east coast area codes. Since it was about 8pm PST, I called and left a voice mail with someone explaining how I found the phone and where I found it. It took about three days for the person who lost the phone to finally retrieve it. And he lived in my building!! WTF? If I lost my phone, which I have, I would be one anxious mother fer! What is wrong with my neighbors?

As usual you get an interesting and somewhat eclectic mix of people who have different schedules and lifestyles. I don't think that is very interesting. In fact, it's disruptive. I like my building and neighbors to be quiet, clean and considerate. I don't want to hear people talking loudly, or their TVs barking, seeing their dumb pets pooing, having their children play near my apt, smell their exhaust smoke, having their friends wiping their feet on my door mat, the oily smell of their funky foods nor to have them act like they don't know who I am or nod or say hello in passing.

Work and Career Issues

2008-11-12T11:47:00.004-08:00

I was reading a chapter from Po Bronson's wonderful and honest book called What to do with my Life or something like that. It told the story of a few people who decided to live in New Orleans and how their notions of career and identity came to a standstill. Basically, those who were burnt out on being ambitious in high-powered cities like New York found refuge in New Orlean's lifestyle of easy living in the Big Easy. Those who now lived there escaped the rat race however their internal sound track, that voice in their heads, of getting things done and being ambitious were slowed down to a barely audible pitch. They still had longings to better themselves professionally but it was toned down like the begging squeal of an amputated wheel chair bound Veteran on anti-depressants and booze. In other words, if you want a career, you should not live in New Orleans.

In retrospect, I took a six month paid vacation working in a Suwon, Korean hogwan/language institute as a refuge from career issues. I also had that travel itch and a need to do something big and different to shake me out of my rut. That barely audible pitch I heard in Korea is now a clarion bell to get busy and get on a career track that promises a higher level of pay and professional opportunity. Every day I think about what to do with my life and how to get there. I was able to think about it in Korea but now I dwell upon here and I am better for it.

In Korea as in New Orleans (according to Bronson), you are not confronted with this tension to get shit done and pursue your career. Hell, you're in Korea making got money, living a great lifestyle and eating well. Why bother? Here in Los Angeles, however, opportunities are everywhere to create a career you enjoy but the obstacles and hard work can be overwhelming though worth it.

For a good six months I made some excellent cash, saw the world and avoided those nagging career issues. Now that I'm back and planning my future, it is a nasty headache of soul searching. I am experimenting with starting my own college counseling business and recently advertised my administrative services for a fee or commission. No, I am not an escort, you pervs. I'm glad I am doing this now.

Wow! Real humanity v. Fake humanity

2008-11-10T09:35:00.003-08:00

Yes, blog reader, Wow! As I type on this clunky Mac computer sitting on my 40 year old steel desk, a relic probably handed down from the engineering department at UCLA 30 years ago, I ponder and think about what happened yesterday on one of my Palmer bike rides. Let's see what these stupid sticking shift keys can make out of this humane event on Sunday and how it compares to corporate fakery in the name of humanity, or some other cultural criticism like that.

As I was "mole-ing out" from my entrenched Westside state of mind to Olympic and Robertson, I stopped to see a struggling pigeon, with a broken wing, hopping madly in the middle of traffic. I quickly pulled over and watched as it would struggle to fly above the cars to only land in front of their pumping ABS brakes. Traffic stopped to allow the hurt pigeon pass only to be narrowly missed by other vehicles who were too impatient or unaware to care. I hopped off my bike and leaned it against a wall. I slowly entered traffic and saw a guy in his MBZ, jump out and pick up the pigeon. He then walked across the street and placed it on the front lawn of one of those 60's style anonymous buildings you see in L.A. He walked back to his car, beaming happily of his goodwill. I even thanked him. His act was genuine. It was human.

This reminds me of something I read in The Starbucks Experience about real people "paying it forward" or backward as they waited in line at the drive through of a starbucks. I know I am sounding like an overly critical a-hole but this nice act of paying for your neighbor's coffee reeks of corporate back room marketing strategy in order to celebrate customers, boost employee morale and sell more starbucks coffee. Creating a corporate atmosphere where it's okay to do this behavior of "paying it forward" makes people use to the cultural action of doing "good" deeds of using money instead of policy. In other words, when you use money it persuades corporations to act nicely when in fact, we should create a world where morals are guiding policies to achieve a better quality of life. It creates a cultural phenomenon where consumers create change using their change and makes corporations think about their impact on the environment. Is this really what we need? Have corporations do "good" when we should just make the shareholders legally responsible for their negative actions?

I can see why many people have a great need for the Church and for religious leaders and church action groups to petition but the churches are failing b/c of this cultural consumerist need to use money to create change when instead, we should use morals based upon laws and progressive policies instead. We need to separate religion from policies, government and corporations. We should not apply human values to organizations that are not legally responsible for their people. We should make corporations legally responsible to ensure that humanity is real and not fake.

The 2008 Presidential Election

2008-10-31T16:16:00.002-07:00

In about five days we'll have a new President of the United States. I just heard that my uncle, who has not voted in years, will vote for Obama. Last I heard my gun owning, small militia friendly brother will vote for McCain. Four years from now, with the political frenzy beating its drums again, what will we remember from 2008?

We should do a research poll of all the campaign pledges made by both parties and see how they stack up against each other and against the candidate's performance. I figure about 10 percent promised will happen. Candidates always make sweeping pledges which they can't or don't make and follow up on for the many complex reasons. Right?

All of this is nonsense, really. Who did all those people vote for the last eight years? Bush, Jr. WTF? Is this country crazy? Yes. And if Florida tainted the election process with the Supreme Court's backing, does it matter anyway? If a person falls from a 59 story or 29 story building, they're dead regardless of the height.

Peaceful, easy feeling

2008-10-31T08:15:00.004-07:00

Living in Suwon, South Korea you get the feeling of relative safety. It's a great feeling that allows you a lifestyle to ride your bike late at night, go walking with a friend or to ponder universal problems as you walk alone in the calm of Korean night or the hot and crowded afternoon streets near HomePlus.

In Suwon you see children walking home late from their study sessions or classes; ten year old kids with no sense of fear. It's wonderful. You can feel it in your gut, this sense of ease and calm. There are bad people out there but statistically, their numbers are small, like lottery size winnings small. Yes, there are drunk drivers and dark hidden alleys where taxi drivers rocket through but I'm talking about just a peaceful, easy feeling.

In Los Angeles, I live less than a five minute walk to the basket ball courts in a public park. When I walk there I can feel a tension and stress with a scent of danger. Am I imagining this? I tried to explain this feeling but the words were not adequate. What is the litmus test to discover if your city is peaceful and easy then? For me it is riding a bicycle late at night and soaking in the sights and sounds of the neighborhood. I used to do that in Playa del Rey but not in Culver City. It's not a peaceful, easy feeling. The only way to know this feeling is to live in another country and make the comparison, blog readers. I hope that some of you will do this one day.

Why I continue to hate the macintush

2008-10-29T09:19:00.004-07:00

Blog readers, you know me well. I'm not dumb but it seems that my continued frustration of using a toy computer makes me smirk and sour and maybe causes me to not see the obvious more! The other day I am in Word and hit F12 on my keyboard. Bam! It gives me a save as window! WTF? I did that before and it didn't work. Maybe my meds have made me woosy; this short cut did not work before, or did it? Shit.

Now, in Mac Mail, I cannot sort by "unread" email messages. WTF!! I hate this computer. Hate it. This is why if you invest in Apple you will lose money! Once you buy the machine, you like it. It's cute and stylish and people swoon over it like a new born. However, when you use it a lot, you will hate it. It's all a facade. Don't fall for it! It's a (Steve) Jobsian magic trick. And he is a hateful person, if you read up on Apple. Even that genius Steve Wozinski continued to work for him after being lied to and cheated out of money by Jobs.

Why I hate using Macintosh computers for work

2008-10-24T17:03:00.002-07:00

Hello again kind blog reader/s…it’s been a while. Yes, yes. I’ve been slacking on my writing duties because, as some of you know, I have been looking for a job. Some of you are having withdrawal symptoms, others don’t give a crap and any new or returning reader to this self-indulgent blog, out there in the Internet World, or as I now call it (IW)—look: I need to make some kind of heady acronym for this blog or I will be a has-been, has already become impatient and wants me to get to the point!

In my department at a very large university located in Los Angeles, they use Macintoshes. Most departments here us PCs, loaded with Windows XP. I know some of you love Macs. They’re elegant, easy to use, even fun sometimes. But they are toys. If you’re going to be offended by my criticism, constructive or not, please don’t read on…

Macintoshes belong in cafes where you can sip your Peet’s coffee, surf and send emails or organize your last party or vacation pictures. And if you’re sipping some good coffee from Peet’s using their free wi-fi, then please purchase another cup of coffee. Don’t be a mooch. Anyways, Macs suck and they should be condemned from any office unless you do graphics or movie animation. Sorry, Yanne and Kelly, likers of the Macintosh.

Too Many Cliques

Macintosh users belong the nerd elite of computer literati. PC users are the salt of the earth. Macintosh fanatics are smart and denigrate big corporate types who use PCs. PC users are smart and efficient. PC users have urged Mac users to help people use Macs better for the masses. Macs cost more. PCs cost less.

Sending an email at a certain time

I want to send an email at Sunday, at 4pm when my boss is probably sitting down at her desk, going over her itinerary for Monday. In this email reminder is to ask to bring in her receipts from her business trip. I can’t do this in Mac mail. Junk.

I want to set up an email reminder to myself to follow up on an email from someone else. Can’t do this in Mac mail. Junk.

I just recently learned how to get rid of the printer icon from my Mac dock. Are Mac users disorganized and absent minded? Why have the icon on the dock after you print something? Macintosh has defaced my desktop real estate space! And, it keeps coming back! Junk.

Oh, here’s one of my favorites: sorting my email in Mac mail. My supervisor and I were discussing an upcoming event and I wanted to double check one person’s response. When I clicked on the “from” column, Mac mail sorted by sender’s name but I could not “jump” to the next letter or email using the key pad. Instead, I had to manually scroll down to find the email while an embarrassing number of emails from my girl friend took up screen real estate.
Whatever happened to having a Notepad, a simple application on Mac? It has TextEdit which requires users of GUI to use more mouse clicks to do what Notepad simply has done for 20 years. Mac. Junk.

And for each operation of some software, there seems to be more mouse clicks involved. Whatever happened to hitting the return button to say “yes” or the letter “n” on your keyboard to say “no?” With a mac you need to use the mouse to click on “No” and sometimes the return key works for a “yes.”

When using software I find myself looking for the shortcuts that don’t exist. I want to do a “save as” (F12 on a PC) and the mac requires me to go to the menu and select “save as.” I haven’t found any shortcuts for that and I looked on line too. Blah!

I totally bored you blog readers. I had to rant. I’ve been using Mac OS X for three weeks now and though I am used to it, I don’t like it. Windows. Junk too but at least it works! Blah!

Living the Dream

2008-09-17T10:46:00.002-07:00

Today, as our financial markets get bailed out by the U.S. Federal Reserve for about 80 plus billion and the CEO of AIG is replaced by Paulson's Allstate Insurance friend, I think about the crying child in the library and the homeless man at the computer who smells and has layers of dirt on his hands. In the words Larry from my SMC business class of the past, his soles of his shoes flopping and flailing in the wind, are we "living the dream?"

The dream of owning a house without money down? Low interest rates to borrow more than we can pay or afford? Spending billions on a war in Iraq and Afganistan? Are we a healthy society? If we bomb the crap out of the Middle East, will that solve some of our problems? If we become totally independent of foreign oil, will that solve the problem?

Unemployed

2008-09-16T13:12:00.003-07:00

Yes, blog reader. The Palmster is unemployed. Hmm. I've had some interviews and I know I will get a job but I would like to work sooner than later. I like working; it makes me feel productive and useful. I mean: how many times can you masturbate in a day anyway? Actually, the time off is in good use. I have fixed the toilet seat, put up a shoe rack, cleaned, done countless loads of laundry (no, I didn't use my socks for anything else than my feet!), meal preparations, shopping and driving my baby to/from work. It's not a vacation by any means. Looking for work is a full time job! The agencies all feel and act incompetent and probably they are all over worked too. They are not doing a good job. This Thursday i will sign up with another one that specializes in the law. I hate law firms. I've done that temp work before and they all reek of troubled people, troubled clients. It's a pay check but is it worth it? I can't burn through my savings. (like that Winehouse song) No, no, no. I can't sit around and smoke grass all day. No, no, no. I have to have a job so I can write songs. I need the money or else: no honey. Uh oh!

Free stuff and the Yakuza

2008-09-16T13:07:00.002-07:00

On Sunday Yanne and I saw the Pacino/DeNiro flop called "Righteous Kill." It was about two tired looking actors as detectives Turk and Rooster. They were investigating murders and to keep the plot moving, had gratuitous sex between a young cop who likes it rough and an old cop who does it rough. Boring. Staid. I could imagine how DeNiro and Paciano were signing their contracts thinking how easy money this film would be and not leave New York City to do it! It would of been more interesting to have their stunt doubles acting instead! It could of been a funny parody because both of them haven't done anything worth their acting huevos in a long, long time. I'm not an ageist by any means. Our culture is obsessed and driven by youth and looking young. These giants of cinema have had their successful run and should retire from doing tired scripts, cliche moral dilemmas at the requisite Catholic church and allow their stunt doubles to take unemployment insurance. Afterward, we snook into see "Tropic Thunder" a much better movie and a funny spoof to boot! What a great performance by Robert Downey--his best since Chaplin. I loved him in that other film with Val Kilmer but in "Tropic Thunder" he really was terrific playing an Australian actor who gets surgery to "blacken" his skin in order to play a black American soldier during the Vietnam War. He was in great form! Before I didn't think much of Ben Stiller but I changed my mind: his direction was great. I think it was the script which had Ethan Cohen's help. I liked how the film mocked Hollywood and insecure actors while also talking about acting techniques in a factious way.

Yanne and I enjoyed the free film and why not? We were being opportunists and took advantage of a flaw in AMC cinemas lax security. I don't feel bad paying $11.50 for two films! I felt mischievous and juvenile sneaking into the other film. Is it dishonest? Yes. Is it stealing? Yes. But why don't I care? Am I so disconnected with my actions having financial repercussions to huge corporations? Is it like stealing Post-Its from your job? Hmm.

I saw a trick done in a movie years ago by the Japanese mob or yakuza. A bunch of them would dine out at four or five star restaurants, bring live roaches and other bugs and place them in the food or on the table after their meal for the restaurant manager to see. It worked: their meals were gratis or free. Yesterday, after our two films, Yanne and I dined at the Cheesecake Factory. We were finishing our salad when a small roach ran across our table.I captured the small bugger by placing my tea cup over him. While he was enclosed in his tomb me and Yanne a little worried about our Chinese Chicken salad! Was it in the food? I hope not! I asked a random waiter to have manager walk over as soon as possible. I showed him our "visitor" and told him we were about to order a piece of tiarmusu cheesecake before our "friend" decided to talk a walk on our table. The manager wrapped up the roach in my napkin and took my tea cup away. We got a free meal! The Yakuza trick works! Of course, i didn't bring the roach to the restaurant but it would work elsewhere. Yanne thinks that's dishonest...she's such a party pooper! :)

Eight things I like about Los Angeles...

