A wall so big, I can't think of, but more importantly when I TRIED to think of a good analogy or better title, I gave up because it just seemed like too much work.
I don't know; maybe it started with the month of May REFUSING TO FUCKING END, HOW LONG CAN A MOTHERFUCKING 31 DAYS BE?? It's not even June until fucking Saturday. I get paid in 3 weeks, but only have about $200 to get me through to there. I won't even get into the whole truckload of stress of not being able to open a remittance account so I can send money to my US account while I'm in Laos. No... I get paid 5 days after I leave, & can't use my Korean card outside this dirty, shitty hell hole.
I have some remote jobs to apply for, but the cover letters, I just can't. I literally can't bear the idea of writing one, even just altering some that I already have done for other, even slightly related, jobs. The new format I got designed that matches my new resume is in photo format, so I can't save it as a file. I have to apply to at least one more university because schools kept eliminating themselves, so instead of 3-4, we're down to 2. The most interesting program I may not even be able to apply to because it's unclear if the second round of applications is only for those accepted in the first round that was due mid-May, or if they'll accept new ones if there are sufficient openings. Because it's Europe so they're vague as fuck & I'm tired of looking, trying, writing for clarification and then STILL getting vague, non-answer replies because SPAIN/EUROPE.
I'm guessing I have to write the recommendation letter for Ruth to sign, but I can't do that. I don't believe there's a job I can get, I don't believe Spain will be anything less than a ginormous fuck show. I believe that people the world over are innately good because they're completely incompetent and devoid of intelligence. The world outside the US is incompetent & a shit show, & the US decided to jump right into the clusterfuck of fuck shows & start barrelling toward the finish line of ruin at a reckless, relentless pace that overtook the shittiest of shit holes, & there are no vines to grab, no semblance of brakes.
I hate the whole world! The only countries I don't mostly hate are MOST of the ones I've only visited, but I can't guarantee the hatred doesn't extend to those countriesI haven't visited, though I have every faith they would suck as much as the rest of them. My only hope is to try to get to Canada, but again, not going to happen. I can't live anywhere else in the world, but the US ended in 2016. There's nowhere to go & I can't try to feign some sense of optimism that I can get a job that will pay well-- I've given up on work I like. I like teaching! But not in the US, & I can't afford to get certified there & have I mentioned I can't fathom living there now? & there's no way to teach and make a real semblance of a living without said albatross of extra school loans. Mine are still at the amount when I left school, so fuck that.
So here I am, too exhausted to try. I have to, but I can't. If a true, goddamn miracle happens & I actually do SOMETHING, it will be halfhearted at best. I thought if I gave myself a day off today after yesterday when this wall grew big as fuck in front of me, that maybe it'd be surmountable or something, but it's not. I can't do anything to DO anything. The time I was home between Chile & Korea sucked only because I was so fucking broke, & I don't want to do that again, but there are no more places to dig deep from & do shit. My fucks ran out SOOOOOO long ago, I was bankrupted so couldn't afford any but the store has been out for years & isn't even bothering to look for more to restock.
Do you want to know the bright spot? That Amy sent me a keyboard since mine stopped working a while ago. Being able to type is SO NICE. She also sent me a lovely little knitted pad for face washing or the kitchen, the kick-ass notation stick-ons I posted on facebook, some coasters & lip balm. & that my favorite student, Leo, now calls me Yenny. He also calls me Golden Supergirl/Coffee Monster, but of course he thinks that upsets me.
So guys, I guess I may try again, sometime, after it's really too late & there's no more jobs to apply for. But with my depression & that I'm close BUT SO FAR AWAY FROM LEAVING KOREA, there's just nothing I can do. And that's just where I am now. Maybe getting out will rejuvinate me, though this has definitely sunk into a severe depression at this point, & I'm not sure that a change of scenery is enough. I suppose we'll see, but I'm not getting my hopes up. Those left with the fucks I had.
Wednesday, May 29, 2019
Saturday, May 18, 2019
The Curse of the Kenyan coffee bag
It all began innocently enough on Sunday evening when I decided to buy some beans instead of spending money on the americanos one must drink here since drip coffee is not a thing. This is after a trip down to Suwon, an hour away, because someone posted a sign for a shoe store that carried large read: Western-sized) handmade shoes. This, naturally, was a mirage, as the store had barely any sandals (what I needed), & only went up to size 8. I then wandered til I came to a store that ALSO only went up to size 8 in 2 styles, & I went with the pair that felt least likely to give me blisters & would go with most of my clothes. Sandals I paid 4x the price of in America bc EVERYTHING outside the US is a giant, motherfucking rip-off.
Monday morning I had time to make coffee, since I've re-aggravated a hip flexor injury that has now expanded to include my left outer hip. While I can now walk pretty much pain-free, bringing my knee up to my stomach or extending the leg back is still painful, so not much working out happening on MWF, my leg days. I then left, & had just sat down on the bus when I realized I'd left the coffee on the counter.
