Wonder

 

My hagwon is very special- I am required to read and teach about Newberry Medal winning books to kids.  For this, I love my work.  I have read some boring books, to be sure, but I have also read some amazing books as well.  One of those amazing books is called Wonder by R.J. Palacio.
Over the years I have read countless books.  If I had to make an estimate, I'd have to guess vaguely that it is somewhere above 400 or 450 (assuming around 25 books a year, and that I started reading on my own at 8 years old).  Though to be honest, it's probably way more than that.  In all that time, I have never read a book like this.
There have been stories that moved me to tears, swept me off my feet, carried me away to the past or shot me forward to the future.  Taught me about economics, psychology, or history.  Granted me a view of what the world would have been like with one or two key changes.  In all of those books, this is the first to touch on a topic I've never known another author to- and for that reason, I am recommending it to you.
Let me explain my background a little to you, so that you can understand why it stands out so much to me.  I am from a family of four: my mother, father, brother and myself.  Everything about my family was normal (my parents worked, my brother and I went to school, we had a house with two dogs, a cat, fish, I was in girl scouts, etc), except for one thing.  My brother is mentally disabled.  I don't mention him much, simply because I am a very private woman and believe it is no one else's business basically.  I am also extremely protective of him.  Though I've improved greatly, when younger, all the way up until college honestly, I would become very upset and angry at those who made "mentally retarded" jokes, and it took an ex and two very dear friends, J and K, to help me learn to not take it so personally.  Although other familys with children who are disabled do exist, most of them only have one child to speak of.  I know, I've met many of them over the years at my brothers private schools he attended, or at volunteering with the kids.  Though I never felt alone as a sibling to a mentally disabled brother, it has remained a part of my life many don't understand. On the few occasions I allow the topic to be talked about, I usually end up getting the pity look.  Folks would nod their heads like they understand, and say how sorry they are.  Or how hard things must have been for me and my family.  It frustrates me.
When I picked up the book Wonder to read for work, I didn't know what it was about really.  It became obvious pretty fast that it is about a kid, August, who has some facial deformities, with the main story centering around his first year at a real school.  It was a dull read at first, moving pretty slow, and I have to say I wasn't too impressed.  Then the section written from August's point of view ends, and we are introduced to the same world from his sister's point of view.  Reading her first page made my heart start beating fast and attention become tunnel-like.  I couldn't believe it- the first ever book where a character has to process and deal with being the older sibling to someone with special needs.  It was overwhelming at first.  Not everything that happens for the sibling, Olivia/Via, is the same for me, but much of it is.  The way that the family revolves around the brother August, how genetics is something she will one day have to worry about, feeling guilty for wanting to have a normal life away from her brother, knowing and being unable to help when your brother has to fight against being aware that he is different from others, feeling pure anger towards those who would and do make fun of kids with disabilities- it hit close to home in a way no story ever had before.  There are books out there about every topic under the sun, and maybe I simply hadn't taken the time to look, but I have never come across another story like this one.  I have to tell you, it felt good to be understood, and to understand where this character, Via, was coming from. 
Wonder is not the best book you will ever read, and it probably won't change your life.  It will though, help you understand a world that many people are still afraid of.  If you would like to know what it is like to be someone with a disability or physical deformity, how different life is for the entire family, and for siblings like me, read this book.  It will grant you a very rare glimpse and give you a small fraction of an idea of the world that other people live in.
If you do read it, let me know what you think.  I'd love to hear your thoughts.
Always,
Rita