2008-09-09T15:38:00.004-07:00

One blog reader complained to me that I didn't have any positive things to say about L.A. Here are my eight things I really like about L.A.

1. Every body ends their sentences sounding like a question?
2. O.J. is on trial in Las Vegas, Nevada.
3. The LA Times is still a wannabe newspaper.
4. I can see a movie at 9am and pay the bargain price of $6.50 while normal people sleep.
5. I can ride my bicycle at the beach but people on the bike path pose trouble
6. The smog is less volatile than San Bernadino.
7. San Bernardino is not part of L.A.
8. There are very few Korean restaurants

Maple Bear in Suwon

2008-09-09T15:28:00.005-07:00

Maple Bear has gotten some of my respect. I heard through an anonymous contact, that the American Director is leaving! He got demoted to a full time teacher! Yeah! I guess HQ read the many complaints about him and the owner of the institute took action! Many people are happy and rejoicing some 6,990 miles from L.A. I send a (90's style) "shout out" to my (80's verbiage) "homies," man! Nice! (pronounced in the Korean way as "Nice-u-A") .

Too bad that other lump of a human being is still there! Ugh. They can't make them any more meaner and uglier than that. And my other nemesis is gone, but you faithful and poised blog reader, knew that already. So many details!! It's a great day!

Back in LA, dude or Eight things I don't like about Los Angeles

2008-09-04T14:24:00.005-07:00

Dude, I'm back in L.A. and not loving it here. But I knew that before and after Korea. It's not a surprise. I always feel tension in my stomach! This tension permeates me: it's difficult living here. It's the same feeling I had way before I left. I think a lot of us have it. It is the way of a big city, you got to hustle in the bustle. It's not my mental state or emotional state but the Californian State. hehehe. Although Suwon is a major step below L.A., I did not feel a constant tension. It could be for a number of reasons which I could speculate all day long...

Things I don't like about L.A. and hopefully these won't be used against me for applying to jobs:

1. Tattoos. Why? Doesn't anyone who is not in a gang know the history/purpose of tattoos???

2. Driving. You must drive everywhere.

3. Weather. For Jesus' sake, can't we just have one day of bad weather?

4. Fat people. I see fat people everywhere. Let em eat a Korean diet for a year. Problem solved?

5. Crazy people. I see crazy people everywhere. Why so many of them? And why Korea has so few visible crazy people?

6. Guns. Do you really need five automatics for your five year old kid?

7. Creepy people. Yes, I'm back to the people here. I 'm standing in line at Big Five sporting goods and three creepy people come in and give me a really creepy vibe. I never had a creepy vibe from people in Korea though I went to some places which I obviously didn't belong. Maybe I did not learn the Korean Kreepy Vibe they have?

8. Republicans. For Jesus' sake! Sorry, the DSMIV should list Republicans as a disease. Has big government gotten smaller since their tenure? Have corruptions been abated? Has war ended? Has oil interests declined? Has Orange County, California become "normal?" No.

That's eight reasons to hate L.A. Have any of your own?

I miss my students

2008-09-04T14:15:00.004-07:00

Hello blog readers! I dreamed about my cute students this week. Little Euro, Emma and a few others from my kinder and lunch classes. It made me sad! I miss them. I don't miss Suwon or Maple Bear but I miss my favorite kinder kids.

I thought about shipping them some candies to the school and having the new teacher give them the treats during snack time or lunch but I think that would make them feel sad and miss me. It's best not to contact them. I know they're okay and having fun. It's funny how they grew on me.

I can still hear Euro's voice say "I know that you know." She would say that, often in response to me saying, "I know..." Sometimes she would pretend that she didn't understand the assignment and I had to sit down next to her and help her. Or how Emma would stand behind me and mimic my moves while I would look for her in the classroom knowing that she is behind me! Or Sunny's cute way of speaking Korean and English in one sentence and communicating really well at that! Or how the kids during lunch would be so excited when I sat down and ate with them, talking to them. Hmm. My kids!

Palmer in LA

2008-08-18T16:00:00.002-07:00

Hello blog reader. Thought I've given up on this blog, didn't you? I made it back to LaLa Land: nothing has changed. It's still smoggy, crowded and filled with fake people. But you knew that. On the bright side of my return, I am happy to be in my baby's arms each morning and night! We just had a fun weekend in Newport, CA. I am happy to see my mom. She's doing well. Yes, blog reader, I have a mom and wasn't hatched as some sort of X-files experiment.

My days are going well. I'm still applying for jobs but no interviews yet. I did my first load of laundry last night! Wow! Nice, clean laundry with that fresh dryer scent! I've had good Italian food with no corn! I've had good pizza too. I haven't had a bike ride yet.

The weird thing about being back is that every conversation in every restaurant or place I understand completely. Hearing their dumb interactions makes me hate people! I found a lot of Koreans in Suwon rude but I did not hate them. Here, in the States, I understand the language spoken and decided that I hate people's conversations about their stupid lives.

Well, that's all for now. Getting ready to pick up my baby. Hope you all had a great day!

What?!

2008-08-08T21:02:00.004-07:00

Last week the Director asked me to work Monday and Tuesday (August 11 and 12) of this coming week. No problem. They are short staffed and I am getting paid to teach so what the hey... Later, in an email, he said I am to work the morning of August 11 and all day on the 12th. I need to do close my bank account and transfer my money on Aug 12 and it wasn't clear, in his email, if he meant I should teach the afternoon of the 11th too! I called him on his cell phone after 8pm. He said that the schedule is on his office computer and that all the teachers have maxed out their hours, so he wanted me to work all day on the 12th . I told him that I prefer not to teach the morning of the 12th but can teach the 11th. And, does he mean only the am on the 11th? He still wasn't clear. I told him, as a matter of fact, that B hasn't maxed out his hours and if he could work the morning of the 12th, that would be helpful to me. The Director said he would think about it.

Yesterday, the Director emailed me and B. He told B that he will work the morning of the 12th. That will give B 23 hours that week! A record! He is the only teacher that works 20 hours; the rest of us are 29 or 30 hours a week. All of us are maxed out in hours? Huh?!

In his latest email I will work the am of the 11th only and have my regular Tuesday (Aug 12th) schedule. I get to do my banking and say good bye to my kids with an official party! It's still not clear if I am to work the lunch hour on the 11th! WTF!!

The Director is never clear in his emails. He writes well but is purposely ambiguous. It's very frustrating. Even in person he evades answers or goes around the subject. He has a military background in "intelligence", nice training, eh?

Old posts wither away, as clouds disperse on a cloudy day

2008-08-06T20:17:00.004-07:00

I wrote this blog entry last August 6, 2008 when my job was ending in Korea and I was heading back to L.A. to join my gf and live happily ever after. I saved it as a draft b/c she told me that she flet embarrassed about mentioning her name in another post and with my written display of affection.

I feel okay since we broke up in August 13, 2009, a year later. We learned our lesson, finally. After a few tries and tribulations, we have and for good, broken up. If any of my or her friends read this, please remind us of the lessons gleamed. Thank you.

I will be in another intimate relationship and I wonder if my future gf will be freaked out by this blog entry? Will she be mature enough to realize that my heart has loved before she was in my life? That peanut butter and music are part of my soul? Or will she be too insecure and think negative thoughts and ask that it be taken down from blogger? How will I feel about that?

Old post from August 6, 2008:

...As many of you know, I love my GF. She's the most beautiful woman in the world! She's my music, my peanut butter. Huh? For those of you who don't know my love for music and peanut butter, let it be known that these three things I love and cannot do without!

The day of my arrival is fast approaching. I am giddy. Happy. I can't wait to be in her sweet arms to hold and hug her tight! Hmm.

Letter about my employment and replacement

2008-08-06T01:07:00.004-07:00

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

Dear (Enter your favority language institute here) Family,

Mr. Matthew’s last day is fast approaching. He has agreed to stay until August 12, before returning to his home and future employment. His classes will be taught by Mr. A from Canada. He is a writer and has a high interest in running. He has been getting to know some of the students in the school and is already well liked by them. I am confident that Mr. A will be a great teacher for our students.

Sincerely,

Director
*****************************************
Hello blog readers. You've just read the letter I received on official letter head yesterday from the Director. I've edited the name of the new teacher. The Director wanted me to distribute this letter to my EAS 3 class. I don't know if the same letter or equivalent went out via mail for my other classes, IKP and IEP3. This is how business is done here. Not a very good introduction to Mr. A. Does he even have teaching experience? What does running have to do with taking over my classes? Hmm.

Drinking beer with a straw while watching "Mummy 3"

2008-08-04T20:14:00.005-07:00

As liberal as America is, we don't have available yet, beer for sale in all movie theatres. During my summer break, I went to see the movie "Mummy 3" at the Megabox at the COEX mall in Seoul last week. It's a huge 16 screen theatre located in the underground shopping center called COEX. I bought my ticket and headed for the concession stand where soda, pop corn, churros and beer were available. I ordered my Korean Hite beer for about $3.00 and headed to the theatre with my seat assignment in hand. The beer was cold and served in a plastic "Solo" style container. I think the beer is terrible but the experience of drinking a beer while watching a movie is so cool that I did it.

My last week at this Canadian Maple Leaf Hogwan

2008-08-04T19:30:00.005-07:00

Well, the school in its management brilliance has asked me to work two days before I leave next week. It seems that the two new teachers, a married couple, don't arrive until August 17th and the Director needs to figure out how to cover or combine different level classes with three teachers leaving and one new teacher here. I told him that I will work next Monday (possibly) and Tuesday (definitely) and leave Suwon on Wednesday (you bet I will) for Los Angelez. Reminds me of that Arlo Guthrie song: "Coming into Los Angeleez, bringin in a couple of keys...don't touch my bag, if you please, Mr. Customs man..." Yes, blog reader I am going to smuggle in two kilos of kim chi through customs. Watch me, now!

Of course I get paid for my time working. I am helping them out because they need me and I feel okay about doing that. Plus, I get to see my favorite class one last time. Oh, those stinky little kids! By helping the school out, I am also helping Bernard and others who may be asked to work more hours and since I was planning on spending money in Seoul for two days shopping, I figure I could save some cash, earn some cash and help out my fellow prisoners!

All the teachers and teacher assistants, who are Korean, filled out these anonymous surveys two months ago and sent them to HQ. This hogwan is a Canadian franchise, BTW. Did they ever read the complaints and comments about management? I talked to a lot of teachers here and they unloaded on paper a host of things that should make HQ raise their eyebrows and take some action!

Marketing Starbuck Nation and the socialization of consumers

2008-08-03T05:13:00.012-07:00

Welcome to the world of Starbuck Nation.

I'm reading a book called The Starbucks Experience, written by Joseph Michelli, a PhD in organization psychology and published last year (2007). As some of you know, I am a big coffee and tea drinker and at one time, wanted to open my own coffee shop. After working at a major coffee chain and an independent, it was a nice idea and dream. A romantic notion of the sexiness of coffee and the cool seduction of a beautiful product mixed with music and roasted beans.

Starbuck Nation is the world we live in today. They care about their employees by offering stock options, medical for part timers (20 hours of more), they use an independent agency to verify their CAFE standards of growing and trading in foreign countries, they are meticulous about coffee quality. I don't think their coffee is as good as Peets, by that doesn't matter. The blog entry is not about coffee or how wonderful Starbucks is as an corporate entity. Starbucks, a most visible and progressive corporation, has uncovered a bunch of thoughts and feelings I have that make me think that there is something intrinsically wrong with our society where corporations continually look for ways to motivate and inspire employees and to create a Third Place where people are connecting by monetary transactions.

Starbucks uses five principles, outlined in a green pamphlet, that are simple to use and execute in order to make customers happy. It's like Mao's Little Red Book; each employee carries it with him or her, reading the simple, almost folk-like guiding principles which give the employee the power to make every customer's experience consistently good and expected in any Starbucks anywhere in the world. Wow! It bothers me that people connect during a transaction in a corporate setting.

The Starbucks Experience, that the author raves about, has created an emotional feeling and attachment that customers and employees feel and act upon. The book is full of testimonials of real and regular people who seek out this Experience, to duplicate everywhere and talk about it like Starbucks is a friend or a comfort in their hectic lives. This is corporate marketing genius and synthesis: creating a Third Place where people know your drink preferences, your name perhaps and an intimate setting for bonding the customer to the product. On a basic level, Starbucks is one of the most visible and viable drug dealers in the world. Their caffeine delivery system vis a vis coffee is helping to create and condone addict behavior. On another level, their Five Priniciples for creating an intimate customer experience is changing people's attitudes about corporations being our friends.

Starbucks, like other corporations such as Apple, have created an emotional bond between customer and product. We should not have a connection with a corporation or it's product because it's based upon a paid transaction that is not a real or genuine experience. We think it's real, of course, we know that the sales person is not our friend, we also know that the product brings us joy but we are forgetting, I think, that this bond is transparent and only in the name of profit. We are being misguided and mislead to a point where we become acclimated to corporations buying up real estate and planting their seeds (products) in convenient locations for us to buy and enjoy. I am not against Starbucks or their seemingly good corporate practices. I am against creating false transactions which allow a soulless corporation to become one that has a "heart" and conscious. If this is the case, as it has been for a time, then we should hold corporations and their stakeholders (Board of Directors, shareholders) personally and legally responsible for any ill will and bad behaviors. Corporations are soulless places, entities governed and protected socially and legally and operate in a vacuum. If we change the standing of a corporation, then a customer, who is "craving" their pretentious latte with add ons, can feel great that the people who are practicing the Starbucks Experience are doing good in the world and not some marketing plan to make employees and customers zombies.

Today, we must empower employees to enable them to have control and authority so that they can provide a great experience to customers. Most companies figured this out and since this translates into more profit, it is almost expected of progressive corporations. Organizations are still vertical but this top-down authority has changed allowing happy employees to serve their hopefully happier customers. Cha-ching go the registers. Work has never been more fun! Ping-pong, 15 minute messages, dry cleaning on the premises, child care and the like. Is it ever about empowering people or is it just management finding more ways to make more money?

Before Starbucks instituted their five principles to their front line proletariat, were their owners in HQ wondering around aimlessly in Seattle, without some corporate philosophy to inspire them to feel good about or were they worried about high turnover and keeping costs down? The book interviews slews of upper management; I've never read about so many corporate layers and departments. It's worse than UCLA! Are people really sheep and must rally behind some pseudo corporate principles/philosophy? What were these managers thinking and doing before they got hooked on Starbucks rhetoric? Were they spewing and spouting their former companies philosophy in also a zealous way? Have they've changed philosophies like a hooker has changed pimps?

The author makes it seem that every body interviewed, from management to the barista, can smoothly articulate the Starbucks Experience for a thirty second sound bite. That's a wonderful accomplishment, I guess. However, this is One Corporate Mind. Is this how marketing hooks people and "brain wash" them into some sort of corporate belief system? The Five Prinicples are like the Tao De Ching or is is Register de Ching? Sorry, I couldn't resist!

The book uses a lot of real testimonials from inside and outside Starbucks. Regular, real people who speak reverently about Starbucks like it's their friend. It's marketing brilliance, really. There are thousands of people who feel wonderful about this company like a good and loyal friend. Am I missing something here? I don't have these feelings for any company. I like Peet's Coffee. I like Coffee Bean's coffee and tea. I like Toyota cars. Has Starbucks marketing created zombies out of people? Are we now going to have coffee World Wars now? The Allies are Starbucks and Peets and the Axis Powers are Coffee Bean and Doutor?

