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Monday, June 13th, 2011

Time:8:40 am.
On Saturday, I had to judge some English contest in Nonsan, the neighboring city. Two of my co-workers had to go as well. The school the contest was at had a soccer field with artificial turf, which looked quite nice I thought, especially considering my school (and many others) only have a dirt field. My co-teachers complained about artificial turf being bad for the environment and very expensive. I don't really know how true that is, but it seemed like they were just biased against artificial turf and just repeating what they had heard without really knowing if it was true or not.

(This is rather common here. Some "expert" says something, and everyone eats it up. For example, Koreans truly honestly whole-heartedly believe in the concept of fan death. What is fan death? If you run your fan all night long with the windows and doors closed, you will die. Koreans believe this. Apparently, I have some incredible immunity to fan death. Lucky me.)

But it got me thinking, and I realized that the reason why they hated artificial turf so much is that, in Korea (or around here and in Seoul, anyway), there is hardly any grass! Or at least fields of grass to play in. It's very green, surrounded by trees covering the mountains, and there are pockets of grass where trees grow, but it's not common to see just a field of open grass. Even in Concrete Jungle Fresno, each school has a big grass play area and there are a multitude of parks, but here the school's fields are either dirt or artificial turf. I wonder why?
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Sunday, April 24th, 2011

Time:4:34 pm.
Mood:determined.
Lately, I've been feeling an impulse to make films.

I remember when I was 19, a friend of mine asked if I was going to see Kill Bill. I didn't know what it was. "It's the new Tarantino film." "Who the hell's Tarantino?" That's how little I knew about film. So I went to see it, and though I didn't know it then, that began a love affair with movies. It's funny, because I don't even consider Kill Bill a great film. Good, sure. Great, no. But I can look back at that and see that as my beginning.

Gradually, I began watching more and more films. Within a year, I was going to the cinema about 3 days a week, sometimes seeing 2 or 3 films at once. I watched everything, movies that interested, some that didn't, and some I knew I wouldn't like. I just wanted to see it all. At that time, it was just an interest in stories, good and bad. One day, Before Sunset was playing at a small cinema. I had no idea what it was, no idea who Richard Linklater was, but I had seen everything else that was out at the time, so I drove out to the boonies and watched it. Only people there were me and an old man. It blew me away. A rather simple story, told in kinda-sorta real time, with one of the most beautiful final scenes I've ever seen.   I sat there stunned as the credits rolled. Again, I didn't know it then, but it sparked something inside of me.

While in Sweden, I began watching more and more art house films, old films, "foreign" films, and my interest in the medium grew. I began to notice more of the technical aspects in movies. Over the past 4 years, that has continued to grow, and now I can honestly say this is the first time in a long time I've had a true passion for something. When I was in high school, I was a fanatic for Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, mixed martial arts, and martial arts in general. I was obsessed. I still enjoy those things, but that obsession/passion died many years ago. Film has replaced it.

My first 5 months in Korea were wonderful. New culture, meeting new people, teaching, drinking, partying. But as I watch more movies, I want more and more to be a part of the film business. I was planning on staying here for 2 years, but now I can't wait to get back home. I have 5 more months here, and then I want to apply for film school.

Interestingly, I mentioned this to my dad, and, perhaps for the first time ever, he sounded genuinely excited about something I want to do. Astonishingly, he even told me he has an 8mm movie camera and film projector, and had even made some short films of his own. I had no idea. He was an art major in college, and his artwork hangs around the house. I've never seen him paint. I assume he hasn't done it in many years. But somewhere in his being, he's an artist. At some point, he gave up art for a "normal" career and stability. In addition, he studied to be a teacher at one point, but ultimately decided against it.

Strange. I've always seen my dad and me as polar opposites. But we both began toward teaching careers, and decided we didn't really want that. He was an artist. I've begun to feel an artistic pull. Maybe I have more of my dad's personality than I previously thought.
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Tuesday, October 12th, 2010

Time:10:00 am.
Last week was mid-term week, so I basically stood in the back of the class and made sure they didn't cheat. Well, on Monday I mostly browsed the internet while they studied. Tue-Fri, I stood. And watched. And counted down to the end of the week.

Now it's time to start actually teaching. Now that I've had some time to prepare, I feel like I have a decent first lesson planned. But we'll see. If I start the lesson, and they just stare at me without participating, I don't really know what I'll do... Panic? Panic sounds about right. I got an idea from a guy who's been teaching here a while to do a "guess the question" game. You put an answer on the board (say, "Ryan") and they have to guess the question ("What is your name?"). The answers become gradually more obscure. The idea is that the students will blurt out questions. Whether they are right or wrong, at least they're speaking English. This sounds iffy to me, but he swears by it, so I'm going to try it. I do have a couple backup plans in case it doesn't work (and for filler, if need be).

