Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Canada Land When, Teacher?!

Every few weeks, somebody from home remembers that I’m alive somewhere in the world and emails me to ask when I’m coming home. I don’t mind one bit; it reminds me that somewhere in the world, to somebody, I’m at least a passing thought. In turn, every few weeks, I spit out a detailed, lengthy response of my plans from here until the end of eternity, because concise has never really been the adjective for me. In spite of some emotional set backs, The Plan has changed minimally since December. Yet, every few weeks a new email rolls in. As my wordiness need not be encouraged, perhaps this will spare the world a few thousand more of my words by decreasing the email flow for just a short while.

My work VISA is due to expire in mid-October. I spoke to The Boss Man today in the hopes of getting the ball rolling on an extension; somewhere between November 1 and December 1 ought to do the trick. For financial reasons, I’m likely to return home immediately following my contract. At this point I expect to be showered with the admiration and copious amounts of beverage that come with having not seen somebody in well over a year. Just shortly before I wear out my welcome and people start to remember me as I am, rather than as the fantastically flawless and worldly friend that they’ve been building up in their minds during my absence, I’ll more than likely return to Korea. I'll seriously consider other spots, such as Taiwan or Vietnam, but am rather fond of familiarity. The time line on this is likely mid January to early February. That ought to give me more than enough time to spread the love at night while spending ridiculous amounts of time in the library during the day.

Oh, how I miss going to the library. Any library with an abundance of books in a language that I’m literate in, with more words on more pages than I could possibly ever read, would bring me to tears right about now. I miss certain people, too, of course, but if I had to pick just one …

Every now then some of the emails that I receive wondering if I’m still alive in the world somewhere express a similar sentiment: “but you just have to come home, Rebecca Teacher! And stay! What am I going to do with out you?! *sniffle*” It’s cute, really. Melodramatic, but cute. I imagine that those who stop to wonder these things will probably do whatever it was they were doing for the previous 12-14 months that I wasn’t part of their life. Given that some of you have married, popped out babies, and died in this time, I suspect that life will continue to happen without me in arms reach. Now, why it is that I don’t consider a lengthy return home to be the best option is a fair enough question.

When I’m bored and in the dumps, I make a point of perusing the Canada Job Bank. Doing so reminds me of what a good deal I have here. As tempting as it is to return to the world of serving or being a corporate office drone, I think that I’ll stick to kimchi and goobery children, thanks. While there is nothing wrong with being satisfied in either a service or a corporate drone position, I have tried both and know that doing either causes my brain to slowly shrivel until I finally lose almost all will to continue getting out of bed in the morning. In other words, I’m not one of those people. I may not quite know what satisfies me or where to find it, but knowing what doesn’t please my fancy and avoiding those things is as good a place as any to start looking.

One of these days, when I get my thoughts together and can focus on one thing for more than two minutes at a time, I’ll apply to graduate school. Of some sort. I’ve considered law, journalism, education psychology, teaching, advertising, and a number of other things. Life would probably have been much easier had I not been born academically inclined. Options are a peril for the attention challenged among us. Ideally I’ll find this focus sometime around the fall of 2009 or 2010. Until then, I’ll stick with the option that affords me the time and money to live my life rather than hate it.

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