On page 92 the author wrote about how Starbucks gave away coffee for a citywide coffee break to train commuters. The author makes it seem that the main goal was to celebrate and surprise commuters and was not a gimmick to get customers into a Starbucks. This citywide coffee break was coordinated with Starbucks celebrating their Fair Trade Certification of coffee and got much attention. Michelli, the author, spoke enthusiastically about management wanting to surprise their customers, as part of their five principles. He made it seem that surprising customers was the only priority of the free coffee day and not the announcement of their good Fair Trade advocacy. Stupid. I'm not naive. Maybe it was poor editing but it was a marketing gimmick which surprised many but did not surprise the naive. In other words, amid the upper managers professing how making a customers' day is important for Starbucks, they are busy preening and coiffing their corporate image to be do-gooders. It's disgusting. It's fakery. They do want to make a difference in the lives of farmers but their smooth marketing tactics don't fake me out.

Another problem I have is that the author approached Starbucks to write a book when management is figuring out that thier business and that of the coffee industry is heading towards a recession. Starbucks is probably being proactive by allowing the author to research and interview people of Starbuck Nation because they will need to close stores and also cut back on building new ones. How can you continue to grow at five new stores a day? Starbucks has reached their growth in real estate terms and the book's magic is to market their corporate philosophy in order to help guide it to a smooth financial landing. It's imagery. Of course they are only 5 percent of all coffee buyers but they, like the author deftly points out, are the big name in coffee and most watched and criticised.

We want our employers to pay well, offer medical and financial benefits and allow us the freedom to create a work space that allows personal and professional growth. Why do we need to have personal growth from our jobs? It's a job or career. How can I get personal growth from an in-adamant object such as a corporation? Personal growth encapsulated in the setting of building and maintaining a business? The corporation cares about profit. It's a legal entity with no responsibility. Would I get personal growth living with a robot? No.

My relative funk

2008-08-02T06:16:00.010-07:00

Hi there blog reader, oh so kind in prescribing to your daily dose of Palmer in Korea! Welcome back. I hope you slept well over there in your part of the world and was kind to rewind (early VCR cassette reference) and not fluff the covers while your significant other was sleeping! hehe.

Today's daily dose is like a sour smelling kim chi smack on your cheek! (Please make your own kung fu sound here! Oi, ya!) Yes, my relative funk. No, I am not in a funk but my relative is. It seems that another relative's birthday is coming up and she doesn't want to cook that day but instead have her family and friends pot luck it or bring some take out. I can understand that, blog reader. Who wants to clean or cook on your birthday? Not Palmer.

The real source of ire is that my relative funk is funky about the time her birthday was forgotten by the other relatives who are close in proximity and in blood. So my relative is feeling angry about that still and has been getting the stink eye a lot from the other relative (are you following or falling asleep?) when she makes her wonderful, delicious food and brings it over. In all fairness, blog reader, only one gives the stink eye and the other just eats and enjoys. Oh, such grievances between the bloods. Good thing she is not a crip, blog reader. If you're not understanding the slang, no worries. Keep reading.

Okay: here are the list of grievances, not in any order, done by Party A (two defendants) to Party B (my relative funk--the title of this entry--or one plaintiff):

1. Party A forgot Party B's B-day and took over one week to realize that (minus 100 score). Duh!

2. Party A forgot to call Party B and say "yes" or "no" to a home cook meal on a big important day (-10)

3. Party A continually makes the stink eye towards Party B's food on most occasions (-10)

4. Party A did not ask Party B about a culinary school for Party A's son nor did that son ask Party B for her thoughts on going to said institute when knowing that Party B is a foodie, etc (-7)

5. Party A lives in their own world (-2. I think we all do)
7. Party A only thinks about their own needs, all the time (-10)

Who's keeping score? Not me--I can't add.

I talked to Party B about talking to Party A about her feelings and grievances. I hope she does. Maybe Party B would be better and healthier (emotionally) not holding a gripe for such a long time against Party A. Not that Party A does not deserve some straightening out. They do. One of Party A's long term issue is the absence of communication of two of his four kids! Wow!

Party A (only one person out of two) may feel insecure about her own cooking and attack Party B's cooking by finding fault. Party A has this lame philosophy, or mabye they don't practice it anymore, where they say, "It's not what I say but how you take what I said." I may have paraphrased it wrong but personally, that's bullshit. When someone gives you the stink eye and makes comments about your cooking--and believe me blog reader--Party B's cooking is wonderful, Party A being a jerk. Or when Party A declares that Party B's soup was a bit off in taste...why volunteer your displeasure? Is that really going to "help" Party B's soup? It's like someone getting a bad haircut (like me in Korea--it's tough cutting curly hair in the land of straight hair) and saying to that person: your hair is really bad. Well, duh! I know my hair is bad. Look: Just don't say anything if you don't like my hair or soup. That's the best method to get along with any Party. Otherwise, you hurt people's feelings which Party B is feeling.

White people are not made for tropical countries

2008-08-01T04:58:00.010-07:00

Oh fellow and fellow-a blog readers. White people or westerners in Korea sweat like pigs. It's really disgusting to see and to feel--I am the white man after all who sweats with the best of them. I've never seen a pig sweat before; all I know they roll in the mud, make cute sounds and later, when chopped up, taste delicious as "Dun-Cas-Su-a" (Korean) or pork cutlet.

Today, I went to Seoul. It was a hot and humid summer day, typical for August. The only time I stopped sweating was inside the Mesa Fashion Mall eating my pork cutlet and talking to Yanne on the phone and on the $2.00 express bus to Seoul. The rest of the time, I sweated like a pig. I sweated walking to the bus stop; I sweated sitting at the bus stop; I sweated leaving the bus. I sweated walking to Gangnam subway entrance (green line); I sweated going to Coffee Bean in Namdamun Market; I sweated at Namdamun Market; I sweated...

White people sweat horribly here in Korea. Koreans don't sweat like whites and when they do, they don't look dreadful. White people are not made for tropical countries. Our shirts stick to our bodies, our hair becomes matted, we stink. Its embarrassing when we raise our arms and uncover our arm stains. We are fat and out of shape and because a lot of us are big people, we seem out of proportion and a direct contrast to the homogeneous Korean of black hair, average height and same style hair cuts. We are like walls of sweat, moving like bovine beasts on the streets of Itaewon. The Korean street vendors sit there, slowly moving their fans to their faces, not a sweat drip on their brows or lips.

White people look like they are going to die in this weather. We are pale and sickly and can barely walk through the lagoon of humidity that lays here all day and night. Koreans never get that shiny, oily gloss that I had all day, on my body. I looked like a red man with my sweaty forehead and arms; my shirt stuck to my chest, my back pack straps making an "X" when I removed it; my eye glasses slipping down my nose, constantly. Koreans' faces don't turn red when in the sun; they don't sweat the kind of sweat where it falls from your shoulders, down your back, following your spine down to your butt crack, creating a reservoir so when you get up to leave your seat, there's a sweat track! Yuck!

White people in Korea are dressed correctly for this tropical heat but they never manage to adjust to it. I haven't yet. It's been six months of a steady diet of kim chi and I still manage to over produce sweat that makes my shirts stink for days. We need to take two or three showers and change our clothes just as often. Koreans take one shower. I haven't become acclimated and there's no magic code to un-sweat genetics.

Summer Break at a hogwan

2008-07-31T01:03:00.009-07:00

It's summer break here at my hogwan. A one week sabbatical from the sounds of laughing kids, crying kids, screaming kids-- all to remind me that I am a teacher. There is no stinky, hot and humid basement to prep my lessons in and certainly no director to watch over us teachers who are consistently late for their classes. He said anyone with three tardies to any class would be dismissed. That has and will never happen. As much as we are indebted to the owner and school, they are also our slaves. They need us much more, however. We have the power, I think.

Yanne posed me the question: Do I miss my kids? I told her that I miss a few of them. The ones who make me laugh; who are fun, cute and cuddly. The others, no. Do I miss my EAS3 (ages 10-12) class of five? Nope. They can barely spell the word "blue" or "black." They are less smart and attentive than my kindergarten (ages 8-10) class of ten! Most of my EAS 3 are lazy and stupid.

My job as a teacher is to inspire, to create lessons that teach them to feel and be less inhibited in speaking and learning English. Where they can experiment with words and sounds. Hasn't happened. They are uninspired, un-focused and loud and obnoxious.

In that class a girl named Ji-Yun is picked on by SunJu and Lilly. They make her cry. They don't want Ji-Yun to sit with them. There are only three girls and the two boys in that EAS class. The boys don't want to sit with Ji-Yun either, which is understandable since they are boys and Ji-Yun is a girl. That little twit SunJu is totally mean towards Ji-Yun in the way that girls are mean to each other. It's really ugly. I feel bad for Ji-Yun. She is quirky and they are conventional and too cool for her. I've had the associate director come up and give the mean girls a little pep talk. I don't like the two mean girls. The boys are okay. But they detract from the class with their antics.

A while back I wrote about one of my students named Amy who was hit by her mother for not performing well in English class. Well, that Amy in my IEP3 class is still performing great but is a bratty and obnoxious kid who I don't like anymore. Maybe this is the result of her abuse or she is becoming a teenager or both or neither.

I worked really hard in that class and the kids are still bored. We've planted tomatoes, cared for them, used the Internet to learn about soil and tomatoes. We've read a play, done poetry, written silly things like "Dung is a good food to eat." I'm struggling with them. Maybe I am a terrible teacher or maybe they are so busy and feel forced to take English classes to appease their over worked parents. I feel frustrated with them.

My favorite class is my advance IKPA, kindergartners who are cute and fun and enjoy the learning process but do get bored. Most of them I like. We have fun with English, as in my other classes, but they seem to enjoy it and have fun. I like all of them but a few I missed this week.

There's Euro (her English name), a very funny girl who makes me laugh when she pretends she is mad at me and "scolds" me in Korean. I don't know what she is saying to me but the other kids are rolling on the floor in laughter. She may grow up to be a comedienne one day. She's a sweat heart who needs help with everything though. She can do the work but she decides not to. I sometimes need to stand or sit next to her to have her write faster and complete her work. She likes to raise her hand and answer questions. Recently, she decided it would be more fun if she raised her foot instead. Now, the other kids are copying her. In fact, they have fake phone conversations with their feet. They pretend their feet are telephones and raise it up to their ears to talk. (Phone rings...)"Yo-bo-say-o?"

Then there's Emma who finds everything I plan too easy and too slow especially when we play Simon Says. She is a very smart kid who has a real facility for languages. She's fun to teach and loves when I read to her. She gives me parts to read in the book and she will read the other parts aloud. Very cute and fun.

Dennis is like the super genius in that class. He gets everything. He is an ESL sponge. He's cute and fun and loves to draw. The class is too easy for him though. He will be ready in a few months for the next level and I look forward to helping him get there. He sits next to Ronnie James Dio, the dumb kid I wrote about who dropped two months ago and is now back, asthma and all. Dio is actually really bright so I don't know if he had a brain IQ spurt or he is maturing in age. I feel bad for him because he breathes really heavily. Maybe this interfered with his learning process. He is kinda gross. For example, he will sneeze and snot will be like two green daggers hanging from his nose. Disgusting. After a while he'll ask if he can get a tissue. Dio!

Then there's Sunny (her English name). She is a special kid who is so intuitive and insightful it may verge on being psychic. She is a joy to teach and has a wonderful sense of humor. She has said things to me in English that have been weirdly psychic. One day I was feeling down and she was talking to me in Korean and English asking me questions about how I feel. It was great. She has a big heart. She's in my lunch class twice a week and I had her and the other kids talk to Yanne on the phone. Sunny was asking if Yanne is my friend or girl friend and wanted to know how serious we are! Cute!

I have a few more days off before going back to work. I've been sight seeing, relaxing and playing Palmer style basketball. I am having fun and looking forward to next week, my last working week at the hogwan.

I Can't post my Comments

2008-07-28T23:22:00.007-07:00

Hello blog readers! For the past four days, there have been website javascript errors on all the computers here at Joy PC Bong, the place where I write my blog entries from. I've tried different computers at different stations and at different times of the day. That makes me sad! But today it worked! I wanted to say thank you all for your comments the last week and for the last six months too! Thank you.

Safety and well-being in Korea

2008-07-27T05:50:00.006-07:00

Suwon has a population of about 1.1 million people. It's an urban area. The main street which I ride my bicycle to and from work, consists of eight lanes and a maximum speed limit of 60mph. The city of Suwon is a large sprawl of apartment buildings, businesses, buses and at 4am, it's common to have traffic jams. With this in mind, I am continually amazed of the feeling of safety I feel and see here.

Parents leave their young child/ren sleeping in their cars, windows down, doors open, parked on the side walk while their parent/s are out of sight. Families walk together, their young kids running ahead, cars speeding by and scooter delivery guys sharing the side walk. Kids, ages 6-18 walking alone, during the day or late at night, to and from school. Families eating dinner at a restaurant; the child finishes her dinner, says nothing to her mom and dad, leaves the restaurant and rides her bicycle down the busy street. This would never happen in Los Angeles or any major urban area. People are scared. Bad things happen. Here in Korea, however, there is a trust among people. For example, although bicycles do get stolen or vandalized there is no incentive to steal one here. Most people have the same style of bicycle called a Lespo and what market is there for those Lespos when everyone has one or can buy a new one for $80?

Last August of 2007, I road my bicycle in Chico and San Luis Obisipo (SLO). I was looking for a new place to live and work and did a four day road trip up north. One of my litmus tests for safety is riding my bike in the morning and late at night. I had the same feeling of safety in those two places as I do here, in a city of 1.1 million people. I love it. People feel safe here. There are no guns owned by individuals, gang violence is very little, there are no "race" issues, people are college educated especially women and sharing is part of their culture. But I don't know the stats of safety and such and I am still guessing why safety here is not an issue like it is back in the States.

Cutting costs or good customer service?

2008-07-25T01:20:00.004-07:00

As some of you know I like to patronize several restaurants in my area. One is Miso-Ya, a Japanese place that serves breaded cutlets, and the other, called (I forget right now!) that serves Mon-du and bibimbap. For the most part, they know I am a teacher and that I live or work near their restaurants. They do know my eating habits, however!

The other day I ate dinner with Bernard, a fellow teacher, at the Mon-du place in the Gok. The waitress commented to Bernard, in Korean, that I didn't finish my rice and it would be more cost effective if I ordered something else in which I can finish. Then on Saturday, after my kindergarten six year olds, I went to the Mon-du place again and ordered bibimbap. This time the waitress told me, in Korean, that I don't eat much rice so she would give me extra vegetables! I thanked her. Is this cutting costs or good customer service?

On Wednesday of this week, I ate at the Japanese restaurant and ordered my favorite dish, number 28. It is cooked rice with lots of vegetables and fresh, chopped sashimi. I think it's tuna. Not sure. I put some red paste over it for some spice and chow down, "chop chop" Korean style. Ooo! The cooks know I am not big on eating a lot of rice. Rice likes to settle in my gut region messing up my sexy abs. On Wednesday, she gave me a ton of extra lettuce. But today's number 28 had a 50 percent reduction in the rice! Is this cutting costs or good customer service?

I think it's cutting costs. Korean owners are very price consciousness and who isn't? I hear from all people that Korea has employment problems. How this translates to being price conscious is a big step! I imagine they cut costs whenever they can and since I am one of the few white westerner men who visit, they definitely notice my eating habits and style! Do they do this with other frequent customers? I dunno.

