Kimchi, not for me

It's windy outside, and for the first time, it isn't wind that feels like it came straight from kind of God-sized hair-dryer. There's some big storm in some big body of water nearby, and I'm extremely thankful for it. It's actually pleasant. I've opened the windows in my apartment and turned off my air conditioner which, much to my chagrin, has actually helped my cough as all the Koreans have been telling me.

In any case, it's another Saturday night around 10 PM-ish with me in the PC room near my apartment. I am, yet again, feeling a bit down.

And because I can (regardless of who I accidentally let into my blog world), I'm going to vent.

I have to move. Of course, I've known about this for awhile. But there were other bigger issues, mostly just the excitement about my trip home and my anxiety about my job screwing up my plane ticket. But now that I have my plane ticket...I don't want to move. I REALLY really really like my new apartment.

And as of Friday it was deemed that I am going to move into the same building as my co-workers. But Adam and Beth are moving out. I'm pretty sure Elisabeth and I are going to share an apartment, which we both agreed (after we volunteered to share one) would probably not be a good idea.

And I don't buy the thing about a new law requiring neighbors to sign off before a tenant with pets can move in. My current apartment is the third place I've lived in Korea, and pets have NEVER been an issue. But the much nicer apartment they had found for me couldn't take pets (supposedly) and so then they could not find ANY apartment for me. The reason they couldn't find ANY apartment for me is because they're only looking in the high-rise type buildings for reasons pertaining to my safety. My first apartment was in a regular four-floor "villa" (as they call them). And this is yet another time that I find that no matter how much I protest and say that I'll be perfectly safe in a villa building, my words, somewhere between my mouth and their brains, poof into oblivion and float away to some happy place where I will console myself with thinking that they matter. Forgive me for sounding cynical and being negative...I'm just overwhelmed and frustrated.

Anyway, and then today I had three prospective tenants come to look at my current apartment. The first one came when I was taking a nap, and rather than ringing the bell like any quasi-civilized person would do, she just stupidly kept on trying to punch in the number code to unlock the door. I had locked the door so that the number code did absolutely nothing, so I was safe and sound inside. But the woman tried to punch in the code at least 6 or 7 times, while (I confess) I stood there glaring at the door while trying to rub the sleep out of my eyes. I picked up the intercom phone thingy and told them I was sick (admittedly a lie) but it did not deter them. So I had to make myself decent, and let them in. Two more people came over the course of the day, and the second also tried to punch in the code before trying to bell. I think that was the most frustrating - HELLO - you know that the apartment is currently occupied, why in the world would you even *attempt* to just barge in?? The last people that came were actually quite pleasant...I'm rooting for them.

So only 10 days until I go home, which is exciting, because I'm only hours away from being in the single digits! Yes! But...on that note as well...

See, there's something you have to understand about me. I'm the child that always cried on Christmas afternoon. All the excitement, the happiness, the decorations, the mood, the atmosphere...it was all over. It wasn't about the presents. It was about the mood and general atmosphere. I am SO excited to go home. But, particularly because of my frustrations with my job, I came just now come to realize how difficult it is going to be to come back to Korea after two weeks at home.

Now...before you well-meaning people chime in to tell me just how awful it is to live in the States (specifically close to my family), it's not about anything other than HOME. Familiarity. Being in the "citizens" line at Immigration. I'm used to being here (in Korea), and it's really only been since I started pondering all I was looking forward to about going home that it hit me just how foreign life is here. I mean, routinely foreign, but foreign nonetheless. I'm used to it being foreign, but that doesn't mean it's home. And on one hand, it is home. But it also isn't. And with things at my job being kind of unpredictable and tense, other than my amazingly wonderful co-workers, friends, and animals, I have little else to look forward to when I come back. Does that make any sense?

The thing is, I'm not just needlessly trying to be unhappy. As far as my job goes, I have some legitimate concerns and frustrations. I just realized today that while my upcoming vacation is well-timed insofar as I think I really need it to make it any longer in this country, it's also poorly timed. And you know what? I'm not even going to try to explain that one.

In other bad-mood inducing news, Daive has another ear infection. We've been at the vet's office three days in a row having her ears cleaned out. It's awful. I have to hold her down while the vet sticks the cotton-covered cleaner-doused hemostats in her ears, while she yelps and SCREAMS as if she is being murdered. The worst part isn't the screaming though, it's when he has to reload the hemostats and she tries to hide in my shirt/armpit, and licks my face and the doctor as if to say, "If I love on you, will you please stop hurting me??" And then today there was blood in her ears. That's heart-breaking.

As a slight disclaimer, let me also say that I'm hormonal. That, with everything else, has made me the utterly irresistable ball of cuteness you have heard from tonight. Night everyone.