Preparing to Let Go

As with many new transitions in life, everybody loves to discuss the good, but nobody is willing to mention the bad.  This is true for when you turn 18 and can start driving, when you turn 21 and can start drinking, and when you move away from home for the first time to attend college.  It is also true of the life I have chosen to live for the unknown future: being an expat.  One aspect I was never aware of, that no one mentioned and I didn't have the foresight to read about, was how hard and often I would have to say goodbye to those I have come to love and cherish.  I never knew that every few months, there would be someone new to let go.  A person I had only really begun to know, but that had become part of my social network, support structure, and dear friend.
While talking with a friend a long time ago, we were discussing this very topic.  They shared a magazine article they had read while on a flight somewhere that analyzed the differences between friendships back home and friendships overseas.  In a home country, on average, you have an indefinite amount of years (theoretically) to get to know someone, and develop a friendship.  You can take years to become close and get to know someone.  (With this, I believe many people are hesitant to push the friendship too fast, in fear of appearing needy.)  In comparison, generally the opposite is true for expatriates.  I know for me, I have found friendships develop at a much different pace entirely.  We know that there is a clock hanging above our heads with a count down that will start at some point.  Though it is not always known when, every person is aware of its existence.  Therefore, when we meet a person who we connect with, enjoy their company, and have fun with, we are not shy about contacting them right away to hang out every single weekend, or propose the idea of having a weekly dinner for example.  Within only two or three months, for those that I have genuinely hit it off with, I find that they become one of my best friends here fast.  It takes months, instead of years, to develop a close bond where we share everything, and we allow them to view us at our worst and weakest points.
Now granted, this is simply from my point of view, and it is one coming from an introverted and very shy women.  I have always been slow to trust and open up to others, so my perspective will be different from some of my friends who hit things off much faster than I do.  But, for me, the speed at which things work in Korea, as compared to the United States, is one I find truly shocking and a wonderful difference.
With this though, comes the aspect that I discussed earlier, of saying goodbye.  It is always hard to let go, though for me it seems to become more difficult the older I get.  Possibly the main reason is that with the friends I have developed here, they are people who have shared an experience with me that only other expatriates will understand.  Sometimes they are even from other countries (such as my friend S, who is from South Africa), which adds to the difficulty of letting go.  I never know when I will see them again, and that fear reduces me to small, curled up bundle crying my eyes out the night they leave.  Time eases the pain, and technology reduces the hardship of staying close.  I email, facebook, kakao, skype, google +, and tango with everyone I love as often as I realistically can, and stubbornly refuse to let the friendship wither away.  More often than not, if the other person cares as much as I, the time differences and physical space do little to diminish what we shared.  It is not the same though, and never will be till we are laughing and sharing together in person again.
Tomorrow I will depart for Incheon International Airport, sitting side-by-side with one of the best friends I have made during my time here.  He is one of three people that I meet within the first month of moving here who still remained (for those of you who are counting, I've been here 2 years and 4 months now).  We met randomly, purely by chance, with fate obviously working hard to ensure that we stopped and talked that day.  I am the last person he will see, and I feel beyond blessed and loved that he wants it that way.  When I have to walk back on that train, look up, and see in the glass that I am alone this time, it will be beyond hard for me.  It won't be the end, and it is never goodbye forever . . . but the pain, the unknown forever separating me from a person who I love, care for, and have shared so much with, reminds me how real, true, and deep the connection is.
I may not know when life will bring me together with every friend I have made here as an expat, but I know I will see them again someday.

Hello.
Goodbye.
Welcome to the expat life.

Always,
Rita

26 at 26

November brings many holidays and birthdays, including mine.  So in celebration, I thought I would share some fun facts with you may or may not know about me.