Korean department stores, restaurants and other service industries are customer-driven experiences. It is really quite good. They are helpful. If they can't help you, they find someone who can.

For example, when I bought my cheap-ass basketball at Home Plus, the representative took a new air pump from the shelf, opened it up and pumped air into the basketball. It was a warm day and he broke a sweat.

Another time I was shopping for Yanne in the cosmetic aisle at E-Mart. I spoke to a nice lady who took me around the whole store telling me about lip products in English. She helped give me choices in selecting something nice for Yanne. In the former and latter experiences, it is good customer service.

I am trying to think of the last time I walked into a Los Angeles restaurant and the waiter or waitress was nice, made eye contact, showed some genuine care or pride and provided great service? Hmm.

Chop Chop

2008-07-23T00:49:00.003-07:00

I wrote about the Sound of Duk in my Ear, now comes a worse sound from Korea: Chop, Chop.

Every Wednesday when I have a break from 3-6pm, I run errands. I sometimes go to the Suwon library in Young-tong (which has books in English) near Home Plus or just read while having an ice mocha at Holly’s Coffee or Coffee Bean. If the weather is good, I stay at Home Plus and eat at their Food Court. There are many selections there of Korean food. And what else would you expect, gringo? However, if the weather is not so good, I stay in the area near the office. That’s when I get full, frontal Chop Chop.

Most Koreans I’ve had the pleasure to share a table or restaurant with, make this sound while eating. When it’s consistent in tempo and not sporadic, it is really irritating and ingratiating. A lot of my kids do it. In fact, they told me the name of the sound: Chop Chop. I say often say “Chop Chop” to them in the classroom in order to have them hurry or finish an activity. They laugh because Chop Chop is the name of the sound people make when eating.

It’s like the sound of smacking lips. It’s like that lazy sound dogs, in particular, make when lapping up their water. I think it’s partly due to people leaving their mouths open when they eat noodles or other food with slurping sounds-- in combination-- that helps make that sound. It’s definitely cultural and very Korean. When people make that sound, however, it’s annoying. Imagine a table of people making that sound.

I seem to have hit the sweet spot of chop, chop in this one Japanese restaurant called Miso-ya. About one block away from my office, this Japanese chain with its clean tables and fresh food and cheap prices beckons the penny wise traveler that I am. Nine out of ten times when it’s Wednesday, when the weather is not good, and I am stuck in the office, I often go to Miso-ya for a late lunch. And if it’s around 4pm, it’s also the time when the staff eats. I try to avoid the place at that time but if I am really hungry and I don’t want Korea food, which is usually the case now because I am burnt out on it, I eat at Miso-ya. Today, I left Miso-Ya with a lot of my food in my bowl: I was assaulted by their chop, chop sounds.

Without sounding like an ethnocentric racist, I’ve tried so many times to sit through a meal with people making that sound and conclude that I don’t like it, it’s annoying and though it’s their culture, they should stop doing it. Please!! Just like restaurants not allowing smoking anymore, maybe a good cultural trend (without making a law) would be for them to stop that noise! Ah! Have mercy on me!

When eating surrounded by Korean people at a restaurant, I always hope the music gets louder or they’re not hungry or I can find a table away from the choppers. But I have not been able to avoid it. I try to embrace it but it’s not working. When they come to America, they quickly realize, if eating with Westerners, that we don’t make that sound and they stop doing it, I hope. Another facet of American Cultural Imperialism working its magic. Maybe Americans make sounds that others don't like? Hmm.

MLK

2008-07-22T21:31:00.004-07:00

My students are reading about holidays in various countries called Days to Remember. It’s part of this Canadian curriculum distributed by my hog-wan here in Suwon. For example, ANZAC Day (Australia/New Zealand), Canada Day and Martin Luther King, Jr. day (MLK) in the U.S.

The unit focuses on these national holidays in attempts to make them aware of the soldiers who fought for freedom, consolidating provinces into a confederation like Canada and those individuals, like MLK, who fought and pushed for civil rights of African-Americans.

The other day I handed them two MLK worksheets. It had a picture of MLK and parts of “I had a dream…” speech. And the other had a comparison chart of MLK and “me” the student.

We did the comparison chart. It asked how many brothers/sisters did King have and how many does the student have. It asked what did King’s mother do for a living and what the kid’s mother does for a living, etc. You get the picture.

After they filled out the comparison chart, we went around the room and asked them the questions from the activity sheet. They liked it, it got them talking. I like when they talk in English.

I thought it would be great time to introduce the sheet with his most famous speech on it. Instead, they immediately started drawing. The kids decided MLK would look better if he had a full on beard, big horse teeth, Zulu style earrings and tattoos on his cheeks. They are very irreverent and disrespectful at the same time. I wonder if students back in the States would do such a thing? Would they do this to one of their Korean leaders of the past? I know I was serious about the lesson and activity but they were not. I am disappointed in them. If you are thinking about teaching English in Korea, maybe you should not.

All Apologies...

2008-07-22T19:54:00.005-07:00

The other day, blog reader, I had an entry about a dude who bought my Korean made steel string guitar. He was out of it every time I called to confirm or give him directions to Seryu Train Station here in the Gok (AKA Gok-Pan). Maybe he was sick. If you read the blog entry, he wanted me to hand him the guitar over the exit rail so he wouldn't pay for the train fare even though it costs .80 cents. I thought he was going to run away with my guitar and kindly asked him to exit so he could sit down and play the instrument. I sold the guitar. Anyways, a day after the sale, he sent this email to me (a direct, unedited quote):

"Hey, sorry I was pretty angry because I had walked around a new station that wasn't on my map and got stuck there for an hour. I had to backtrack to the station on my map and switch trains, while my map said it was all one line that I could sit on. Anyway, thanks for the guitar!"

How about that?! An explanation of his behavior that day which is an apology too. When was the last time you got one of these? If you're like most people, it's pretty rare, I think. Wouldn't it be great if people could do this often?

In Korea many friends settle silly disputes by saying: Paper, Scissors, Rock. In Korean it's "Gao-ee, Bow-ee, Bow." They do the best out of three. The person who wins, gets his/her way or whatever the bet or dispute is about. My students also do this game but a lot of them cheat by changing their hand shapes in order to win. In any case, it would be cool if world conflicts could be resolved this way, peacefully. Wouldn't that be fun?

"Honey, I want to see the film 'Wanted'," he says to his baby.

"No, I want to see 'Sex in the City'," she replies.

"Oh, no! Not that! You made me sit through a whole season and I'm not doing that again..."

"I sat through two seasons of X files..."

"Yes, I know but you have a mad crush on Agent Fox Mulder."

"No, YOU have a crush on Agent Scully! By the way, what kind of name is that?"

"Let's decide the movie," he says, "Well, do Paper, Scissors, Rock. Ready?"

He lost.

Moral of this blog entry: When you get a sincere apology, take it, show the world, publish it, share it with family and friends. However, when you lose a bet to your SO (significant other), grin and bear it! :)

Homeward Bound

2008-07-21T02:19:00.008-07:00

I am homeward bound in 10 working days or 20 calendar days if you include weekends. Yeah! I am excited to be with Yanne, family and friends. The only thing I will miss about Korea is bicycling to work.

Over 2 billion people do this daily without a desire to be stuck in traffic, listening to some jackass' loud stereo reverberating through their car or paying $4 a gallon. I love to bike to work. The sidewalks here are wide enough for me and the dozens of moped/scooter delivery guys who share the bike path. Yes, a little dangerous. Living 20-25 minutes away from work is a small item that I will miss about Suwon. Another item about Korea I will miss is.......nothing.

I think I understand why a lot of Koreans prefer living in Western countries. Our lifestyle, overall, is better. Our air, our infrastructure, medicine, education (post-secondary) all are strong pull agents. I'll miss hanging with Bernard and playing basketball at the local park court that needs some urgent maintenance. Nothing else comes to mind. Sad, maybe.

What about the students? I won't miss them. They are fun, cute and cuddly but managing their behavior takes up a lot of class time. They are mostly bratty and uninspired to learn a second language at this time. Maybe their teacher is uninspired too? I often refer to it as "baby sitting." Expensive baby sitting. I keep them occupied with good English activities but they get out of hand. They're kids. They want to play. It's not a good job and school management is not very good either although the owner is honest and a good guy. I imagine teaching is the same in inner city schools minus the guns, gangs, drugs, beatings, bomb threats and the like.

I needed Korea for financial, mental and emotional reasons I have written about before. I was in a funk. I go home to Yanne, family and friends and start new.

Selling stuff in Korea

2008-07-20T05:03:00.004-07:00

Hello blog readers. I have used Craigslist.org here in Korea and sold some of my stuff already! I love that website. I got two hits on my cheap Korean bike, one on the guitar and one on the am/fm radio, but the latter was an Internet Paypal type scam. Not me, wise blog reader! I don't fall for that!

I went to a LA public library lecture given by Craig Newmark, the Creator of Craigslist, about two years ago. Rest assured, paranoid blog users. He's one of us, the peeps, workers, proletariat. Looking after for our Internet brethren. Fighting the spam, keeping the Internet free. One of his values is helping society. Although some may criticize him at that, what have you done lately for bettering society?

I sold my acoustic guitar today to some dude named Peter. Every single time I talked to him on the phone, he seemed so out of it! I called him at 12:30pm; it sounded like he just woke up. I called him another time at 7pm, it sounded like...he just woke up. He confused Suwon Station with Seryu Station today. He made me nervous. I could sense the "flake factor" creeping in. Like that terminology? So, I called him to confirm two times. He showed up at the Seryu subway station today--the correct station. It was pouring f-in rain. Typhoon. Raining baboons. Little baby baboons scratching themselves and throwing dung at everyone. I've never seen so much rain!

Anyway, he insisted that I hand him the guitar over the exit guard rail to inspect and play. WTF? No way! He could just run off with it! I would need a subway token just to enter and chase after him! He had one of those Korean T-Money plastic, rechargeable cards for the subway/rail transportation. The card is $3 and the refills are $5. Each ride on the subway is like 80 cents! Cheap bastard! It would cost him like 80 cents to exit and sit down and play the guitar he wants to buy! I told him no. Forgettabout. He relented and exited the turnstile and sat down and played. He liked the guitar. He bought it for 50.00 and off I went to wait for the 83-1 Suwon bus.

In two weeks I will sell my bike and hopefully my stereo. Anyone interested?

Ya!

2008-07-16T21:39:00.012-07:00

The title hopefully got your attention. That’s what I learned in writing class back in high school. An interesting title. Well, this blog entry is about this Italian guy who is now living in my apartment.

I've been told I am "mellow" by more than a few people in my life. When that many people say that, you can believe them, right? My mood is generally the same; I am even-keeled about most things. On the rare occasion, however, when I get angry this big Italian mafia guy from Sicily appears, like my second shredded skin, with a stiletto in one hand and a 9mm gun in the other. The last month or two I am finding that Italian guy visiting often. It's like a 1950s Bogart film: the dark figure is sitting in my chair, the lights are out but the light from the outside casts a shadow, he's smoking a Camel and flipping a coin waiting for me to get home! The conversation goes like this:

"We got a job to do," Guido says in his horse accented voice.

"Oh, yeah?" I respond sounding like a tough guy. Guido stands up and walks over to me, pointing his finger.

"That Korean cab driver...let him have it!"

So I did! Guido let loose on that old "ajasi" asshole cab driver who was aggravated with me because I wasn't fast enough giving him his cab fare.

"Wait I minute!," I yelled. He muttered something.

"I am counting the fucking money from five people," I continued. He gestured wildly.

"What the fuck? Just fucking wait! Why is everyone in a fucking hurry in this country?!" but he didn't understand. By this time my co-workers have vacated the taxi. I don't know if they were scared. One of them asked, "Hey, Matt. Who was that Italian guy?"

The other day I am riding my Lespo 21 speed bike, a staple here in Korea; no one steals them because everyone has one. They're heavy, steel framed bikes with some dude named Sam Chully name on every seat. Every time I sit down, Sam gets some ass. Anyway, some mother f!#$er cuts in front of me. I hear Guido yell "Ya!" The driver ignored it. At least once a week this happens. You get cut off, Guido yells, and I feel better! Ya!

Koreans yell "ya" which means "hey!" It could be a toned down-between-friends "ya" which is "hey" or the elaborate, lung-busting-you-piece-of-shit"Ya!" which means "Hey!" It reminds me of Gary Larson's Far Side comic panel where a scientist discovers what dogs really say when they bark. The scientist's instrument panel translates dogs barking into the word "hey." Everything they say is "hey, hey, hey." Ya! YA! YA!!

I'm at the local grocery store, recently renovated, enlarged and re-stocked with the much needed and added PA system which the owner or manager uses by wireless mic to make announcements. I am shopping and all of a sudden, that mother F-er starts his ear-piercing 15 minute sales pitch! He won't shut the F-up! He's loud. He's obnoxious. He uses "ya" a lot. He talks to people shopping in the vegetable and fruit aisle. All of sudden, Guido's coin hits the floor and I hear: "No one is buying your crap! Go to the dry goods aisle, that's where your real margins are!" It's like that yelping dog next door that barks "hey" all the time, at inconvenient intervals, it drives me mad! Guido yells "Ya" at the man but he is too busy selling stuff to no one who is listening.

The other day me, Bernard and Lisa are eating at Miso-Ya (there's that word again) and four middle school girls, in their light blue blouses and navy blue skirts come in and sit down at the adjacent table.

"Oh, boy" I mumble to myself. "They're going to yap and talk loudly, giggle, argue the way any middle school girl or boy do..." and I black out. The next thing I know, Guido is telling them loudly: "Can you guys sit over there?!" They look scared. The next twenty minutes is peaceful: no loud middle school talk just me and my coworkers talking among ourselves. Later, my coworkers ask, "Matt, who was that Italian guy who just left?" Ya.

I know my patience will be back to normal in the States. This country drives you to the edge; people are sometimes more rude, busy and stoic about things then back home. You develop a hair trigger response. And when you do respond, people give you space. It's the polite thing to do.

Ruined Shirts

2008-07-14T21:41:00.000-07:00

The other day, it was hot and humid. Like the geek I am, I place my pen in my engineer type ugly striped dress shirt pocket. It’s convenient and enhances my image of being so suave and cool. It’s efficient and until now, no spillage, no leaks. I know others will follow my fashion style since I am breaking new paths in what is acceptable here in Korea! Anyway, by mid afternoon, there’s a huge, blue splotch on my shirt! The pen leaked! And when I was sitting down, the shirt had folded unto itself causing the splotch to multiply by three! Now I have three ink stains. No one noticed in my kinder class! That’s okay and typical…

Another time I was in my kinder lunch class and Peter, holding his crotch and doing the pee-pee dance, asked if he could go to the bathroom. I said “Yes, go! Hurry.” The next thing I know he has dropped his pants and he is butt naked! In the middle of class, the students are eating and no one notices that Peter is butt naked and about to pee! I yelled, “No, not here! Run to the bathroom!” He picked up his pants and dashed off. The students acted like it was normal…

I threw away the cheap ass Mon Ami 153 pen which hasn’t changed at all since I was last here in Korea in 1997. And still, no pen clips! WTF?! How can you not have a pen clip? That’s ridiculous. Every time I bend over the pen flops out like boxer shorts without a front button.