I've been playing a decent amount of badminton and tennis. It's been so god damn long since I've played tennis (5 years?), and it feels great. My first time playing again was straight up embarrassing. I went with Ogechi, a cool chick from New York who happens to have two tennis rackets with her here in Korea, to a nearby tennis court. There was a group of Koreans there who were all too excited to play against a couple foreigners. Or with a couple foreigners. Whatever. So I pair up with a Korean dude, Ogechi pairs up with a Korean dude, and we play doubles. I used to have a decent slice serve back in the day, right? So I toss the ball, pull my racket back, and SWING! ......right into my partner's racket, missing his body by maybe an inch. Ugh. Way to get back into the swing of things (lame pun, yes!).

Well, I sucked. But then Ogechi and I played at a more remote tennis court a couple days ago, and I began to get the feel of it again. My backhand is awful, but my serve and forehand are back on track. Probably not as good as they used to be, technically, but I do have more power than when I was a middle school kid. I'm looking forward to playing more and more over the next year.

Oh shit. Class is about to start. I'm nervous...
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Tuesday, October 5th, 2010

Time:2:34 pm.
Mood: amused.
One of my students wanted to ask if he could go to the bathroom, but didn't know how to ask. So he squatted and grunted like he was squeezing out a turd. I got the message.
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Friday, October 1st, 2010

Subject:I have friends!
Time:6:07 pm.
Mood: content.
Last night, while waiting for the internet guy to show up, I got a knock on the door. A girl who introduced herself as Vanessa brought me a pan. Apparently, she had borrowed it from the guy who lived here before me, and was returning it. Turns out there's a military festival taking place this weekend, and she invited me along.

You see, this is a military town. In fact, the Octagon (the Korean version of the Pentagon) is located here... somewhere. But my first weekend here just happens to be the military festival weekend. It was actually pretty damn cool. There were tanks, helicopters, military convoys, etc. I got to sit in a tank, in a couple helicopters, in some crazy death machine where they launch missiles from, and walked through one of those military convoy helicopter thingamajigs. There was a tent where you could fire blanks from some gun. There was a huge trade show featuring all sorts of weapons. Oh! In Korea, every man over the age of 20 must serve in the military for 2 years. Even if you're famous. So there are actually famous people in the military, and a couple of them were at this festival signing autographs. There was a huge line. Weird.

There was also a military training course area. Unfortunately, I didn't get to check that out.

In addition to Korean military, the US Army was there. I can understand that. But what was weird was that the Swedish military was there as well. Wha--? I wanted to ask why, and to use my shitty Swedish (when else am I going to get a chance to speak Swedish in Korea?), but I guess I'm shy...

I also saw two of my students there. I actually didn't even recognize them. They just yelled out "Teacher Ryan!" and waved. I may have seen more of my students and not even known it. Now I don't feel so upset about my teachers in school not recognizing me. There are so many faces to remember, it's impossible to remember them all. Or even most of them. And I've only taught three classes so far.

Best news of the day? In addition to Vanessa, I met several other ESL teachers. An American, two Canadians, two South Africans, and one Aussie. I am not alone here.
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Thursday, September 30th, 2010

Subject:Week One
Time:4:20 pm.
Mood: discontent.
My transition to life in Korea certainly hasn't been as smooth as it was in Sweden, that's for damn sure.

I stayed the night at a hotel near the airport. The next day, I was driven to the high school I'll be working for the next year. I dressed up in a suit, and though I was nervous and jet lagged, I think I made a decent first impression. I was then driven to my apartment, which is pretty damn nice. 12th floor, with a balcony, and one hell of a view. A curious thing about my view is that I can see FOUR churches from my apartment. All within 3 blocks of each other. Overboard? Later in the evening, one of my co-teachers picked me up and took me to a supermarket/mall and helped me get some shit I needed.

All of that seems fine.

However, at the school, I was in the teacher's office, talking to the other English teachers, when one of them mentions I was going to start THE NEXT DAY. "Uhhh... really?" Talk about short notice! I thought I'd at least have the weekend to prepare. Thankfully, next week is midterm week, so that buys me some time.

This morning, I woke up to take a shower. No hot water. Therefore, no shower.