Tuesday I was committed to taking it with me, so even though it isn't to be done, I took the coffee I brewed Monday with me on Tuesday. I held it against my left side as I had recycling to take down, when I started feeling a cold wetness there. My coffee container had apparently sprung a leak, & coffee was spilling all over my clothes. Luckily, miraculously, it really wasn't noticeable, so at least I didn't have to deal with looks or comments at work.
Undeterred & ready with a liquid carrier I'd inherited from Ashling, I made cold brew on Tuesday night, & set the contained coffee in front of my door.
I was waiting for the elevator with my hands once again/as usual full of garbage/recycling, when I dropped the coffee, which exploded all over the floor, my legs, & new shoes. I was minutes late leaving for the bank because I not only needed to transfer money to my American account for bills, but also FINALLY was going to ask to set up a remittance account, so I don't have to take these trips to the bank & fill out paperwork to send money to my US account each month. With the remittance account, I can do it from an ATM. So now I had to go back to my apartment to wipe myself off. I left the puddle on the floor in front of the elevator, though I did put as many paper towels as I had on the roll left, pretty much ineffectually, on the floor.
I rushed out again, incredibly agitated because as I said, I had shit to do. We transfer the money, but OF COURSE when I ask for the remittance account, which was made for foreigners & many of my friends have, was told that only Koreans can get that account.
Of course. Because who else BUT a Korean would need to regularly send money to the US, or England, or anywhere outside of Korea on a regular basis, insular country that this is?! So now I have the unmitigated joy of running around Korea finding a bank with a teller who DOES know how to open this account.
& finally, the next day I went to see my doctor for my monthly check-up. Nothing new there, except I asked about how long a pulled muscle takes to heal, & she told me to go down to the 3rd floor of that building and see the orthopedic. The blessed man trained in the US, speaks English, & of ALLLLLL my luck, after an x-ray & an ultrasound, said I had torn, not pulled, the muscle. He said it shouldn't require surgery, but I needed to rest & not workout for about 5 weeks. Because, awesome. Aside from needing to remain bathing suit ready for summer, I get the added bonus of my anxiety not having exercise to help keep it checked. So really? This week could go bite itself.
Monday morning I had time to make coffee, since I've re-aggravated a hip flexor injury that has now expanded to include my left outer hip. While I can now walk pretty much pain-free, bringing my knee up to my stomach or extending the leg back is still painful, so not much working out happening on MWF, my leg days. I then left, & had just sat down on the bus when I realized I'd left the coffee on the counter.
Tuesday I was committed to taking it with me, so even though it isn't to be done, I took the coffee I brewed Monday with me on Tuesday. I held it against my left side as I had recycling to take down, when I started feeling a cold wetness there. My coffee container had apparently sprung a leak, & coffee was spilling all over my clothes. Luckily, miraculously, it really wasn't noticeable, so at least I didn't have to deal with looks or comments at work.
Undeterred & ready with a liquid carrier I'd inherited from Ashling, I made cold brew on Tuesday night, & set the contained coffee in front of my door.
I was waiting for the elevator with my hands once again/as usual full of garbage/recycling, when I dropped the coffee, which exploded all over the floor, my legs, & new shoes. I was minutes late leaving for the bank because I not only needed to transfer money to my American account for bills, but also FINALLY was going to ask to set up a remittance account, so I don't have to take these trips to the bank & fill out paperwork to send money to my US account each month. With the remittance account, I can do it from an ATM. So now I had to go back to my apartment to wipe myself off. I left the puddle on the floor in front of the elevator, though I did put as many paper towels as I had on the roll left, pretty much ineffectually, on the floor.
I rushed out again, incredibly agitated because as I said, I had shit to do. We transfer the money, but OF COURSE when I ask for the remittance account, which was made for foreigners & many of my friends have, was told that only Koreans can get that account.
Of course. Because who else BUT a Korean would need to regularly send money to the US, or England, or anywhere outside of Korea on a regular basis, insular country that this is?! So now I have the unmitigated joy of running around Korea finding a bank with a teller who DOES know how to open this account.
& finally, the next day I went to see my doctor for my monthly check-up. Nothing new there, except I asked about how long a pulled muscle takes to heal, & she told me to go down to the 3rd floor of that building and see the orthopedic. The blessed man trained in the US, speaks English, & of ALLLLLL my luck, after an x-ray & an ultrasound, said I had torn, not pulled, the muscle. He said it shouldn't require surgery, but I needed to rest & not workout for about 5 weeks. Because, awesome. Aside from needing to remain bathing suit ready for summer, I get the added bonus of my anxiety not having exercise to help keep it checked. So really? This week could go bite itself.
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