When I went home that evening I took off the shirt and saw that the blue ink blotched my stomach and chest, too. I spent ten minutes rubbing it out of my skin. I soaked the shirt in detergent for one hour and threw it in the wash. The ink stains were still there. Three of them. I threw the shirt out. Forgettabout!!

The next day I took the shirt and garbage bag out for collection. I went up stairs and did another load of laundry, took a shower, ate breakfast, yada yada yada. When it was time to hang up the laundry in my small patio, that bloody blue ink stained shirt was still there! WTF? I threw that puppy out, I thought! Then, I realized that I threw out the other ugly striped dress shirt which is like the ugly striped dress and stained shirt! In all the confusion of being me, I didn’t pay close attention. After all, one stripped line shirt does look like another strip line shirt; the many I have! I ran downstairs but the garbage was already collected. Shit: now I am out of two dress shirts!

Palmer is leaving Korea

2008-07-10T21:35:00.002-07:00

I met with the director and owner of my hogwan (pronounced "hog won") a couple of weeks ago and my official last day is August 10, 2008. If they hire a new teacher sooner than that, I can go home before then. If they don't hire anyone by August 10, I can go home on August 10 and not pay for the airfare and visa fees the owner shelled out to get Palmer's ass in Korea! I've been here less than six months so I am liable for those fees. The owner said I don't need to pay him back. Cool, no problem.

In case you're wondering, I am not interested in teaching in Korea again and if I did want to, I would need to leave the country, go back home and renew my work visa, get finger printed again and an apostille showing that I am not a criminal, all at my cost. Besides, Yanne and I are officially in love and we are planning our future in Los Angeles. Though Taipei might still be in the picture for us at a later date...who knows. I have applied to jobs in Los Angeles. I have a lot that look interesting that fit my skill set. My resume is updated, my references are in order and my cover letters are customized for each position.

I feel okay about my stay in Korea ending. I have saved some money and learned a few things about my self and my teaching abilities and Korean culture. Although the director thinks my "rough housing" games are a big no-no, he and the assistant director, who have observed my classes, and read my lesson plans, think that my teaching is actually good. I actually got a referral letter from the Director which says my teaching is excellent. Yesterday, he sent a follow up email, out of his Directorial kindness, saying my teaching and classes have improved.

Anyway, he got rid of me and now this hogwan is down four teachers--in August four are leaving! I don't think I'm not a good match for teaching (some spoiled and bratty) kindergarten and elementary kids. I think they're funny and warm but I'd rather teach middle, high school or adults. Maybe it's my patience or maybe the kids are just impossible. Hmm. Sometimes I think I just needed a long "vacation," away from everything.

I was at a cross roads in my life and needed some major changes to propel me forward, to shake me loose and get a newer perspective. I love to travel and maybe it was too long a time away from the road? I have Yanne again and I feel very happy and good as we plan a future out with so many possibilities. I appreciate her in every way, her smarts, her beauty, and just her! It's been difficult for her and me, planning and talking the long distance, the continents and admire her for exploring and finding out her feelings about us and what we are planning for the future.

For the past three months we've been in constant communication and have begun a life affirming, love process, if you will (it's corny, I know. And there is beautiful violin music playing to accompany this love we have!). We love each other. We've known each other for years and I think we've grown as people and we will grow more as a couple. We will be together soon and that matters the most!

Thus spoke the Vomit Man of Gok-Pan

2008-07-03T06:41:00.014-07:00

This has been a disgusting month. First there are bits of yellow corn on my pizza and in my spaghetti sauce and then there is: Vomit Man! Before launching his projectile vomit your way, here is some of my own, in diatribe Palmer in Korea, fashion. BTW, happy past Fourth of July to ya Yanks out there! May America live long and prosper (Star Trek reference) while it continues to launch its missives onto peaceful or hostile countries whenever they interfere with our George Bushian "way of life."

Gok-pan (pronounced Goak) is in Suwon, South Korea. That's where I live. Please don't envy me. I know you do. I hear it in your voices over the phone. You say things like, "when are you coming back to L.A.?" Look, I have a pretty good lifestyle here. I bike to work. I live twenty minutes away. I don't pay rent. I work less than 40 hours a week. I actually am saving money. Of course I teach bratty kids but you knew that. I know you envy me for quitting a great job, selling my car, storing my junk and ejecting myself from the first world of America into a very polluted, noisy, confusing society of Korea that builds first and asks questions later. Well, sorry to disappoint you, Go-Pan fans, it is a dirty, noisy and disgusting place. Not all places are like Gok-Pan mind you. I miss my Yanne. In any case, I am venting: I can't sleep very well in the summer.

People are yelling at 2am on the street. I close my windows and I can still hear them. They scream and scream. Why are they screaming? Because they are drunken bastards who show no respect for the sober ones sleeping! Ay!! People come home drunk to my building, there shoes clicking loudly on the marble floor, cell phone ringers, loud and obnoxious. In my apartment I can do the white glove dust test and find a new, fresh layer of Gok-Pan dust every day on my furniture. Its the heavy industrial type too. Nice, black, fresh!

There are a few empty lots in Gok-pan where people spontaneously throw their refuse and furniture. (See the side bar for the picture of the scarecrow, located in one of those lots) Wild, feral cats walk the street. Some in heat, others looking for food. They tear open those yellow compost bags (see picture on side bar) and eat the food. My building's elevator chimes every three to four minutes; one for arriving and two for the ground floor. People are always slamming their doors. People are yelling at each other in the building. Couples fighting. Couples fucking.

Outside the building the good people of Gok-pan have gathered in front to loiter. Kids play soccer or race each other at night in front of my building. "Go somewhere else!," I yell. They just look at me. The cheap wooden gate that is in front of the ground floor restaurant has been knocked down and ripped away! Even the cafe/bar is closed down, vacated. On the street you hear people yelling and they are only asking for driving directions! If you want a good night's rest, don't live here. Gok-Pan is like that river area of State Line, the California-Nevada area, where all the college and older dudes go party each summer to get drunk on boats and throw their bikini tops off. And then there's the vomit. The main point of this blog entry.

In Gok-Pan vomit paddies line the street like twister-dots of different colors. Each weekend drunken Korean men drink heavily, vomit, stagger home or pass out in taxis. Their heads like chickens, swinging from side to side. Korean vomit is a colorful mix of food and that awful soju drink they like because its cheap and of course, their beer. Korea has these beer brands: Cass, Hite, Cafri and OB Lager-- all are terrible. They're cheap and would not survive a global market if better beer was allowed in without the heavy import tariffs. I could not imagine walking into a Western bar and asking the bartender without a smile, "A Hite draft, please."

One night of last I am riding my bicycle towards the Galbi restaurant a lot of the teachers like in my neighborhood. Suwon is the Galbi capital of Korea but the Galbi (barbecue pork) restaurants in Gok-Pan that serve the delicious delicacy, are not very good. I'm not sure if they really like the food or if it's just convenient for them. It doesn't matter.

Anyway, an older guy in his 50s or 60s, wearing a dark suit, has just left that restaurant, staggering. I follow his zig-zag path from behind him, left to right, then right to left. He is searching for his car keys or cell phone. I think to myself, "god, no! I don't want this fucker driving home. He could hurt someone." Then I realize he is just walking home. As I am passing him on my bike, I turn and look over my left shoulder. His eyes are red and glazed over and there's a steady vomit stream coming out of his mouth. It's yellow and viscous. He is walking and vomiting at the same time. He swallows it, it comes out again. It's on his jacket. It's beer colored. At a nearby table at another restaurant, others are watching him in silence. He is staggering and I am laughing in disgust and amazement of his drunken prowess. Thus spoke the Vomit Man of Gok-pan. I love Korea. I ride away as he turns the corner towards home.

When coworkers remind you of relatives

2008-07-01T03:56:00.010-07:00

One of the nice things about moving 6,900 miles away from the States is that those relatives I didn't like stay at home. At first emails are sent to say "hiya doing" and then after a while, they are no longer on your minds nor theirs. It is the natural order of things: when you are out of sight, you are often out of mind. Especially with those marginal relatives (think cousins, whatevers, etc) who you felt obliged to be nice to and visit on occasion with your mom or dad. They feel a relief too, I imagine. They may ask "how is (insert what's-his/her" name) doing?" but it's often not sincere or genuine. They know by asking by proxy that they are being nice. I'm not complaining, you see. Being so far away gives me an excuse and distance something that I like because when the math is done (simple subtraction), I didn't care for them that much and now it's obvious to them as is to me: nobody cared for each other...They would go to my funeral though.

You could argue that if they really cared about me, in spite of my malfeasance, they could have maintained contact. But, they didn't. You could argue that I should have maintained contact but I didn't. It rinses out in the wash, as they say in that cliche. I'm not complaining, you see.

We put up with our relatives (marginal and others) with their antics, inconsiderate behavior, we give them so much lee-way in being "who they are" simply because they are blood relatives. Who wants that anymore? Hmm. By not communicating with them shown that our culture and society has moved beyond blood ties? Is it the paradox of email that the more convenient it is to communicate, the less we do so? Has "losing" the traditional family arrangement made our society stronger or weaker or just indifferent? Is there anything gained or lost? The great thing about family, you can pick up where you left off from. So, in a month or year or two I could drop by and say "hello" and be welcomed. So, I think.

Oh, yeah! The purpose of this blog entry. Get to it Palmer! Bali-bali, Het-a (that's Korean for hurry up, yo-yo!) There's a coworker here who reminds me of a marginal relative there. I haven't talked to my relative in a long time. My coworker in Korea has very similar personality quirks that bring out in me certain feelings I don't like about my relative/s. I guess I am a little slow but 6,900 miles away I realize that!

That's the latest and greatest from Suwon, the Galbi capital of Korea. Have a great day.

Corn and sweet pickles on my Italian food

2008-06-30T21:42:00.015-07:00

Hello. It's me....again. This time I'm angry! Koreans have defiled my beloved Italian food with corn and pickles. Ugh! What's wrong with these people? I'm from New York, pizza is in my soul. This makes me an expert. I'm half Italian too. Like great race horses bred for their genetics, I am bred to know good Italian food! And I am a pizza purist. No pineapple on my pizza! Who thought of that anyway? In the 1980s when Apple computer was fighting the evil empires of IBM and MicroSoft, Apple engineers would be hired for their computer prowess and their like of pineapple pizza. Believe it! I could never have worked there! If I was on a desert island, pizza would be my food choice--made by a big fat, Italian guy named Manucuso, with big sweat stains on his wife beater tee-shirt sayin in broken English: "Wats a madder you!?" Anyway, I am ranting, again.

Here in Korea, they ruin all Italian food by adding bits of yellow corn to the red sauce. I'm totally disgusted; I think I can dismiss a few thousands years of their culture in one full sweep by their decimation of my pizza! I want to start a campaign against corn on pizza. What is it with Americans like me anyway? Always starting some "campaign?"

I've been to several pizza places here in Suwon that serve "Italian" food. They add yellow corn to the sauce or sprinkle it on pizza. It's not a topping, by the way. I don't order it like that. It comes with all Italian sauces built in like those small, triangular smoker's windows found in 1970 Lincoln Continentals IV. Remember those, baby? When you were riding around with your pimp on the east side! :) Palmer is gettin crazy!

Adding yellow corn to Italian food is like the green pepper in your high school cafeteria soup; a hodgepodge of left over vegetables that were dumped into the soup of the day, every day. They don't know what to do with all deez extra veggies, so they figure to make a "soup" and add some broth. That's disgusting too. Might as well eat compost!

Many countries try to imitate european cuisine. The flavors, the spices, the preparation. Korea, like other countries, fuse their food with flavors of Italy and such. They obviously missed out on the Italian lesson of pizza making and food combining. So did my high school cafeteria but they had more sense not to modify pizza in such a way.

Another ugly element is serving Italian food with sweet dill pickles on the side. For example, I went to an "Italian" restuarant and ordered pasta with red sauce. How can you go wrong with dhat? You know what I mean? An Italian restuarant that fails in their red sauce and basic pasta (Pasta Marinara), should not be allowed to continue. Before the entre the waitress brought out sweet pickles, cut, as a side. What is going on??!! I smiled and said thank you. The food came, it sucked. What can I do? This is not America; you can't send the food back. Koreans will loose "face." Believe me, I tried that in 1998 when I found steel wool in my food. My Korean friend argued with the owner to get a new dish made without the steel wool! Ouch!

Suwon, Korea has a failing grade in Italian food. They serve it with yellow corn and sweet pickles. Wait until you get home and eat like a Manucuso!

Cute Kids Cute Talk?

2008-06-29T05:21:00.011-07:00

Hello from the hot and humid side of Suwon, South Korea. It's Palmer in Korea again reporting this time on kid's language acquisition abilities. In other words, the things they say in the classroom.

There's a colleague who got upset about the new and fun way some students are talking in my school. It seems that one of her/his students likes to go around in the classroom and say in English, "Very Sexy!" (the female student pronounces it as: "Very Shasexy") I'm not sure if she learned it from another student or if it's the same student that my other colleague, Bernard, teaches. Some teachers have the same student in different classes during the day. In any case, my colleague was very upset last week and shook a disapproving finger in Bernard's direction. From what I've heard he/she is one of the teacher's currently looking for work elsewhere.

There's another few students who now go around and use the satan like head-banger hand sign you would see in the audience of an AC/DC show. The colleague noticed that too. He/she says this upsets the routine of students. When students need to settle down, the teachers sometimes say, "Show me two fingers...who's quiet?" The students then hold up their right hands and make a "peace" sign and hopefully settle down. Now, it's all shot to hell with satan's handy-work!

If you are cringing blog reader, this will really grab ya! Yesterday I talked to Bernard, he's a bi-lingual Canadian Korean. He told me that that last week one of his young students grabbed her breast and said to him, in Korean, "suck suck" or "milk me." WTF?! She's younger than twelve!

I have a eight year old student who ran up to me at the beginning of class a few weeks ago and said that she wants to be "my lover!" I told her no, I am your teacher. Where do kids model or see this behavior? It's crazy teaching English at a hogwan.

Update on my probation, part III

2008-06-25T21:37:00.007-07:00

Hello blog readers of the world! Here is the third and not last installment of "Matt on probation." I met with the Director and the owner of said hogwan of Suwon, South Korea. What bullshit did flow from the former's mouth!

First, here is the letter I wrote to them in response to two letters the Director wrote me on May 30 and June 17.

J=Director D=Owner L=Other big wig person

Letter Number One

Sent on Fri, 6/20/08, Matt Palmer <> wrote:
From: Matt Palmer
To: Director and Owner
Friday, June 20, 2008
To Whom It May Concern:

I am writing this letter to clarify my thoughts and position on what has transpired between me, staff and management at MBESL (MBS) before and during my probation. Please read it as factual. It is not meant to place any party on the defense; it is merely explaining events, as they unfolded, and my feelings—as I hope to convey—in an assessment of myself and MBS over the past few months. It is also written to show some inconsistencies of admonishment and offer solutions, when possible.

In our meeting on Friday, May 30 the subject was my admonishment for my classroom act on May 29. During the meeting with J, D and L, I think D was correct in his assessment about my teaching preferences; I do prefer teaching older students, middle school and above. Although my IEP3 of ten/eleven year olds is generally good and their high English learning ability great, they are sometimes incredibly “bratty” and act spoiled. My KP class is fun but I think I prefer teaching older kids and less “baby sitting” as I do in my lunch class. Per that meeting D said he would look for a suitable school that needs my skills. I agreed to this solution. This would mean, as your June 17 written letter stated, MBS releasing me from work.