For the first two lessons of the day, I was the co-teacher, the assistant. This was helpful as it let me get comfortable standing in front of the classroom, the only foreigner on campus, eyes staring at me. The third, and final class of the day was my show. With less than 24 hours notice, and no internet at home, I slapped together an introduction and a lesson plan. It failed. It bombed. I improvised with another activity, two truths and a lie, and that worked fairly well. Not great, but OK. The class only really picked up when I invited the students to ask questions about me. They were curious as hell, cracked jokes, laughs all around. I also got to know a little about them. The lesson got off to a horrid start, but by the end the students seemed to be having fun and liked me. *whew*

I have no more classes today, thank goodness. So now I'm in the teacher's office killing time until school ends.

I've never been called handsome so much in my life. Females and males both. I thought that would be pretty cool, but it's almost TOO much. Plus, most of these people giving me accolades are high school kids, which is weird. Everyone seems shocked to hear I have a girlfriend, and I think it broke the heart of one of my co-teachers. Ah well.

It just so happens that another Californian, who I studied with in Sweden, is teaching English in Korea right now, two cities away from where I live. I don't even have a cell phone yet, but I'm hoping I can get in touch with her soon. I need teaching ideas and people to hang out with. I still don't really know anyone.

The internet guy is supposed to come to my apartment tonight and get the internet working for me. I'd be a sad panda without internet at home all weekend.
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Sunday, September 26th, 2010

Time:7:10 pm.
Mood: nervous.
I've been using LJ mainly for a couple communities lately, largely because I've been doing a whole lot of nothing over the past year or so. I decided to just comment on other people's shit since I didn't have much to update myself.

But times may be changing. I'm moving to South Korea on Tuesday. I think I may use this to document my time there. I hesitate to say I will use this to document my time there because I'm a lazy bastard and I can't say for certain I will. But I'll try.
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Friday, February 26th, 2010

Time:3:08 pm.
Mood: excited.
I bought a guitar. I guess you're never too old to start.
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Wednesday, February 17th, 2010

Subject:Breakfast
Time:12:41 am.
Mood: nostalgic.
There was a post on a community about pancakes, and it brought back a good memory.

I loved living abroad. I had a great time experiencing a new culture and all that, and enjoyed the different food, too. (Reindeer, in particular, is FANTASTIC.) But of everything I missed, I missed the food I can get here in the States. We have the best food culture in the world. And one thing we do damn well is breakfast. Getting breakfast in Europe pales in comparison to breakfast in the US.

One of the most satisfying moments I had living abroad: I was in bumfuck nowhere in northern Sweden. I'm talking, in a little tiny village with a permanent population of around 20. It was Easter, and I went with Elin (who I had only met a few months earlier) and her parents. Her dad grew up there, and since then almost everyone has left, but many still go back during special occasions (especially Easter and Midsummer). While there, we were all hanging out on a frozen lake with a little fire going, and Elin's mom cooked pancakes, right there. Not those flimsy European crepes (oh, I'm sorry, pancakes), I mean REAL, delicious, hearty, thick pancakes, American-style. In the middle of absolute nowhere, miles and miles away from the nearest town. Months after I'd had true breakfast food, the stuff I grew up with and loved, the stuff I had missed.

Then I hopped on the snowmobile and went flying along the vast expanse of the snow-covered frozen lake.
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Friday, January 1st, 2010

Subject:chance encounter at a bar
Time:4:50 pm.
Mood: relaxed.
I'm not a big fan of bars. I guess that goes with the territory of being a rather unsocial person. Loud music, expensive drinks, crowded. These things mostly just upset me. I met up with my friends at a bar a few nights ago, and left after about an hour. Just wasn't having fun.

On Halloween, I did a half-assed job of dressing up like Hunter S. Thompson and went out with my friends. I enjoyed seeing some of the costumes people had on. The one that really stood out was a guy dressed like a Nintendo. Like, the original NES system. He had a big ass cardboard NES around his torso, complete with the orange on button lit up, and had a Power Glove on one hand and the Duck Hunt gun on the other. Brilliant! But as usual, the loud music, the expensive drinks, the overcrowded area, the drunks acting like... well, like drunks. I began to feel a little out of place, so I walked around looking for... I don't know what. But I found something. It was a book. On a bench. Just lying there. Nobody sitting on the bench or anything. I wondered why it was there, so I decided to check it out. It was a novel by James Joyce. I don't remember which novel it was, but I began to read the first chapter. Yeah, sitting at a bar, reading a random novel I found.

