Monday, July 23, 2007

Back to my future

Hello boys and girls.
Ladies and gentlemen.

Long lost friends and foes.

I am officially out from the rock I have been hiding under.
You see, it was a rather big rock and quite heavy.

But, as luck would have it, nothing really happened while I was under my rock.

Well, there was one thing.

A few weeks ago I was in a horrible state of angst. I was on my yearly job hunt, stressed and unhappy, attempting to pick a city.
Or state.
Or hemisphere.

I had my search narrowed down to two places.

Las Vegas and South Korea.

Even though I had not yet been offered a job or even finished filling out the applications I was feeling pretty anxious about deciding which location would win in a fight.

South Korea may have military experience but Las Vegas fights dirty.

I scoured the internet, researching everything I could find. I made lists weighing the pros and cons.
I surveyed my most distant friends and closest strangers.

Nothing gave me a definitive answer.
Nothing screamed, “Move here!”
“This is the place to be!”
“Puppies taste like chicken!”

I had to do something pro active, sitting on my tuckus playing the passive, safe, logical card was not as helpful and reckless as I have grown accustomed to.

I needed a sign, something akin to a bouncing cartoon arrow indicating the right way.
Possibly even a bubbly hot pink skull and crossbones declaring, “Pirate rock!” and “This place will eat you soul!” all at the same time.

I thought, I pondered, and I decided on a foolproof plan. An infallible method of discerning the right from the wrong.

I went to a Korean restaurant.
I entered with the full intention of letting the menu do the talking.

If I liked the food, the motif, the pronunciations, I would move to Korea. If it was all too much, I would be come a resident of Sin City.

The first round went to Korea.
The restaurant had those fun low tables and silky pillows to sit on. Plus, I do love chop-sticks.

Vegas bitch-slapped Korea for the win in round two.
There was raw beef and pickled baby octopus on the menu. That seems a bit creepy. Even for me.

Korea took a lesson from Lil’ Kim, (and I don’t mean the singer) for the win in round three.
Half the menu was all about soup. I love soup.

It was a heated battle. There were harsh words in harsh languages. Cat fights broke out in the aisles, and possible on my plate. A war was waged in that little diner on that fateful evening.
By the end of the meal (and several bottles of beer) white flags went up, a treaty was signed, and a clear winner stood with their hands up in victory.

I am moving to Korea.

I have had one job offer already and am waiting for an interview with another school before I start signing paperwork and buying plane tickets.

So here I go again, here comes another adventure!
Wish me luck!

As a side note, or rather a bottom note, I believe I am going to remain on the topside of my rock for here on out. There will be much in the way of preparations and planning that will shortly become fuel for typing.

sigh... perhaps one day you'll feel ok about teaching our poor, uneducated AMERICAN CHILDREN!!
j/k. you know i'll love you no matter what continent you're in.
so best of luck in all that korea business and you had better come see us one more time before you head off. cuz you know my poor ass can't make it to korea.
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