The “rough housing” event on occurred in a combined class in my EAS 3 class on the afternoon of Thursday, May 29. In the meeting w/ L et al on May 30, and in your subsequent admonishment letter dated June 17, there was no mentioned of the other teacher involved on the May 29 event nor was he admonished for his part in “rough housing.” My class was combined with his students, in his classroom and I got admonished for “rough housing.” Is this fair? The staff meeting on Tuesday, May 27 said no rough games. If a no “rough housing” rule is MBS policy, why did not the other teacher get a warning or placed on probation for his involvement? Why wasn’t he talked to about it? In fact, I was told that he got an apology from J. This makes it seem that the “rough housing” policy applies only to me. This is inconsistent and sends a confusing message to staff for meting out punishment at will. If the rule just applied to me, that’s fine, but the meeting was for all staff so that means all are included. I was obviously singled out. This creates a hostile work environment (for me) when someone is singled out for behaviors while others are not.

That event of May 29 makes me think that J may be personally upset with me, outside of work with non-related work issues which may have caused him to single me out for the May 29th event. I personally don’t know if this is true but if he does feel some ill will towards me, then I think he should just have told me. Maybe that would explain why I was singled out. I know other teachers have had games that involve physical activities and some “rough housing” but they don’t get caught.

The follow up to the May 30th meeting slated for June 13th, never happened nor was there any contact from management about re-scheduling it with me. I know that J was here that day because I spoke to him in front of the post office after he had come back from a doctor’s visit. If management means what they say, shouldn’t they not miss a meeting? And, if there were problems meeting with me that day, there should have been an email to re-schedule. It wasn’t clear if I was still on probation which ended on June 13 or not. I think it's management's responsibility to clarify and follow through on details such as this.

In J’s second letter of admonishment dated Tuesday, June 17, he did not like that I had negative comments about students. In an email I sent to J dated June 5, I was told him that my lunch class is too “unsettled to play any sort of game play” and that “they don't listen; they run around and when they do play games, they argue and yell.” And “they listen really well to Helen but she needs to raise her voice constantly over the din of noise.” Then on June 10, I wrote to J in an email that during my lunch class “I had to call in (lady's name) to calm [them] down the lunch hour class. Jack and Harry were particularly loud today and were not good students today according to tara .”

I have a right to complain to the Director, that I am frustrated with my lunch class behavior especially when students create a non-learning environment for all. If I have negative comments about them then he should know. Around Tuesday, June 16 I was telling a teacher in the staff area downstairs that our student, named Harry, threw his chopsticks and spoon case at me for no apparent reason during lunch. Why should I accept such behavior? Why should a student like Harry not get a call to his mom? The teacher takes it too personally—it’s not her fault. Of course I would have negative comments about students who treat me this way!

Also, I think that the Teacher Partner is overwhelmed with our lunch class. She constantly needs to yell at them to have them settled down and though she does a good job at controlling the kids, they are very wild and under the influence of several “bad” students including Harry and Jack.

In the letter of June 17, I was not making a statement about another teacher’s performance in the classroom; that was taken out of context. I was telling the other teacher that her student was acting up. It’s not the teacher’s fault for Harry’s behavior. She got upset about it because on other occasions, I’ve told her about other student’s behavior, like Jack and Joshua’s. I’ve personally told her about their behavior and even a few parents wrote about Jack’s behavior affecting their son/daughter’s learning in those red MBS books the kids take home.

I still don’t know what J is referring to in his letter of June 17 about “rudely stating that” I had work to do. It was vague... I know that I was venting that I had work to do for a class to do but I don’t think I was being rude. And what did I say? Who did I say it to? What was the context?

I don’t understand what J wrote about “Do no speak to J about what I do in the classroom.” What does this mean? Please clarify.

I appreciate D looking for a school for me but I don’t think it is such a good idea now. In the June 17 letter is says that I “will be leaving” MBS. This means that I am being released or terminated. Please clarify. Thank you.

Best regards,

Matthew

Tutoring in Korea

2008-06-25T21:35:00.002-07:00

On Monday I was sitting outside Coffee Bean at HomePlus in Yongtong, a large urban area of Suwon, South Korea. Good shopping, restaurants line the streets. Cafes and their ilk line the darkened alleys on the slippery side of Suwon. Sipping my $4.00 iced coffee and reading “Groove” magazine under a large outdoor umbrella, a strange Korean man, in his late thirties, started talking to me.

“Hello,” he asked. He disturbed my thinking; I came to like leaving a dream.

“Yes?” I said. He was carrying a plastic shopping bag.

“I would like to speak English with you,” he said.

“Hi, sure… sit down,” I replied. He was dressed in dark grey slacks, white shirt, tucked in with a new or unused black belt. It was hot but he was not sweating, the way Koreans don’t sweat or even smell after sweating. They smell like garlic and kim chi, sometimes. It’s not strange to have Koreans want to practice their Korean with westerners. I took this as part of my adventure in Korea.

We talked small talk. It was a bit uncomfortable for him. He would shift in his sit trying to find a position. I positioned myself at a 45 degree angle to him and maintained eye contact and asked questions about what he wanted to accomplish in his English study with me not knowing if I wanted to teach him at all.

“My English is okay but I want to improve,” he said. His English accent was good, his pronunciation good--in the way that Koreans enunciate. I could tell he was educated but not sure of his background. “I want to work on idioms. And improve my English.”

“What do you do?” I asked always a good introduction to someone.

He mumbled.

“Are you in business?” I asked again. “Education?”

He replied: “I am interested in making a place to help old people…”

I asked what he meant. I quickly figured out that he was not working. “A Korean man not working?” I thought to myself. Something is odd about that. In fact, Korea still has a dichotomy of men working, and women raising the family. A one-tier system which is great for raising kids—no strangers from Mexico or Latin America as illegal nannies, entrusted with the delicate care of your son or daughter-- but Korean men work insufferable hours and are expected to socialize and drink, a lot. The upsides are better, I think, for now.

“I want to make a campus,” he continued. “It will help them learn…”

“Like a school?” I asked. “You want to create a school?”

“I want to make a campus. Teaching the bible.”

“Ah, I see. You want to start a church?.”

“This will be a campus to educate people on living…good.”

“Well, this guys a freakin fruit cake,” I thought. “He’s crazy. For Jesus’ sake, why me? Do I have a sign that says: "Will tutor Krazy Koreans?" Go bother someone else.” Well, I had nothing to do at that moment, and wanting to be the friendly foreigner, I was interested in learning more about his church idea and give him a chance to redeem himself.

“Let’s see how you write,” I asked. “I think it will give me a better idea of your language skills. Please write a short paragraph on what you did this past weekend.”

He wrote for five minutes. Jesus!

His paragraph was over half a page. He described going to some Korean mountain where he could “breathe” and had a “vision” of starting his bible campus. “This guy is really waco!” I said to myself. I’m sure there are hundreds of people in Suwon who want to be tutored in business English or to improve their skills but this guy wants me to help improve his English for recruiting neophytes for his cult!

I corrected his grammar and sentence structure. He thought his written English was good but he was wrong. I was nice and showed him how to make his English more strong by rephrasing and making his sentences more succinct; unlike this piece I am writing.

We talked more. I told him I may have time to tutor him. He gave me his number; I gave him my co-workers cell phone number, hope he doesn’t mind helping starting a cult! Hehe.

2Pac or two forks

2008-06-25T20:17:00.003-07:00

One of my students in lunch class today, call her Angel, was very excited to show me her two new forks. These are kids forks. Small, plastic handles metal prongs with some “cool” cartoon character on it—is there research to support that kids really like cartoon characters on forks or is it the brain washing of the parents think that the kids would go crazy over forks? Some of you know that I help assist in the constant clean up of rice on the floor and the daily yell fest at Jack and Harry to either sit down and or to stop running around. Anyway, she says to me, “Teacher, 2Pac!”

“What?” I said. I couldn’t believe what I heard. How does she know about 2Pac? She’s a cute, five year old Korean girl in the middle of Korea; where mosquitoes fly, dust never settles and the constant sound of construction and traffic makes you angry and crazy. Does she have a 2Pac character on her backpack or on her fork? Do her parents groove to the angry and disenchanted sounds and lyrics of American Gangsta rap when they’re not busy working 12 hour days and payin (payin!!) $800 a month for their Angel to attend an elitist Canadian English school?

I asked her again. She says, “two pac.” Oh, I think: Two forks. She’s saying two forks. Hmm. They are nice forks, Angel. I correct her by saying. “Two forks,” and she smiles and goes back to eating slowly, the way kids eat. Can’t bottle or sell that cuteness!

Head Cold

2008-06-19T23:22:00.002-07:00

Everyone gets sick. Flu, coughs, colds. Then there is the impervious head cold. The sinus congestion, the stuffy nose, the boxes of tissues or the cheap roll of toilet paper, always handy and ready for blowing your nose or other clean up uses! The head cold never abates in its making of mucus. That soft, sticky green and white material that the body seems to over produce like some OPEC production scheme during the long hot, summers!

This past week I’ve had a head cold. It various from congestion in the morning to free and easy breathing in the afternoon. A few nights of interrupted sleep, lots of water and fluids, going to the gym and some late nights eating McDonald's ice cream with a friend has helped it except in the area of mucus. Yes, blog reader, mucus. It’s disgusting and my Western body is over producing it like a mad OPEC Sheik hell bent on flooding American with its sticky and green viscous fluid in hopes of causing a shortage of tissue paper in the vicinity of Korea! Buy your Kleenex stock now! This is not a spam fax warning!

I blow my nose, then I blow it again and again, my ears feel like I am coming up from a long dive in the ocean. The air and sound become clearer until…I blow my nose again! Wow! I’ve never had some much mucus! I must say it’s pretty disgusting, really. It’s a normal color, in case you’re worried or not, but nonetheless, the abundance is so great that I need to share with you my mucus memories from my nose membranes!

In Korea people are helpful. It’s part of their culture and when you go to a supermarket or shop, they follow you, they help you, they talk to you. It’s great only…when Palmer needs to release the mucus--he doesn’t want to be bothered. I find a quiet corner and blow my nose. But there’s so many people here! They followed me to the corner! Oh, blog reader. I just want to blow in piece. It’s not normal blowing, after all I have a head cold, but a long, drawn out drone of gooey snot that evacuates my nose in spurts of white, messy goo! Yuck. They say that sneezing mimics the human organism well; blowing my nose is a close second. I feel a gigantic release; endorphins are on a postal rage, my wet napkin filled and easily useable for a giant spit ball; my lungs heave and relax followed by a feeling of peace. But in Korea I can’t have peace or a proper release because they want to be where the action is! I just want solitude during my nose moment, really. They want to help; tissues are offered even a cup of tea. My students have impeccable timing and finish their difficult assignment just when I am in the middle of my first nose evacuation. I turn my back; they turn with me. “Teacher, I’m finished” they yell. “great, great,” I say, “please sit down, I am trying to blow my nose!.” They make little comments, as they should, they run away, as they should. Snot is a messy clean up production!

Today’s snot report is fair to midland. It’s good. I don’t feel sick. Mucus is normal but a lot. After a bike ride to my job, it is really a fun event when I rush to the supply room with a half a roll of toilet paper and let it go! You could me say the occasional, “that’s disgusting” or “wow, that’s amazing” coming from deep in the supply room. The part time grandmother, our lunch lady who fixes the kids lunches, rushes in for my status and well being. “I’m okay,” I tell her. She walks away disappointed or something. I hurt her feelings, possibly.

Update on my probation

2008-06-15T09:16:00.005-07:00

Hello again from Korea. The Land of the Morning Calm to the uninitiated, intentionally or not. My follow up meeting to my two week probation period ended on Friday last but the Director forgot to meet! Nice management skills, eh blog reader? What does that mean? Who cares. I guess I am in "the clear." No fire in the hole. No admonishment. Nothing.

My other colleagues are a disgruntled bunch, kind reader. One quit, another is looking for another job and will resign upon her contract signing elsewhere; another just hates it but will stay because she needs the cash, one teacher will fulfill her contract duties in late August but hates her students. She only likes seven out of fifty. Not bad odds if you were in Vegas but as a ESL teacher, not so goot (intentionally misspelled to imitate some of the kids pronunciation which is often cute)! They are cute, sometimes.

Bernard and I discussed creating a "hate index" that measures teacher's range of hate from one to ten, ten being most hating of thus job and one being loving it. Most fall in the 8 to 10 range of "hating" it. As you can surmise, morale sucks at the school. It's difficult teaching kids and these kids are often spoiled brats including some of mine. We run a pure, capitalist revenue model at my institute. So, when kids act up and are repeatingly warned not to throw their utensils at Mr. Matthew (that's my teaching moniker, dig?) they are not suitably punished by imprisonment, etc. Anyway, I haven't been blessed with cleaning up poop and I won't because I won't do that shit, no pun from the bun--intended. Holy Hay-Zeus, I am a rhyming poet tonight! My hate level is about five and can shoot up to ten like it did last Friday.

On Friday last I was tired and looking forward to teaching my favorite class, an advance bunch of kids all around 11 years. As a reward for their hard work during the week, I decided to play Uno with them. Those little buggers played one game and then decided to "rig" the deck so that everyone won the game except me. Much better odds than Vegas but not so cute because they didn't want to play Uno afterwards. That leaves about 45 minutes to keep them occupied. I was tired and wanted to play games but I won't reward them on Friday's anymore. They were ultra bratty on Friday.

One of my goals coming to Korea was to save money. I am saving money here and I still plan to go to graduate school next year and now that Yanne is in my life, I am not grumpy in spite of my fluctuating level of hate.

A weekend in Taipei

2008-06-10T05:26:00.003-07:00

Hello again mighty blog readers of new and old. I spent the best weekend of my life in May of 2008 in Taipei connecting again with Yanne. Yanne and her mom were there vacationing Asia, a world tour of sorts meeting with relatives and enjoying themselves from China to Hong Kong to Macau and Taiwan. The flight from Seoul, Korea to Taipei, Taiwan is about two hours. It was a perfect weekend "get away" for the most important moment in my life, to meet with Yanne again. Dramatic!

Here are some pictures!

Probation, parole are they the same in Korea?

2008-06-10T04:57:00.007-07:00

Some of you may know that the school placed me on probation or is it parole? Parole is after you serve in prison which may be an apt analogy working for this language institute the past month or two. Its management is not very good and if you go by the other teacher's low morale, they are waiting for their sentences to end and released for home.

I am on probation. I will meet with the owner, directors and a Seoul administrator this Friday or possibly earlier to decide my fate at the unnamed aforementioned language institute of Suwon, South Korea.

Last week the director didn't like my kids playing games because the danger that they could hurt themselves. When two classes of 15 students combine, they get loud and a little rowdy. Andrew, a student of mine and a girl from Bernard's class (he's another teacher) were play wrestling, kicking each other during a combined class play time. Bernard and I sometimes combine classes so the kids can play games. Andrew and his crush were lightly kicking each other and having fun when the director walked in and threw a fit. White men never look good angry; they look like tomatoes. So, I am on probation. Or is it parole? Bernard did not get reprimanded. We were playing games in his classroom with his students and his girl student was one of the culprits that got me busted for "rough housing." Later that week the director apologized to Bernard for raising his voice and disrupting his class. That was nice of him!

