I Think I'm Getting Weirder and Dumber

People who come to Korea fall into two basic categories. There are the people who are running from something, and then there are the social rejects. People running from things include the guy who told Ariel and me in our first conversation with him, "Yeah, I wore out my welcome at home." By this, he meant going to rehab eight times for cocaine. The other category includes those people who are so awkward that they don't really know how to have friends. We are talking Napolean Dynamite style, never had a girlfriend, wearing a pocket protector, watching Battlestar Galactica. These wonderful people are brought together in Korea. Sometimes I wonder which of these groups I fall into. Well, I don't have a drug problem, but I don't play Dungeons and Dragons. I like to think that I am one of the few "normal" people in Korea, but some people may disagree with me on that. Anyway, in Korea, you are friends with the people around you because they speak English, not because you actually chose to be their friends. In a way, it's good because it teaches you how to be friends with different types of people, but there is a downside. Ariel and I have decided that there is a spectrum of weirdness in Korea that applies to all foreigners. On one end are the real weirdos, and on the other end are Ariel and me (a.k.a. the anomaly of normal people). In order for the two ends to hang out, we must meet somewhere in the middle. This is good for the weirdos because they become more normal, but unfortunately, the normal people become more awkward.

I believe that there is another unfortunate spectrum in my life right now, which I like to call the Dumbness Scale. It is much like the Weirdness Spectrum, only it measures intelligence. I like to think that I am on the smarty pants side of the scale, but again, this may be disputed. Many of the people that I am around throughout my day are on the other side of the scale. There is the scheduling woman who isn't sure how to count. When Ariel pointed out her mistake, she replied,"Oooohhhh, it goes 1,2,3, not 2,3,1." Or there is the girl who forgot to wear a jacket the day after it snowed. "I just forgot to wear one," she explained to me in the freezing temperatures. And then there are the kids I spend my day with at school. "Teacher! Cold!" means The air conditioner is on too high. Would you please turn it off? Sometimes it's not just the language barrier that makes me crazy. I explain the exact same thing everyday in my writing class: how to write a four paragraph TOEFL essay. I have explained it different ways. I have shown them examples. I have made them practice. I have been doing this for months. Do you think that they write four paragraph essays? No, they don't. I say the same things over and over, and they never seem to get it.

So when I come home, I may have changed a bit. I may not be a sharp as I once was. I may stand awkwardly in a group of people, not knowing what to say. I may forget to use articles when I speak. I may over-explain everything. Hopefully, the effects will not be permanent.