And then a man sat next to me and offered his hand. "Hello, I'm James Joyce." I shook his hand. "Hi, I'm Hunter S. Thompson." This guy was dressed as an early 20th century Irish author. How fucking cool is that? I ended up having the best conversation I've ever had at a bar. His friend came by and joined the conversation as well. He was dressed as Groucho Marx. Awesome! Anyway, sometime during the conversation, I asked him which Joyce novel I should buy. He recommended Dubliners. Two months later, and I now have it.

Haven't started it yet, though. Gotta finish The Lovely Bones first.
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Friday, December 25th, 2009

Subject:Bah humbug
Time:12:59 am.
Mood: pessimistic.
I really don't like Christmas anymore. I used to love Christmas, like any middle-class kid who gets showered with presents. Now that I'm older, I've grown to despise the whole idea of it. The rampant commercialism. "Buy presents and Jesus will love you."

I don't like it, so I just refuse to participate. There was a Secret Santa thing at work. I didn't do it. I did buy my dad a vacuum cleaner he wanted, but I made sure to let him know I didn't want anything in return. I guess I feel indebted to him, since he's spent more on me in his life than I could ever spend on him. I haven't even bought my girlfriend anything, and I may not. Maybe I will. I'll be visiting her in Sweden next month, so I guess I should bring her something. But she already knows my views on Christmas, so she's probably not expecting anything anyway. I hope she didn't get ME anything.

Christmas is supposed to be about family, but it's really not. Thanksgiving is about family. That's when you sit around, eat good food, and socialize. WITHOUT the pressure to buy them shit.

I had to work tonight, so I missed the Christmas party with my dad's family. I'm glad.
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Saturday, December 19th, 2009

Time:9:26 am.
I'm not sure if I should be happy to have taken 7 1/2 years to graduate college.
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Friday, November 13th, 2009

Time:12:12 am.
College is coming to an end. There are 5 weeks left (maybe 4?) and I just have one more paper to write. Just one. It's a 12-15 page research paper, and I'm finding it very difficult to find the motivation to do the research. The thing is, I'm a good enough writer to where I can still get a passing grade by half assing it, and I've come to the point where I just don't care about getting an A anymore. I half assed my first paper and got an A- (though, to be fair, that was MUCH easier than this one). That means I can get a lower grade (let's say, a C-) on my final paper and still get a B or B- in the class. I'd be happy with that. Hell, I'm fine with a C. Just give me my degree and kick me out the door.

I do need to do SOME research, though... Shit, I gotta fill 12 pages.

For a long time I've been planning on going overseas and teaching English once I graduate. Vacationing is fun and all, but to me, there's nothing more enticing than living someplace else. There are things you can get out of it that you miss while on vacation. Studying in Sweden was the best year of my life, not just because I got to live basically carefree, party, meet new people, etc., but because I learned so much more about myself. I've tried to even explain it to myself, but it's difficult to put into words. I left for Sweden an insecure, awkward kid and came back a self-assured man who is genuinely happy with myself, with who I am.

Sweden is one thing. In some ways I had to grow up and adapt to my new surroundings, but in other ways it's more comfortable living in Sweden than it is here. I was looking into the JET Programme or perhaps finding a program to teach English in South Korea, China, Vietnam, Indonesia, somewhere around there, but I want to go somewhere I'll be completely out of my element. I want to be challenged. I've been looking at the Peace Corps, and in particular their English teaching programs in central Asia. I don't know why, but they're calling out to me. Peace Corps goes to three countries in central Asia, Turkmenistan, Kyrgyzstan, and Kazakhstan. Mongolia is another country that really interests me. I read a blog entry about a guy who volunteered in Mongolia. He wrote about how he'd wake up in the morning and his night time fire would be out. He'd have to get up in his ger (tent), in freezing cold temperatures, and start a new fire, warming himself while he drank his coffee or tea. In his words: "I love working with Mongolians, but the time of day I look forward to most is building my morning fire. It is my time of epiphany. As I feel the warmth that my own hands created, a fire that pushes back the cold and the dark, replacing them with warmth and light, I know I will live another day."

I am inspired.

I feel if I don't apply, I will regret it for the rest of my life. I have no control of whether or not I'll be chosen, but I can apply, and I can work hard to make my application stand out so I can be chosen as a Peace Corps volunteer. That's something that can give me motivation.