The owner is looking to place me in another school who needs a teacher. I may transfer to another school or be asked to leave or knowing the history of this institute, get a slap on the wrist. If I am not fired, I may just give my resignation notice. It takes a lot of resources to secure a new teacher especially in Suwon, not the most popular city of Korea. I think management will not secure me another job which will mean that I stay, give notice to leave or they fire me, sending me back to Los Angeles, a little earlier than planned.

On a related item, I went to Taipei last weekend to meet with Yanne and her mom. Yanne and I are now planning our lives together and we may live in Korea or Taiwan or even China. If I am still in Korea, she may come and live with me or both of us jet to Taipei or Beijing to teach, learn the language and be together for a wonderful adventure. She is thinking of all options as she is in a career transition. I can't tell you how excited I am that she is in my life!! It's unbelievable!! She is the most beautiful woman in the world!!

I've posted my resume for jobs in Taipei. Stay tuned.

Korean Students are So Nice!

2008-05-24T05:52:00.010-07:00

Yes, blog reader, Korean students can be so nice and complimentary to their hard working "Sung-sang-nims" or teachers. I traveled 6,500 miles from Los Angeles to Suwon to be called: Poop, monkey, dirty, dungy and Red-eyes. My student over whelming think my hair line is that of a monkey's and that I smell like poop, am dirty and supreme dung (crap) maker. Maybe my lesson plans are crap and for sure my eyes are blood shot from the constant assault of pollution and dust from riding my 80 dollar bicycle to work. I can see how my receding hair line can resemble a monkey...but, reader, I really revel in the joy of teaching and gloat like the capitalist I am! Think of it: I am indoctrinating them into Western ways and guiding them with the invisible hand of capitalism so when they are college graduates and start their jobs, they will speak English and buy Western products! I am doing my share of "keeping America strong." I feel so patriotic. I especially like how these students do not withhold their thoughts or feelings towards me or each other for that matter.

Last week I had a student throw her binder at me in frustration. Half her homework was completed; she did not understand the other half of the assignment. So, she decided throwing her binder would be the best solution. Off to the Director's office I sent her, in tears. She cried and cried. She was sorry. Really. I think.

The week before a student charged at me like I was a matador in a bullpen in Spain; brave blog reader I dislodged like a matador master the over weight bundle of fat into Never land--and when he returns from MJ's place he will only be squealing like a pig.

Most recently a student decided it would be funny to just fart at me. I am not paid enough money to put up with this monkey crap. He laughed and I punished him by wrapping his head in cloth and water boarding him in the kid's sink while his classmates laughed and made fun of him. Take that "Bong-goo" (fart) boy! Nice "so called" friends, too.

Yesterday, Dio, who's back from some sort of sabbatical from my class, decides to just let a lot of his drool foam up and foment all over his right side of his mouth and face. It was disgusting and he wanted a reaction from me. I made him wash his face in the classroom sink. Remember Dio? He was the really lazy, and somewhat slow moving boy who's mom met with me a month ago. The school was upset about the loss of him and a few other of my students. The Director, Assistant Director, the Owner and the parents met with me to discuss the situation. Well, she later pulled him from my class; now he's back. He even tells me now that he "loves" me. He has improved his writing skills during that interim, perhaps thanks is due to his better and more competent teacher named Tracy. Or it could be that his mom got all over his lazy ass and told him to stop being so lazy? I dunno.

Then there's Peter, a student who I watch during my lunch hour in another teacher's class. Part of my job is to help administer lunch every day for one hour. Today, Peter, holding his crotch and doing the universal "pee pee" dance, needed to pee badly. I told him to run fast like "bali bali" (very fast) and so he drops his pants right there in class. His naked ass revealed; the students are so nonchalant, they continue eating, yelling. Then Peter realizes that the bathroom is 25 feet away and so pulls up his trousers and dashes off to the restroom. Yes, I am in combat some of the time.

I guess I am just venting. It definitely beats working for Bill and having to call Armani of Beverly Hills to arrange for a suit fitting for him with their visiting Italian tailor or the time when his wife missed her limo to JFK in New York City and me, being so inept, left the limo company his wife's cell phone number as a back up. Of course the company called her cell phone to say they were waiting for her. She never got the message because she doesn't use or bring her cell phone!! She took a cab to JFK--how pedestrian. I was supposed to ask Bill first about his wife's cell number...Or how about the time when Bill would constantly re-arrange his calendar to fit in more important business meetings than meet with students; after all, he is a professor and business and Board meetings are more important than the lowly needs of students. Or the times when...don't get me started, blog reader! I definitely don't wipe anyone's ass anymore! I don't wipe asses here either except mine, of course!

Ajuma Perma Haircuts

2008-05-19T07:10:00.019-07:00

In Korea married, older women in their late 40's and above are called "Ajumas" (A-Jew-ma-s"). They are women who have born children, married for years and often have grand children. They are everywhere, these ajumas. They are short, tall, wrinkled. One distinct feature they have, and one way of recognizing the "old" school ajuma from the "new" school, is the ugly perma (permed) haircut.

Like in the West, ajumas get their permed haircuts at saloons. There are six saloons in my area of "Go-pan" (my affectionate term for this changing "ghetto" of abandoned trash and constant sound of buildings constructed). You know that scene in Alien when they discover an alien sitting behind some machine, dead from lack of food? The ajumas here are seated in barber chairs, they are attached to these big, alien-like machines with black wires and thin tubes, the apparatus spins clockwise blasting heat over and under the plastic curlers.

Koreans all hair straight hair. I guess when you have been married a while, born a few kids, hips flaring outward and breasts sagging downward and tired looking at your husband's Buddha-like gut, ajumas run to the nearest saloon and get funky. The permas are not attractive. They look fake...Ugly...Big, thick curls don't look natural on these ajumas, soul brothers and sisters! (Edgar reference).

One way to differentiate between the "old" school ajumas and the "new" school ones is the tightness of the permed curl and the clothing they wear. The "old" school ajumas are usually short, over weight and wear ugly non-sensical blouses with off-patterns and those off-gray plastic-looking nurse shoes you see for sale a block away from any hospital. You know, the kind with the thick padding and concave soles? They don't wear make-up and hobble about, limping from years on the farm and raising kids who have given birth to their ajuma grand kids--those brats I now teach! Ugh! (Last week was difficult teaching them kids, I tell you!). Their curls are big, thick and ugly. They look like vertical bed springs that have broke free from their matresses, shooting skyward with that "boing," "boing" sound you hear in cartoons!

The "new" school ajumas, are thin, stylish and wear designer jeans, nice clothes and heels. They are very coiffed and their children are becoming the same with dyed hair and expensive western clothing which I hate seeing here and in the States. Their permed curls are wavy and natural looking.

Ajumas are a fact of life. If I was a detective searching for a lost Alzheimer ajuma, I could find the missing one in a day. They stand out like orange suspenders on a tuxedo or pink hair at a funeral. Are they rebelling or is this a cultural movement? What is next for these ajumas? I think there should be a sociological study on ajumas. If I can get some funding, I could research this phenomena and find out the "truth" about the perma!

When students have stripper names

2008-05-17T22:49:00.009-07:00

Do Korean parents purposely give their daughters American stripper names? Or is the World of Disney so persuasive and perverse that 6,500 miles from their Burbank Headquarters, children choose their "innocent" English pseudonyms as some sort of Walt Disney fantasy and conspiracy?

I have a student named Princess. She's 11 years old. Princess is a stripper name. I should yell at her mom and dad. To see a real Princess, go to 4Play in West Los Angeles. Princess will make cooing sounds for you as she swivels around pole number three with her four inch heels and white tiara.

Another student here is named Barbie. Like a Barbie doll... Barbie is a 40 year old, tanned and pruned ex-stripper with "D" cups working in the heart of Burbank, probably still the receptionist for that busy law firm of Dewey, Cheatim and Howe. She still wears low cut blouses showing off ample cleavage. My student Barbie is a cute 6 year old who dons yellow and pink nail polish. Isn't she too young for that stuff? When children take images from the Disney machine and make them their own, that is not magical stuff.

Then there's Angel. I bet you my nice salary of 2.2 million Won that there's an Angel in every strip club from Los Angeles to the eastern tip of Montauk Point, New York. And who doesn't like angels, right? The anti-Christ probably. Angel is classic stripper name. It used to be cute and fun, now it's a cliche. Old and wrinkled like Barbie's time sun tanning at Venice Beach. Jesus!

You know when dog owners resemble their dogs after a while? Well, Cherry a 6 year old student in my school looks like a cherry tomato! It's also a more updated version of the classic stripper name of Angel. The Cherry here is a tiny thing with a round, cute Cherry tomato face and matching "bowl" bang haircut. She's sweet. The Cherries of strip joints are the ones who wear the "G" string thong with three cherry hearts on them. They will rob you of your money, like some Rod Stewart song.

Korean parents, if you ever read one post of this forsaken blog, don't name your kids any of these names. They are reserved for strippers. Do you want your daughter to be lap dancing on some businessman or college jar head's lap? No! A name can be self-fulling prophesy. Do you know of any Melvins, Marvins or Bettys now? Drop the stripper names and use something reasonable. Walt Disney would be disappointed that his magic has failed but who cares about the world they create? Would you want your daughter to become a Disney employee who must answer the phone with a smile saying: "Welcome to the magical world of Disney, how can I help you?"

American Gangsta Rap invades Canada

2008-05-05T06:41:00.009-07:00

My colleagues at my language institute in Suwon, South Korea are mostly Canadian. I forget what area they hail from. It doesn't matter in this global economy which is border less and invaded by American Gangsta rap.

The other night a bunch of us went to the "Nori Bon," a Korean style Karaoke singing bar where you pay about $13 for two hours to sing and drink with your friends. They had a huge selection of songs, both in Korean and in English. You can also eat food and drink at these places. They are everywhere in Korea. Everyone has their own room; there are couches and air conditioning. It's fun and comfortable. Many have blinking lights, tambourines and all have a wide screen projector and a nice sound system. Just lay off the reverb, eh buddy!

A lot of the songs selected by the Canadians were American rap music like "Gangster's Paradise" by Coolio, Fifty Cent's "In da Club" and an obnoxious Snoop Dogg tune. I am pissed off by this. A bunch of white and mixed, Canadians rapping and singing American Black Gangsta rap in Suwon, Korea. What do they know about urban black people's struggle? Probably nothing. I know I don't that much and I live in L.A.

With the risk of sounding like an idiot and an uptight old fart, this style of music contains and portrays violence, drugs as an end into dealing consumerism and vitriolic misogyny. It has no place in Canadian culture and vocabulary with my 20 something co-workers. American Imperialism has landed in Canada and in South Korea. It is sad and pisses me off.

Many people relate to this music and that's fine. It's unfortunate that this music is exciting, fast, fun, angry and has garnered so much popularity. Rap music portrays people who are fighting for their rights on some level which I can't relate to. This style of music sings of respect, money, dignity, freedom, sex and other things that protest songs did but in an urban, ghetto setting with guns, lots of guns (Matrix reference).

I guess I am mad about the medium in which it's delivered. I am for music that expresses those qualities but there is something "wrong" about hearing this music from the hood of L.A. in the provincial city of Suwon, South Korea. It is fucked up, really. This music is not cool. What would you rather do? Chill to Pink Floyd or Snoop Dogg? There's a terrible "hardness" to this music that is contagious and cancerous. Gangsta rap has infected cultures across the globe and people like it!! I think that's fucked up too.

Maybe if I go back in time to Chicago, Illionois circa 1950 and go to a blues bar to hear Muddy Waters play with Little Walter on harmonica, I could somehow juxtapose that and related to gangsta rap of 2008? People would look at me in my 1950's clothes, a white guy, that buttermilk spot in a sea of black faces and they would think and ask: "What the fuck is this guy doing here?" How could I relate to the blues of Muddy Waters, a cotton picker from the south? I can't but I can get the blues. I can feel sad and joyous like many of Muddy Water's songs. In any case, blues music contrasts to the culture we live in now. A society of easy gun access, shootings in schools, violence, dealin drugs, fighting turf wars with other gangs, a gangsta's life style. I don't get it. If I go back in time fifty years from now (2058) and visit the clubs where Snoop and his ilk played, me with my white face in a sea of mixed people, they wouldn't say: "What the fuck is he here?" But how could I relate even then?

Maybe I'll re-write this piece or delete it.

Palmer in Korea signing off and out.

When parents hit their children...

2008-04-29T03:56:00.006-07:00

The other day my best friend, O, emailed me an article about Koreans attending Ivy league schools and the enormous financial, emotional and physical tribulations students and families go through to get into the Ivies like Harvard and Yale, etc. I've pasted the article link at the end of this post.

Last night, during my favorite class, my favorite student, Amy, who is like a daughter to me, if I had a daughter, had bruises on her left upper arm. The weather has been warm recently and everyone is wearing short sleeves. She was rubbing her left arm a little and I could tell that something was bothering her. I noticed the four medium size, dark bruises. I asked Amy.

She told me her friend hit her on the arm and then later her mother hit her too. I asked why did her friend do that? The friend was angry but I think it was just an excuse to cover the real damage her mom did.

"My mom was angry at me..." she said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Over English," she said. I thought: she's an excellent student. Her grammar is really great. She can talk to me in English...It took me a few minutes to process this and then I got really upset. I thought of making my homework easier or was it too difficult and it made her mom frustrated? Or was Amy not making strides that her mom thinks is adequate? I walked to the Director's office, trying to remain calm and focused and not to react, and asked him to talk to Amy to clarify how she got the bruises. Maybe I misunderstood.

He came in and asked Amy to come to his office. When she came back, she had tears in her eyes. The class was in the middle of their lesson so I sat down with Amy to give her instruction and time to settle down. She was upset and took a while to focus. She worked slowly on the activity sheet. I talked to her about the activity then asked her what the director said. She had tears in her eyes. I got her a tissue but she refused it. I told her how upset I was to see her arm like that and I wanted the director to talk to her about it too. I was trying not to cry.

I asked Amy if she felt safe at home and if the director or someone else were to call her mom, would Amy feel okay about it. She said it would not be a problem. I told Amy that where I come from, that kind of behavior is very serious and not tolerated. I told her that seeing her arm like that was upsetting to me and that I needed to tell my boss so he was aware.

The director told the owner about the bruises. The owner said it's the responsibility of Amy's public school teacher and administrators to notify the proper authorities of this abuse and if I see more bruises, then the owner can call and report the abuse. I feel helpless in this situation which mirrors my general helplessness: language and culture are barriers. How much pressure parents' feel when they are old and need the security to live a healthily life vis a vis their children's financial support? They are their social security; their life support and pressuring and pushing their kids to succeed will make them "successful" and also give the parents a safety net when they're old.

I am working through this... I was up for hours last night. My favorite student Amy, sweet and smart with two younger siblings working hard at English and me, indirectly, contributing to her success or failure as an English learner.

Here's the article:

April 27, 2008 Elite Korean Schools, Forging Ivy League Skills By Sam Dillon

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/04/27/world/asia/27seoul.html?ex=1366948800&en=b9c8a3db94765d6c&ei=5088&partner=rssnyt&emc=rss

My gum rant and the free market economy

2008-04-27T04:16:00.003-07:00

As some of you know I am a big big fan of chewing gum; all my life. When I came here I brought with me six packs of Orbit and a brand called "5." I'll chew a pack a week, usually. Orbit and "5" are my favorites and possible the best gum ever made. Finally, Wrigley's made advances in their gum products which leave their classic "Spearmint" gum (a terrible and horrible gum) in the crypt. Both Orbit and "5" have outstanding flavor which lasts a long time, they are sugarless and don't loose their gummy consistency after twenty or sixty minutes and perhaps most importantly, I don't have the urge to swallow the gum which, according to folklore, is not digested in our bodies...