1. No matter how old I get, I still love Mac and Cheese.
2. I love reading.  No, scratch that.  I REALLY LOVE reading, like crazy woah!
3. I thrive off of change, adventures, and going places where I know no one and nothing.
3. My greatest fear is being forgotten.
4. My family is extremely important to me, and I would do anything for those I love and care for.
5. I'm a huge introvert, and people genuinely scare me sometimes.  (Seriously, if a person I don't know approaches me and starts talking to me, all I can think is: "Why are you talking to me?"  I'm not trying to be mean, I just don't understand.)  When around too many folks, I begin to feel overwhelmed, scared and anxiety-filled, unless I can block them out mentally (hence the constant music).  I do best with one on one, or small group settings where I know most folks.
6. I was born with wanderlust in my blood.
7. My father once went to a psychic for fun, and she told him something about each person in his family.  What she said about me fits better than almost any description I have ever heard: I sharpen my tongue with a pencil sharpener.
8.  I have loved four different men in my life.  The only one who didn't break my heart at some point was the first one.
9.  I adore Stitch, from Lilo and Stitch the Disney movie.  Please don't ask why, I'm not really sure.  Just something about that mismatch little guy, who's a bit crazy, very lost, and adorably protective once he loves someone, just touches my heart.
10.  Though you might not be able to tell if you don't know me, I am a HUGE nerd.  And proud of it baby!
11.  Strawberries are my favorite fruit.
12.  I love the fact that by the age of 26, I have owned my own company, moved abroad, started grad school, and run a volunteer program- all on my own.
13.  Right now I live in Korea, which means that when I come back to the States, I have to say hello/goodbye to everyone.  Though I thoroughly love living overseas, I cannot stand saying goodbye.  I hate it with a fiery passion.
14.  Teaching English has helped me learn more about my own language than 12 years of schooling ever has.
15.  I suffer from depression.  I have since I was in high school.  I have been on medication twice, but chosen to no longer take it.  Sometimes things get hard for me, and I really struggle with fighting the demons.  It is a battle I am not sure will ever go away, but I am prepared to fight until the day I die.
16.  Sometimes I am not able to find the words to express myself.  Literally.  Words are very hard for me, and my thoughts can turn into a tangled knot in my mind. It takes me much longer to speak when I feel sad or have mixed emotions.  If we are ever speaking and I don't respond right away, it just means I am thinking.
17.  I live to work, I don't work to live.
18.  My favorite quote:  Not all those who wander are lost.
19.  Over the past three years, I have taught around 850 or so kids, and I still remember a fair amount of them.  I genuinely love every single one, always will, and call each one my kid.  Knowing that I have touched their lives for the better, even helped some change their lives or make the right decision at crucial times, and watched them as they go down the road of life on their own, fills me with more joy than I can express!
20.  I am a born and raised Catholic.  My full Catholic name is Rita Marie Cecilia Ulrich- and I am proud as hell of this fact.
21.  That being said, I believe in equal rights for all people, no matter their sexuality.
22.  Thus far, I have visited 7 countries.  Countless more to go.
23.  After my skin infection healed, I had reoccurring flashbacks and nightmares for about 3 months.  That month with undiagnosed AGEP was the most terrifying in my life personally.
24.  Although my last school was literally hell on Earth, I learned so much more from my failure than I knew at the time.  I will forever be grateful for what I learned, though still despise the school for what it is.
25.  One day I want to work for an NGO/NPO and change the world.
26.  I believe that if it terrifies you to the core, then it is absolutely something you need to do.

So there you have it.  26 facts about a 26 year old living in the R.O.K.  I hope you enjoyed, and I'll talk to you next time!
Always,
Rita

Life, or something like it.

For a long time now, I have been wanting to write a post.  I simply haven't known what to write about.  One minute I have a great idea, but then the next day once I finally have the time, either the idea is gone or I have lost the energy.  About three weeks ago now I flew home after a year of being away.  It was everything I wanted, and more in some ways.  There were moments of feeling absolutely infinite: standing on an ocean beach, waves crashing over my feet, lightning dancing across the sky, best friend by my side.  Times where I could be me, and I was considered cool for it.  Walking down a trail with my oldest friend, talking about life and being able to say everything without hesitation.  Dancing under the moon in a fountain to B.B.King on his birthday after going park hopping all over the city.  I was the "long lost friend" home from around the world; the girl folks would meet and go "Wow, you live in Korea?! What's it like?"  Same questions, same looks of surprise, same comments every time.  To be honest, it's gotten old.  And it hurts- a lot.  Going home is comforting, yet alienating; joyful, yet sad, easy, yet oh so hard.  No one at home, unless they have been an expat, really understands why I am always so sad while back in the states.  But unless you have felt the excitement of saying hello to someone you see once a year, then realized a few hours later at the end of your time together, that it will be another year (or more) before you see them again- I'm afraid I cannot explain the roller coaster ride that one's heart goes through.  Nothing is more painful to me, aside from losing a loved one or friend.
After returning to Korea, I made the mental decision to not go home again unless it was for something important (i.e.-wedding, funeral, etc).  I haven't really told anyone this, and I don't know if anyone will see this from back home, but I have.  I can't stand the pain of being there anymore, it's too hard.  If you want to see me, you know where to find me.
I find myself sitting here, 1 in the morning, unable to sleep.  This year has been hard, and I am ready for it to be over already.  Losing one best friend to distance, another to a break up, starting graduate school, being so poor I couldn't afford food sometimes, and just struggling to realize that I am not who my ex said I was at our break up, have all taken punches at my heart and spirit, making it hard for me to smile throughout a lot of this year.  Before my trip, I also pushed myself- hard- to finish grad school assignments that were due while I was home.  I did 7 weeks worth of work in 4.  I was pulling about 60-70 hour weeks for four weeks straight.  Now, sitting on the other side, with just two assignments left in total, I find my brain unable to function almost at all.  I am beyond tired, to the point of not really feeling anything.  Though it should worry me, it doesn't.  I know I'll finish, I just won't be stellar.  And you know what?  I'm okay with that. 
I've never been good with words, or people.  Though I enjoy learning about humans, and observe them all the time, I just can't seem to find the words to express what's on my mind to them.  I wish I could.  I want to. I simply can't.  I guess, just know that I love every one of you, and despite disappearing sometimes, please believe me when I say that you are always on my mind and in my heart.
Always,
Rita

