Music, vengeful emails and pc bangs.
Well, lately I have brought about some happy changes and been happy to receive some changes. All the changes are basically good.
The dude is full-on in a Korean band these days and I am greatful I actually like their music. I worried what I would feel if I in fact, did not like the music of the band he had joined. Art school memories of friendships being drawn and abandoned on personal talented alone came to me. My first real boyfriend, I realized after we had gotten started, wasn't too talented and his friends who I befriended and befriended me asked me why I liked him so much and told me they thought I was more talented than him. Why thank you, but having never been confronted by such a situation in high school, I was at a loss as to what to do. Flattered they thought so about me, but not sure how that changed or if it should change how I felt about the boy. Hmph. Later resolved with a break up after finding my first Korean American boy at a summer program in Seoul. First Boy acted immaturely, many of his friends at first siding with him out of loyalty and later ditching him for me because his hubris was annoying. Why, Thank You.
So now, I am full-on in the Hongdae indie music scene and I write this post while taking a break at a PC bang from tonight's show at Drug. I'm with the boy and his bandmate, The Drummer, who is quite nice and just showed me a few new tricks to a game I'm newly addicted to, Kartrider. He's watching a recent game of Manchester vs Someone. Last night they played at a indie music competition called "Hello Rookie" to get a chance to play on tv and win a recording deal. They didn't win, but they should have since the bands that won were very pop and some of them even already had small recording company contracts. One of the bands that won last night is playing the same show tonight. Boy and Drummer told me that this lame band was luke-warmly received and played an encore even though no one called for one. Tonight's venue is much more "real" indie rock and rock n roll. Boy told me people called for an encore after they played, but The Guitarist broke a string, so they couldn't. While watching last night and hearing about the encore call tonight, I feel very proud for them. They are like a real band and stuff.
In my art life, I'm still recovering. Last month I finally emailed a reference who, come to find out, doesn't want to recommend me anymore because of what the department head and, no doubt, his Evil Withered Lackey Secretary said about my withdrawal to her. I explained the full story and she was a lot more understanding and later in a more vengeful email told her what the department head said to me about her behind her back. It was part friendly warning, part revenge on my part, I admit, but it was honest so I don't
regret telling her and I do not feel guilty.
I had been feeling a lot less regret after talking to my therapist about what had happened back then. She made some connections to my difficulty making decisions to my adoption, which made a lot of sense and strangely made me feel better about my grad school debacle. Apparently I'm aware that one decision can have a big effect i.e. my birth fam's decision to give me up. My adoptive parents' decision to adopt from Korea, etc. I guess being given a new perspective was refreshing and I felt less guilty about my part in it. I mean, still responsible but hearing a reason why this is a constant theme in my life gave me a bit of relief. If I'm aware of it and know why it happens I can maybe prevent it from happening in the future or learn to deal with it better. On vera...
But last night for some reason I couldn't sleep and was a bit down, ruminating about the debacle again. Yes, I had lost a mentor and recommendee but the air was also cleared, so I had some closure. Last night I realized it wasn't fully closed and the anger was towards the department head and his evil, withered, little elf. Not wanting to feel angry anymore, I figured I had to write and email and call him on his shit. Vengeful emails help for some reason. Instead of stewing, frustrated, I write it out and send it and almost right away feel some kind of relief though I also feel anxious about getting a response. I don't really want a response from him. I want to shit it out all over his head and have him sitting at his desk stunned with his own shit all over his face. Today, with no reply I realized (wishfully thought?) that he probably won't respond since he is a coward and an asshole. Talking about me and twisting it the way in which he did to others makes me feel that he will know his guilt after my email and he won't respond. He simplified and twisted my withdrawal into mere "immaturity" to others after telling me to my face he understood. I just hope he dies a horrible death. Is that immature? Well, anyway, I can't help feeling that way and do believe in Karma a bit, so I trust he will get his.
While in a bookstore today cruising books I found a book by a writer I have come to love after stumbling on a popular book of hers. The book I found is her autobiography about her brutal rape and what happened afterwards. My sister told me about it when I was home over the summer and I wasn't too surprised the author had actually been raped since the fictional book I had read had a visceral account in first-person of one the character's rape and murder.
I realized while reading this new book that I had in fact endured a trauma when I left Korea last time and withdrew from grad school. I had been thinking about this earlier in the day, when I had been home and looked up post-traumatic stress disorder and was surprised that I had all symptoms listed. Finding this book that I had been wanting to read since I heard about it confirmed that I am surviving something horrible and dealing with its aftermath. My life is one large mess lately and for awhile I was shell-shocked. Reading this book has been comforting. Though I have not been raped, I think my art has. The artist in me has. I can't even draw latley. When I do try to draw, I am reminded of the horrible incident. Reading this book has been theraputic. Reading about someone else's intense tragedy is strangely comforting. What I endured from an insensitive, selfish kyopo boy and an insensitive, selfish mfa program was violent emotionally and ruined me for a few years and counting. Slowly recovering. If this author can live through a rape, I can live through this. It really has been dramatic and traumatic.