Anyways, I've tried seven kinds of gum here by Lotte. There's Flavano. A mint flavored gum which after twenty minutes, you want to swallow and usually do. I've had that same experience with every gum made here. Another gum they make is a bubble gum. It's weak. Today I tried their ginseng gum which surprisingly was good and the flavor last a long time even after maneuvering in the cold and damp of Suwon. But who wants to chew on ginseng for sixty minutes?

Lotte's bubbles blow. No strength or sizable bubbles. Not fun. There are two or three major companies that make gum here and they all suck. The most popular brand and perhaps the most distributed are made by Lotte. Most if not all gum is made by this Korean Chaebol. All loose flavor quickly, few selection of sugarless and the consistency changes. Nobody knows, perhaps, that these gums suck. They have no comparison to excellent gum products. It could be cultural in the sense that they don't have the habit of chewing gum for more than twenty minutes...Which brings me to the topic of today's blog.

Would access to "superior" gum vis a vis the free market, improve Korea's gum? If Korea allowed Wrigley's Orbit and "5" entry into the gum market here, what would happen to Korean gum companies like Lotte? When the "borders" open to imports like gum, companies like Lotte that have been living large on their "successes" will have to trim the fat to become lean and mean again. This, of course, provided that people here would find Orbit "superior" to taste. Maybe Koreans are not used to chewing more than twenty minutes or more? Maybe Westerners chew too much gum which may cause more wear on our teeth?

Orbit and "5" are sugarless gums and have excellent flavors and varieties. I think that they would slam any Korean gum product either regular (w/ sugar) or not. People would abandon their favorite Korean Lotte gum for Orbit or "5." Lotte, the Korean company, maker of cookies and gum, could not compete. The free market would force Korean companies to re-evaluate and make a better gum product or leave the market. All I am saying I am in favor of more flavor.

If the market did open, I would buy a case of Orbit gum in case these American companies are shunned by the Korean public or taken down by some Nationalist bureaucrat. Koreans like Americans are full of pride about their companies but much more nationalistic and protectionist. A lot of products are available here, like Honda Accords, but they are heavily taxed via import duties. It's rare to see a Benz or a Beemer. If you own one of these cars in Korea, that means you have money, a lot of money. Most people who own a car purchase a Korean one. Korea protects its products by heavy import taxes. I don't have stats yet, my friends.

Of course the free market has mixed result with economies. But damn it I want my gum! F#@%IT: I can order it on the Internet.

Book Store Koan: What is the sound of one hand whacking?

2008-04-26T06:27:00.004-07:00

It all started on the cab ride home Saturday afternoon after work. The director of the school, myself and another teacher, a Canadian woman, shared a ride back to "Gob-pan-jong dong" Basically, Suwon's "ghetto" before hundreds of new apartments were built two years ago...It was raining and all the taxis were full, so the director asked the Korean receptionist, a super nice lady who can calm any hysterical kid reeling from the paralysis of mommy leaving her in a language institute, in my school, to call us a cab.

"There's an adult book store in our neighborhood," the director said as the taxi turned left along the long stretch of fallow rice fields. "I found it the other day." The female Canadian teacher, feeling a little uncomfortable, said that it would have been better if the cab ride home was just all guys.

"I don't go to those places," the Director added defensively.

"I do," I said a little mocking also knowing that my personal lube is low and needing replacement-- I asked, "Where is it?"

The cab driver made a right turn towards one of the ubiquitous Family Marts that line my area. "It's the place that has green windows. They use some adhesive to prevent looking in," he replied. Except for me, people are having sex all the time.

They have these "love hotels" with funny, 14th century Old English names like "Castle Rock." Couples, lovers, "sanchos/sanchas," cheating spouses, escorts on business and the like use the facilities for quick one hour love sessions. If you drink with Koreans, they down beer quickly. So they must have sex quickly, too. Right? We drove by the adult book store. The green adhesive blocked the light from the store. It looked closed. It was a cloudy, chilly day, unseasonably chilling for Spring. I welcome the chilly weather here in my little "Gob-pan-jong." Back in Los Angeles, it's always warm and pleasant. It has an "unreal" feeling to it like the Hollywood movie set it really is. You've seen the movies where the street is "wet" from a fresh rain but everything else like the buildings look dry? That's Los Angeles. Fake wetness. Fake boobs. Botox lips. Botox butts. Plastic surgery of chins, abs and eyes. Dog diets, dog biscuit stores. And here I am going to buy some silicon lube and look at some whacking magazines (Airplane reference).

Around 9pm I was rested and decided to go out to check out the adult book store. I walked for ten minutes. My big Saturday night plans: I am going to buy some magazines and some lube and take myself out for a nice dinner! How romantic! The road that runs parallel to the rice fields is dark and the cold wind is hitting my face. I walk pass buildings in various stages of construction, big yellow, Tonka style trucks, mud piles, brick piles and finally the green windowed book store! Salvation, reader! I look south towards the large red neon lights of the Presbyterian church a half a mile away. Nothing says Christianity like large, red neon lighting of the Cross of Jesus and tele-prompter flashing verses on a church building.

The Book Store is a large room. There are wood-grained shelves that line all four walls. Dildos, vibrators and edible panties hang from metal mesh or sit on the shelves, nicely arranged for viewing. These are all imported American products. The boxes are in English. You would think that the Korean Chaebols (big industries like Samsung) would have sex subsidiaries that make adult toys but they don't. Maybe "Sam's Hung" would be shot down as a bad idea?

Anyway, I am looking around the shelves, floor and such and there are no books or magazines, anywhere! It's a Porn Store not a Book Store. There's silicon asses, mouths, and vagina's all for sale. All pink, open and ready for adventure. Pink, black and white vibrators of different sizes and shapes and textures. If I had a girl friend would I want her to have a big, black vibrator next to the pillow, ready for action? How could I compete with that? Forgettabout it! Disgusting, huh?

The panties are different colors and sizes. They are of the "easy access" ones for love making. They are taste...full. The owner stumbles out and greets me. He is speaking to me. It sounds like he is inviting me to take my jacket off and stay a while, maybe have some coffee, discuss politics and personal lube choices perhaps? His dark red, blood shot eyes are in need of some major Visine, reader. And his openness and cordiality make me feel uncomfortable. I guess it's just my desire to remain anonymous when I shop for lube. I tell him thank you, I am just looking. He points to the wall that has Korean condoms and lubricants. One of them says "Adam." I have a brother named Adam, I think! His name is on a condom box; I got to tell him! I point to a magazine that laid on the shelf. A pretty girl in panties is smiling from the page. I ask him if he has anymore. He says he doesn't. In fact, he doesn't sell magazines or books. A porn store without magazines? I know this is Korea, but come on! I know I am being culturally insensitive, dear reader, but it's like pizza without cheese. It's like french fries without ketchup. It's like South without North. WTF?

I continue wandering around looking at the sundries. Pictures of Caucasian woman on boxes, their faces smiling, open to any sort of need and desire I may have. But no magazines. Ah, the frustration! As I sometimes do, reader, when I wonder around, I maybe yell out something in English; it's okay no one understands or cares really. Half the population is drunk after work and they must think that anyone who comes here to live must be crazy, so leave him be! However, tonight inside the Porn Den of "Gob-pan-jong dong" I don't yell out loud or babble to myself. This would invite Red Eye to talk to me again. Maybe he's really lonely working in a porn store, in the middle of Korea, so he drinks, his eyes swell up, he watches his DVDs over and over, or from the lack of visitors and when he sees a foreigner, he feels like a new friend, a white savior, has just arrived. One who knows how his lonely heart beckons for late night conversation at the Porn Store. And who wouldn't? There's a Christian church every half mile from the Porn Store. Imagine that pressure the owner feels? He's competing with God. And that's a losing game, kind reader. I leave the Porn Store. No magazines. No lube. Just empty hand. Zen Koan: What is the sound of one hand whacking?

Funny Business Names in Korea

2008-04-17T23:36:00.005-07:00

I see businesses with funny names and posted these for your enjoyment.

Mixed use commercial building Korean Style

2008-04-13T03:57:00.005-07:00

We had another fire this past week but this time it was located down the street from the school. I will post pictures later. What I wanted to blog on about was the quaint Korean style of mixed use of commercial space and the speed at which Koreans build stuff.

If you see the picture of the office building, on the first floor is a Hyundai dealership. The second floor is a restaurant, the third floor a pool hall, the fifth floor a dental clinic, the sixth floor a "nori ban" or Karaoke club and the last floor is a bar. This is Korean style for sure. You could spend the whole day in that building! Buy a car, eat lunch, drink some beers and play pool and make it in time for your dentist appt. After the dentist, go upstairs to the bar and later meet your friends to eat and drink at the "nori ban." Back in the States, as you know, this style of mixing commercial space does not happen like that. You have doctors and dentists in a building but not a pool hall, restaurant and a dentist.

Near my school is a three building complex called Digital Empire. It was set-up to attract technology companies to rent space. Inside the two block long complex, are dozens of restaurants, convenience shops like 7/11, shoes stores, businesses and apartment housing. Koreans build things quickly. A new subway stop will open in a year, after I am gone, that will decrease traffic and bring in business.

A restaurant down the street from my apt, closed up shop and went out of business--this week. A day later, all the restaurant equipment was gone. Yesterday and today they gutted the restaurant, took away the walls and tile and will install a new floor. That's fast. The workers shovel dirt and cement into this 50 lb bags, move them via cart and dump the dirt into the back of a big truck, all day long. A lot of intensive manual labor. Incredible.

Riding around today on my bicycle I realized that I can eat, shop and live a very complete life without a car. Korea is organized that way so using a car is superfluous. I like that a lot.

Bad Teacher Updated 4/16/08

2008-04-12T07:57:00.005-07:00

Sometimes my students will say, in cute English, that John is a "bad boy." It's funny when they tattle on each other and then they get upset about it when someone tattles on them. So this week, Mr. Palmer is a "bad teacher." My student's tattled on me! A few unhappy parents have called the school threatening to remove their kid (and thus, their money) from the school and to ensure that their children are not teased or hit by other students.

Dio's mom is one of the big contesters. During "Robot Dance" two weeks ago I had combined my class with BDawg's class. Dio got kicked by a couple of students. I didn't see it because we had 14 kids dancing and "freezing" on the very small carpet circle. Robot dance is basically a game. When the music stops playing they must "freeze." Hence, the "robot" part of the game.

There I was sitting at the desk talking with two of my students when I saw Dio on the floor crying. Just a little sniff and tear. That's all. Also, the other day, when the students came into my class, Dio decided to just lay on the carpet and do what Dio does: act lazy. So, K-Fed decided to step on his leg. I didn't see K-Fed do this. I was busy helping another student. So Dio's mom calls expressing her concern. That's okay by me. I even met the lady for a parent-teacher-assistant Director-Director meeting on Thursday this week.

I also meet Roy's mom. She's a nice lady, really. But over the phone she yelled at the assistant Director about Roy being picked on in my class by K-Fed. K-Fed is evil. He teases them. He hits them. It looks like play fighting. They have these rolled up paper swords and they "en gard." They hit each other. If it gets too rough then, Roy will cry. Roy will cry when K-Fed tears up his sword too.

K-Fed is a really sneaky boy. Psycho sneaky b/c I don't see some of the stuff he does and I don't understand the teases and insults he hurls like projectile vomit (Exorcist reference). And when I do catch the little bugger, I reprimand him.

So, I got two angry parents, one unhappy boss, an assistant Director who was reduced to tears by Roy's mom and an American Director all on and up my ass! It hasn't been a fun week. It's very crowded in my ass! It could be worse, I could be losing my house (I had to poke fun of a relative of mine). I do want to be a great teacher for my one year stay in Korea.

I now have a teacher assistant in my class. I have assigned seating. I pick up the crackling sounding "white" phone in the classroom and call if any of them start to cry, have a paper cut, an argument, etc. Baby sitting. Expensive baby sitting which includes a paid apartment and cheap lunches.

Yesterday, little cute May cried for 10 minutes in my class because Sarah and Emily (the same class as K-Fed and Dio and Roy) teased her. I had to call the asst director who came up stairs and she made them apologize. Didn't help. I hear Sarah and K-Fed are leaving the school...

If I lose K-Fed and Dio as students, it will be great. Sometimes losing a customer is healthier for the business. Having a teacher asst for 20 minutes in my class is nice too because she will help with their jackets and back packs (they're six year olds and still can't zipper their up their own jackets) and will talk to them in Korean, help me discipline them to chill and report what they say to each other. Also, she can tell the Asst Director and Director I am a good or bad teacher too! Maybe next week a student will tattle on me and say "Good Teacher!"

***Update***

Well, kind blog reader it looks like I only have three students left in that one class where the parents complained and yelled at the assistant director. During the parent-teacher-assistant director-Director meeting last week, one of the parents told me she would keep her son, Dio, in the class. Anyway, I heard his whiny voice and wheezing ass yesterday leaving the school yesterday around 12:30pm. He waved to me. His mom bowed. I learned today that she had removed him from the school. And that Roy's mom did the same.

Another class I have on Tuesday and Thursday, had five students absent on Tuesday. Tomorrow, which is Thursday, I will find out if they are sick or if they also dropped out of the school. I can't tell if my boss is mad or angry, but I asked the CFO if I was going to get canned and he said no. On the other hand, this might be a "saving face" technique. Tomorrow is another day and if I find myself on the street soon, I will take the train to Seoul, stay in a Korean style hotel, and look for another job. To be continued, ad nauseaum...

Do Korean Cats smell like Kim Chi?

2008-04-12T07:25:00.005-07:00

Cats are pretty rare here in Korea. As an undergrad at Cal Poly, my Korean friend, who's nick name was "Speedy Gonzalez" (he liked to be called "Speedy"), hated--I mean he hated cats. They gave him the creeps. It was an unusual reaction. Some Korean people here hate cats too. It's cultural and I believe there are a lot of old stories passed down that depict cats negatively and are believed to bring bad spirits or spirits of the dead back...I will investigate!

There's a local cat with a RFID tag in it's ear. (See picture on side bar). She's a sweety. I always bring her some milk. She lives in the Hi-Mart store down the street. The owner is very friendly. He showed me that the cat lives under the vinyl awning that covers the side of the Mart. There's a series of boxes that lead up to an entrance in the vinyl. When I took that picture, she was, at first, in the shadows near the entrance. But when I talked to her, she got up and walked into the sunlight and sat down for her picture. Pretty smart.

When I am in that area, I buy a little milk in a 5 oz container, drink about 4oz and carefully open the cartoon so that she can drink from the container. I basically peel the card board back in a long strip, so that she can drink the milk.

There's another picture of a stray cat in my hood. (See side bar) Basically, all cats look like that stray one. They are abandoned and they probably pick through the yellow bags for food or eat whatever is available. As you know Korean food is spicy and has garlic, I wonder if the cats eat that?

I don't know why that cat has a RFID tag. I imagine the owner did it for protection. It is pierced through her ear. You can see the scare and skin that has bubbled and later healed around it. It looks like the Challenger Shuttle and is yellow. Maybe that is to prevent it from being picked up by the authorities?