Update: And now, at 2am, I am finally going to sleep.  After writing about 600 words for my final paper in one class, I figure I have exhausted my brain enough to finally close my eyes.  Now to sleep for a few hours, wake up, write about 600 words more ( it must be 2500 words in total), and then go into work for a full day of teaching.  Oh, what an exciting life I lead. (<-sarcasm)

How I Came to Love Swing Dancing

Nearly eight years ago I was dating a very kind man from the northwest of the US.  He had learned swing dancing, something I had never even heard of, in an elective class.  He began teaching me the basics while we were together, and being one of those girls who never felt comfortable with the regular style of dancing, I loved this new dance he taught me.  It had steps I could learn and practice!  Though I gotta tell ya, I was awful at it in the beginning.  Man, I had no clue what the heck I was doing.  But I loved it!  It took another 3 years before I was able to find a swing dancing scene that I both could attend and felt comfortable learning in.  I was a junior in college, invited to a small event by a guy friend to his friends apartment where we were taught the basics after a friendly dinner with a bunch of folks.  From that night on, I went out to lessons at my college scene twice a week almost ever single week for the next year and a half.  I still think back to those Wednesday night lessons where we had to practice in a local bar because we didn't have a room we could rent at school.  Using a dirty floor, surrounded by locals who were enjoying a beer and a cigarette, those nights were some of the best of my life.  Friday nights we would meet on campus, and I used to become so excited about dancing that I would only listen to swing music on those two days to get in the mindset for it later.  I was desperately in love, and nothing anyone said could take it away from me.
Swing dancing quickly became my outlet, my escape to another world even more exciting than books and art- it gave me freedom to express myself, a way to get close to another person without feeling scared or nervous, and a chance to just let loose after a long day or week.  I love the fact that each person I dance with is unique, each song a little different, each moment on the dance floor offering a new opportunity to try my hand at becoming a touch more creative, a dash bit better. Nothing makes me light up as much as moving across a crowded space does, and every video or photo you will ever see of me has proved that to this day.  Being on the dance floor, throwing out some swivels or dancing with a random lead who you connect and have a killer dance with makes me feel like a million bucks and pretty awesome honestly.  The confidence I feel skyrockets, and I love swing dancing for that.
When I finally moved back to my home town after graduation, I was a regular swing dancer, had graduated from east coast to lindy hop, charleston, blues, and even tried my hand at balboa.  I became a regular there too, and made some very good friends who I still talk with to this day.
It has been nearly 5 years since when I took my first class, and I can't believe how far I have come.  I feel extremely proud of myself, and love the label of swing dancer.  When I realize that I am able to dance with someone, that all they have to do is slightly touch my back with their hand in a certain way for me to know exactly what they are leading, and hold full dance conversations with someone I can't speak a lick to here in Korea, it boggles my mind!  The slight nuances that go in to dancing, the weight balance, the foot placements, creativity, and ability to react quickly to tempo changes, are things I never once thought I had the capability of learning!  It's such an amazing and accomplishing feeling.
In these nearly five years, I have attended some pretty amazing lindy exchanges, swing scenes, and events (a lindy exchange is a 3 day event that takes place over a weekend where you literally only dance the whole time, grabbing power naps between and food when you have a free moment, lol).  I have danced with leads from around the world, traveled to international lindy exchanges, and visited scenes in at least two other countries.  Though not as impressive as some of my friends *cough*Nicole*cough*, I am happy with what I have done.  I am not looking to compete with how much others do, and never want to take dancing to such a level where it becomes something I stress over.  I dance for fun, and fun alone.
In honor of my love for this solely American created art form, here are two of my favorite videos of me dancing.  The first is from my time home in the states in August of 2012.  The second is here in Korea just this past weekend.  I hope you enjoy and smile as much as I did.  :)

