Stretching myself

Ok, so I left my book at home today, which might be a good idea from now on if I want to update this more regularly. School's been great. It's tough to describe it on here, because so much of my life in Korea necessitates body language. Ashley, one of the most unique girls on earth, has begun wearing a winter hat that looks like the head from a stuffed animal. It's her husky hat. She has an odd preoccupation with huskies which I have yet to understand. It's amazing to me how much Kiwi class has progressed since I got here and how little Banana class has. My greatest handicap is my ability to explain things. I always considered it a strength, but when teaching English to people who are too young for a logical system, repitition is far more effective. I'm learning that more and more on a daily basis, but explaining things is one of the toughest habits to break myself of. I see it most in Banana and Cornell classes, and little bit in my fourth grade class. They're all at a level where they can understand a little bit of my explanation. This little bit is all it takes to confuse them to the point of mental meltdown. Again, I'm slowly breaking myself of it.
Outside of school, I'm doing well. I met an awesome girl named Meghan who I've been spending at least a night of every weekend with. We have similar interests and a lot of fun together. It's been nice to have a friend I can just be myself with in Korea. I've also just started doing yoga and I continue to read more than I ever read at home. I've started drinking a lot more milk as I've been exercising more, and the milk here is probably altering my chemical makeup because I really have no clue how many hormones and chemicals are in it. Anyway, I'm still doing well and I'm feeling like a cog that turns rather than a cog that is turned again. I wouldn't say it's a good thing or a bad thing, but it's nice to be more active again.
I love you all and hope all is well back home.
Joe

Kafka on the Shore

So I've now finished Nausea. It was a rough go and took me longer than I thought it would. I'm about 350 pages into a new book now. It's called Kafka on the Shore, and it's one of the most amazing books I've read, but for different reasons than all of the other books I've read here were amazing. It's somehow taken the place of the cartoons I watched to get out of my last funk. It's taught me an important lesson, and I decided I ought to jot it down here while I have it in my head. The lesson of Nausea, it seemed, was that one must be for a reason, rather than merely existing. One must change things, affect things, and somehow be something to others. It is through these actions that one can know himself, but I'm already allowing Murakami to leak into my memories of Sartre. This book is full of Hegel, Haydn, Greek tragedy, and Arabian Nights. It creates a universe in which it can make sense, and a comfort in finding sense there. It's strange, because so much of the book, when looked at squarely from a normal context, is utterly absurd. Every time I try to talk about it, I lose it and end up trying to justify it all.
But, I suppose, I must now get to the lesson it's taught me. I've learned that sometimes I must feel the cogs turning. That's where I was for about a month. Other times, I must be the cog that turns, effecting change and driving the machine. Still other times, and this is one of them, I must be the cog that is turned. I must feel the universe, feel God changing me, using me, and let it pass through me. The only way I can explain this feeling is to call forth memories from when I was acting or singing or running full speed through the woods. It's like taking my hands off the steering wheel for a while, except that now I understand that it was not me taking my hands off the steering wheel and sitting in the driver's seat. I was ceasing to be the driver, and starting to be the car. I'm learning to do that now. Perhaps this is what they all meant when they prayed that God help them to accept the things they cannot change. That never really made sense to me. I still think it's a silly way to live, but I think I've found something similar that works for me. When you can't be the driver, be the car. When you can't be the car, it's best to be the driver. And on long, lonely trips from Philadelphia at midnight, it's sometimes just good to be along for the ride.