I'm waiting for a big break from life. Waiting for something to come along and put me back on the right track, whatever that is. Waiting and waiting.
The dude is full-on in a Korean band these days and I am greatful I actually like their music. I worried what I would feel if I in fact, did not like the music of the band he had joined. Art school memories of friendships being drawn and abandoned on personal talented alone came to me. My first real boyfriend, I realized after we had gotten started, wasn't too talented and his friends who I befriended and befriended me asked me why I liked him so much and told me they thought I was more talented than him. Why thank you, but having never been confronted by such a situation in high school, I was at a loss as to what to do. Flattered they thought so about me, but not sure how that changed or if it should change how I felt about the boy. Hmph. Later resolved with a break up after finding my first Korean American boy at a summer program in Seoul. First Boy acted immaturely, many of his friends at first siding with him out of loyalty and later ditching him for me because his hubris was annoying. Why, Thank You.
So now, I am full-on in the Hongdae indie music scene and I write this post while taking a break at a PC bang from tonight's show at Drug. I'm with the boy and his bandmate, The Drummer, who is quite nice and just showed me a few new tricks to a game I'm newly addicted to, Kartrider. He's watching a recent game of Manchester vs Someone. Last night they played at a indie music competition called "Hello Rookie" to get a chance to play on tv and win a recording deal. They didn't win, but they should have since the bands that won were very pop and some of them even already had small recording company contracts. One of the bands that won last night is playing the same show tonight. Boy and Drummer told me that this lame band was luke-warmly received and played an encore even though no one called for one. Tonight's venue is much more "real" indie rock and rock n roll. Boy told me people called for an encore after they played, but The Guitarist broke a string, so they couldn't. While watching last night and hearing about the encore call tonight, I feel very proud for them. They are like a real band and stuff.
In my art life, I'm still recovering. Last month I finally emailed a reference who, come to find out, doesn't want to recommend me anymore because of what the department head and, no doubt, his Evil Withered Lackey Secretary said about my withdrawal to her. I explained the full story and she was a lot more understanding and later in a more vengeful email told her what the department head said to me about her behind her back. It was part friendly warning, part revenge on my part, I admit, but it was honest so I don't
regret telling her and I do not feel guilty.
I had been feeling a lot less regret after talking to my therapist about what had happened back then. She made some connections to my difficulty making decisions to my adoption, which made a lot of sense and strangely made me feel better about my grad school debacle. Apparently I'm aware that one decision can have a big effect i.e. my birth fam's decision to give me up. My adoptive parents' decision to adopt from Korea, etc. I guess being given a new perspective was refreshing and I felt less guilty about my part in it. I mean, still responsible but hearing a reason why this is a constant theme in my life gave me a bit of relief. If I'm aware of it and know why it happens I can maybe prevent it from happening in the future or learn to deal with it better. On vera...
But last night for some reason I couldn't sleep and was a bit down, ruminating about the debacle again. Yes, I had lost a mentor and recommendee but the air was also cleared, so I had some closure. Last night I realized it wasn't fully closed and the anger was towards the department head and his evil, withered, little elf. Not wanting to feel angry anymore, I figured I had to write and email and call him on his shit. Vengeful emails help for some reason. Instead of stewing, frustrated, I write it out and send it and almost right away feel some kind of relief though I also feel anxious about getting a response. I don't really want a response from him. I want to shit it out all over his head and have him sitting at his desk stunned with his own shit all over his face. Today, with no reply I realized (wishfully thought?) that he probably won't respond since he is a coward and an asshole. Talking about me and twisting it the way in which he did to others makes me feel that he will know his guilt after my email and he won't respond. He simplified and twisted my withdrawal into mere "immaturity" to others after telling me to my face he understood. I just hope he dies a horrible death. Is that immature? Well, anyway, I can't help feeling that way and do believe in Karma a bit, so I trust he will get his.
While in a bookstore today cruising books I found a book by a writer I have come to love after stumbling on a popular book of hers. The book I found is her autobiography about her brutal rape and what happened afterwards. My sister told me about it when I was home over the summer and I wasn't too surprised the author had actually been raped since the fictional book I had read had a visceral account in first-person of one the character's rape and murder.
I realized while reading this new book that I had in fact endured a trauma when I left Korea last time and withdrew from grad school. I had been thinking about this earlier in the day, when I had been home and looked up post-traumatic stress disorder and was surprised that I had all symptoms listed. Finding this book that I had been wanting to read since I heard about it confirmed that I am surviving something horrible and dealing with its aftermath. My life is one large mess lately and for awhile I was shell-shocked. Reading this book has been comforting. Though I have not been raped, I think my art has. The artist in me has. I can't even draw latley. When I do try to draw, I am reminded of the horrible incident. Reading this book has been theraputic. Reading about someone else's intense tragedy is strangely comforting. What I endured from an insensitive, selfish kyopo boy and an insensitive, selfish mfa program was violent emotionally and ruined me for a few years and counting. Slowly recovering. If this author can live through a rape, I can live through this. It really has been dramatic and traumatic.
I'm waiting for a big break from life. Waiting for something to come along and put me back on the right track, whatever that is. Waiting and waiting.