From your Seoul swing dancing girl,
Rita

When an Introvert loses it

It was high school, my senior year, and yearbooks had just arrived.  Like everyone on campus, I was enjoying carrying around the huge book, having all of my friends sign it, and attempting to not compare how much emptier my book always seemed then all of the others around me.  During one of my classes, I can't remember which one, my best friend wrote her message to me.  She asked me not to read it till after class, so I said okay not thinking much about it.  When I finally did take a peek, I realized why.  She had written how she hadn't wanted to be friends with me in the beginning, and had actually tried to push me away.  We are still friends to this day, and I consider her my closest friend over any other, but man did it hurt to read that.  From someone who I thought had always enjoyed the friendship as much as me, it came as huge surprise to learn that she felt different.
Fast forward about 5 years.  I have graduated college, moved back home and was out one night with swing dancers from the local scene.  As I was still new, I didn't have any friends at the scene yet and was invited by someone randomly.  The guy who invited me out sat next to me, and he is just a giant teddy bear of a sweet guy.  He told me that, after he first meet me, he thought I didn't like him and was a mean person.  It took someone else who, though he didn't know me either, to explain that I am just a shy and nervous person, for him to understand.  I walked away a second time feeling confused and sad. 
Though I have other examples in my life of when people I thought were my friends later reveal that they didn't like me when they first meet me, or didn't want to be friends with me, and it still hurts just as much as the first time.
I know I am a hard person to be friends with sometimes.  Being stubborn, bluntly honest, quiet, sarcastic, and often very poor with explaining my thoughts or emotions, it makes it hard for people to get along with me or even like me sometimes.  Add to this that I am an introvert, and you have a wonderful combination of hard personality traits to take in.
Being an introvert in a world where three out of four people are extroverts makes living life hard sometimes.  Introverts are often misunderstood, seen as weird, freaks, or mean people who prefer to live in their own little world rather than see sunlight.  Everyone could not be more wrong.
I am tired of being misunderstood, viewed as a mean or angry woman, or avoided by people because they think I am a boring, straight-laced, whatever little girl!  I am just tired of it!  Friends tell me to only hang out with those who want to be my friends, but let me ask you this: How do you know who wants to be your friend if those you think are your friends hide the truth that they find you difficult or not fun to be around?  How is one to know the difference?  I sure as hell don't!  Just grow up and be honest- if you don't like me, then say so.  It is much easier for me to handle if you tell me that up front and in the beginning than later on in the friendship.  Otherwise, I start to think the whole friendship was a lie.
And you know what?  So what if I know where I am going in life?  You don't?  That's fine, I won't judge you- I have numerous friends who are trying to find their way, and I don't judge them.  But stop being angry at me because you are mad/scared that you can't be the same!
You're right, I don't drink alcohol that often.  You think that's weird or makes me boring?  Then you're a fucking idiot.  If you aren't able to have fun on your own without the aid of another substance, then I pity you.  I just happen to have enough fun sober, that the addition of alcohol is not needed.  Will I drink?  Yes.  When with friends who I trust, absolutely.  I just don't really see the point all the time.
You're scared or intimidated by the fact that I have morals or ethics that are strong and clearly defined?  Get over yourself and grow a pair.  Knowing what I believe, having a sense of right from wrong, is the only way I keep this world in check.  Somebody has to know when to say no, otherwise our world would be run by idiots who think doing stupid shit all the time is great.
Either be my friend or don't.  Either be there, care, and want to hang out with me, or don't.  It is as simple as that.  Don't half-ass it, fake it, or lie to me.  I will find out, and I will not be quick to forgive you.  I have little patience for people who deceive me, and if you don't like the way that I am, then you can shove it.
Always,
Me.