For her part, Elin completely supports me. She knows I'd be there for 27 months, and it would be difficult to visit. Although I would get vacation time (24 days per year), I'd have little money to go anywhere, and flying to wherever I end up would likely be quite expensive. If I had to guess, I'd say we'd see each other once, for 3-4 weeks, the entire 27 months I was there. We talked about it, and she'd actually be excited for me to go. She even said "I hope you don't go to Mongolia and live in one of those tents, 'cause I'd be jealous." Hahaha. Over the past 2 or 3 months, I've really come to appreciate her even more. Even though we live half a world away, we have a wonderful relationship.
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Saturday, August 29th, 2009

Time:5:08 am.
Mood: annoyed.
I finally went to bed early last night (by "early" I mean 10:30). I thought I may be getting somewhere. Maybe I was getting back to a more "normal" sleep schedule. Then I woke up at 3:30. For no reason.

Now it's 5 in the morning. Chelsea vs. Burnley is being aired live on ESPN, so I've got the TV on, but I don't really care about this game. There are three much more interesting games later, games I may very well be asleep during now thanks to waking up at this odd hour.

The MegaMillions jackpot was ridiculous. $333 million. I don't think I could spend that much money in my lifetime if I tried. I wouldn't mind being given that task, though.

I really wish I was sleeping.
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Wednesday, August 26th, 2009

Time:5:05 pm.
"Naturally, the common people don't want war; neither in Russia nor in England nor in America, nor for that matter in Germany. That is understood. But, after all, it is the leaders of the country who determine the policy and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy or a fascist dictatorship or a Parliament or a Communist dictatorship. ...voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is to tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same way in any country."--Hermann Göring
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Wednesday, July 22nd, 2009

Subject:Estadio Saprissa
Time:11:47 am.
Mood: lazy.
I wrote my experience attending a World Cup qualifier (Costa Rica vs. United States) a while ago on a message board, but wanted to document it here...

I meant to write this earlier, but I´ve been busy. Still traveling around Costa Rica. I´m in the north right now (La Fortuna, right next to Arenal volcano) and it is POURING! Never seen rain like this. Guess that´s what happens in a rainforest. :)

But it was beautiful in San Jose two nights ago. I was worried that it would rain. It had started to rain while I ate downtown 5 hours or so before the game. When I got to the stadium, 3 and a half hours before game time, storm clouds were rolling in. They decided to go away, however, and the weather could not have been better for a soccer game.

I saw some white dudes drinking beer outside of the entrance gate. I figured they were Americans, so I went and chatted with them for a while. Grabbed some beers. Drank. More Americans showed up and we had a little crew chilling in the street. Some Costa Ricans, both fans and street vendors, gave us some friendly shit talk.

Security at the stadium was great. Not pushy, but well-organized. Everyone was required to get rid of their coins in their pockets so no one could throw them at players (or other fans), and I believe the money was donated to some charity.

I loved the stadium. Yeah, it´s old and worn down, but what a great layout. There are no shitty corner seats. You´re either behind the goal or on the sideline. I found some people waving American flags at the very top of the stands (which were just concrete bleachers), so I went to join them. Interestingly, two of them, both wearing US jerseys and waving a giant US flag, were Ticos. Never found out why they were cheering for the US...

While the layout is great, the stadium itself is in disrepair. Some of the concrete steps actually wobble a bit, and the steps are HUGE. As everyone knows, the atmosphere is great, however. Fans are right on top of the action. I think the new stadium being built will be multi-purpose, with a running track around the stadium, separating fans from the field. While this will be better for visiting teams, it seems like it will put a damper on the atmosphere.

But not too much. The fans are incredible. They are loud, patriotic, singing, chanting... and considerate. They showed us no hostility (not in my area, anyway) and even seemed welcoming. It actually seemed like they enjoyed having us there to root against.

We represented well, I thought. We ended up drawing a decent crowd of Americans in our area, with several big flags. We got the "U-S-A" chant going several times, and then were quickly drowned out by the Ticos singing songs to shut us up. The songs spread quickly throughout the entire stadium, with one side behind the goal bouncing up and down like maniacs. Some people in our area were bouncing too, making the stands shake. This was a good 90 minutes before game time, and lasted all the way until the game started. Or, until the first 2 minutes. We got a bit quieter after that--and then even quieter about 10 minutes later.

The Costa Rican fans had a chant (one of the many): "Oleeeeeeee, ole ole ole oleeee, Ticooooooos, Ticooooos" We decided to adopt the chant, but couldn´t quite figure out what to replace Ticos with. We tried Estados Unidos--too much of a mouthful. We tried USA--didn´t sound right. Then someone--I don´t know who--came up with a great one. "Oleeeeeeeee, ole ole oleeeee, Gringoooooooos, Gringoooooos" Even the Costa Ricans around us liked it. I saw several of them turn to us and laugh. Of course, they then drowned us out.