Crossroads

Days flow into nights, week days flow into weekends, and suddenly I find myself sitting at my computer and realizing that I have completed my first semester of graduate school.  Not only this, but I have been single for about five months now.  Sometimes I find it hard to grasp the way in which the past few months have flown by, like fall leaves on a brisk winter day.  I blinked and they were gone from my sight.  The first two didn't go without a struggle of course, but with each passing week, they seem to go by faster.
In the down time between my semesters at graduate school, I find myself contemplating life, as I'm apt to.  I feel like I was born with a thinking cap on my head.  No matter the time of day, or what I am doing, my brain never turns off or stops working.  In messaging someone I know through swing dancing, I was able to contact a peace corps member who applied for the Peace Corps while living overseas.  For those of you who don't know, I have wanted to apply to the peace corps for at least three years now.  It has been put off for various reasons, ranging from a significant other, to fear of committing for 2+ years to a country, or having life things get in the way.  The kind stranger informed me that I could indeed apply to the peace corps while living abroad, it would just take longer.  Approximately a year and a half's time, as compared to the six months to one year they describe on the website.  I plan on being finished in S.K. in about a year and a half's time. 
All the sudden, I find myself walking home from a long day at work, with a major decision I wasn't expecting to face for at least another year, sitting in front of me. 
I don't know about you, but when things are weighing on my mind as heavily as this is, I find it very difficult to function.  Walking in the door, though I was in my apartment, I felt lost and unsure.  My mind swallowed me up and wouldn't let me leave for about half an hour as it took this piece of information and tried to understand what to do with it- like an infant with a new toy.  As girls are want to do, I messaged two close friends to talk it out with them.  As the Christian that I am, I also messaged a friend to pray with me while I laid my worries before Him as well.
See, in the core of my heart, I know where I am meant to go.  Fear is holding me back from wanting to take the plunge yet.  Though not for the reasons you might be thinking.
Last time I tried to follow what it was God wanted from me, what I thought he was calling me to, which was teaching in China.  I still believe with all my heart that he wanted me to go there.  For whatever reason, He changed His mind and said no.  In a very resounding and loud way.  (See this blog entry if you want the full story: Embrace the Change Blog Entry)
I'm afraid that if follow this path, I will be rejected again, with something as equally painful and terrifying.  Though I know that this is rather silly sounding, especially from someone as logical as me, I can't help it.  There were times during the first few months where I would have full on flash backs to that health scare, and even now I am still learning about how AGEP has affected my skin.  I watch it like a hawk, and am aware of everything that happens to it.  It wasn't a one time health blip- it was a life changer.
What if this isn't the right direction, as much as I want it to be?  What if God doesn't want me there?  What if I screw up or fail the community I am placed with to help?  What if I let people down?  I want so desperately to get lost in the world, to truly help others and do more than just sit back and relax.  I want to get my hands dirty, learn another language, spend time getting to know people in a small town or village, help inspire change in kids lives, know that I have made a difference for someone, somewhere.  I want to be the pebble that starts the ripple effects, and step away watching them blossom on their own.  Or at least be a part of it all.

crossroads

Noun

1. An intersection of two or more roads.
2. A point at which a crucial decision must be made that will have far-reaching consequences.

So where do I go from here?  Do I try and go to China again, where I know I have a standing offer to work at a university?  Do I continue with my backpacking plans?  Or do I apply to the peace corps?  This is the dilemma I face right now.  I have decided I will make my decision by the first of September- thus begins the 2 1/2 month count down.
The Thinker,
Rita