I saw several Americans behind the goal, representing in the middle of a sea of Costa Ricans. Three in particular were wearing USA flags wrapped around their backs and skipping up and down in front of the front row. Back and forth. Back and forth. I saw some American flags on the other sideline, too.

When Gooch got fouled in the box at the end of the game, we waved the flag like maniacs and started the "U-S-A" chant. Hey, we had to cheer for something, right? It was also quite sarcastic. I mean, we knew we got our asses kicked and had no chance of evening the score, but we took our one chance during the game to celebrate. Why not? Some of the Ticos looked at us like we were idiots and held up three fingers, but we didn´t care.

Not much interesting happened after the game. I ran into some other Americans, and we remarked how far our country has come when it comes to soccer. One guy asked "How many Americans were here for the qualifier 20 years ago?" I answered "Maybe five." He replied "Yeah, and all five were probably friends and family." Yeah, we lost. We were expected to lose. We played even worse than expected. But the experience was magnificent, and it was a good sign for US soccer to see so many Americans at the game. No, we still don´t travel like English fans, but compared to 20, or even 10 years ago, I think it´s a positive sign.

Now I need to attend a home qualifier...
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Sunday, February 8th, 2009

Subject:Hero
Time:9:53 pm.
I haven't posted in here in forever, and I don't know if anyone will read this, but I have to write this down.

My professor is a hero.

I am taking a very difficult class, basically a senior project class for history students. I have to write a 25 page research paper. I've never written anything over 10 pages. Safe to say, I am intimidated and overwhelmed.

My professor is Paul Longmore. On the first day of class, he wheeled in on a motorized wheelchair. Obvious spine curviture, can't move his arms, and has to use a breathing tube. I have to admit I was a little put off at first. Throughout the first two class sessions, he has proven to be a humorous, understanding, and extremely intelligent person. I'm still freaking out about doing this essay, but he has made me feel more comfortable with it. He has been quite helpful. Very helpful.

I decided to do a Google search on him. I came across some things which have blown my mind. He has written an award-winning book called Why I Burned My Book and Other Essays on Disability. He writes articles for newspapers on disability rights. And he is a political activist. "In 1988, Longmore lit a match to his book on George Washington in front of the Social Security Administration's offices in Los Angeles as a protest to policies that penalized disabled professionals for earning money through education, fellowships and grants. The Longmore Amendment was established soon after, allowing disabled authors to count publishing royalties as earned income."

This has made me motivated to do well in the class. At the same time, it has also intimidated me even more.
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Wednesday, November 21st, 2007

Time:4:38 am.
Mood: disappointed.
They say "It's a small world." I say "Bullshit."
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Sunday, November 18th, 2007

Subject:Polish are confusing
Time:11:12 am.
Mood: hungry.
I came home from a fun party in the city center at about 3 am. Sanna (Swedish girl) and Kate (the lovely Polish girl) were both cooking. Eventually, Sanna went to bed, leaving Kate and I in the kitchen. Kate usually doesn't like to talk about her feelings or anything (she's like a block of ice usually), but she started saying all kinds of nice shit, topping it off with "I'm really glad I met you" and then a kiss. She also promised to cook for me tonight. Jesus Christ! Just 2 days ago, she would barely say hi to me. I swear, this girl is fucking with me.

I went to Stockholm yesterday for the day. There was a skiing and snowboarding big air competition in Stockholm Stadium, and as an added bonus they had a BMX exhibition in between. It was a lot of fun. free entrance, too. Getting something for free in Sweden is like finding gold, so we couldn't pass this up. Only problem was that it was extremely fucking cold. None of us could feel our feet by 8, so we decided to leave before it finished. Oh, and on the way back, some incompetent employee sold me a train ticket back to Uppsala for 50 öre (half of a crown), which is... *does calculation* 8 cents. 8 cents! Holy shit! Cheapest train ticket EVER. It's usually 61 crowns to go between Stockholm and Uppsala (one way), which is almost $10. Talk about lucky.

Tomorrow my next history class begins... finally. And then on Wednesday, I leave for Russia. Yeeeeeeah!
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Monday, November 12th, 2007

Time:10:05 pm.
Mood: amused.
"They're just breasts!"

I support their cause 100%.
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