He came back to me.
I don't know what to say. He came back to me.
Chris, the Korean man whom I met last spring and dated on and off throughout the year, came back to me. Chris, the man who broke up with me last summer in a heated and drunken argument, came back to me. Then we got back together when he didn't move to Canada as according to his plan. Only to discover that he was planning to move to Singapore after the new year. And he did.
I'm sitting in my kitchen deciphering his recent text message. Over the year that I've known him, we've folded a language exchange into our relationship. I help him improve his English, which is quite good by the way, and he teaches me how to speak Korean. This one says: 자기여 난운동했어^^ 이제집에가는중.. 저녁은? (Baby I worked out ^^ I'm on my way home.. what are you doing tonight?) I enjoy the language exchange aspect of our relationship. Learning Korean is kind of like cracking a code. It's not so difficult, really, because it's comprised of an alphabet of 30 characters. Memorize the 30 character code and you're in. So it's nothing like learning Chinese which has thousands of characters within its language. Korean characters are simple to write, although the grammar and sentence structure are difficult to grasp because they're completely different from English. Sometimes it's simple; house is 집, houses is still 집. At least I think so... maybe?
I'm sitting in my kitchen wondering... what am I doing? What am I doing? He lives in Singapore. I'm leaving Korea in six weeks time and moving to Boston. We will be on other sides of the world. It sounds crazy, right? The fact that he's my boyfriend. And he lives... on the other side of the world. What am I doing?
It's easy to text. Every day we send our manner messages to say good morning and good night. We keep in touch throughout the day with messages such as 자기뭐해? (What are you doing, honey?) And answers are always simple. I ate lunch. I will work out tonight. I'm on my way home. I miss you.
I miss you.
It's the same routine everyday. And I kid you not on the simplicity of our messages to each other. English and Korean are two very different languages. I think what brings us together is our kindness towards one other. I care about his feelings. I think that's important in any relationship.
So.. when will I see him again? I've already booked my plane ticket to visit Singapore at the end of June. Soon.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
The Acupuncturist and His Son
The legs of my sweatpants were thoroughly soaked from my knee downwards. My socks were soaked as well. The wetness had seeped through sneakers onto my socks. It was cold. It had been raining all day and I had been trudging through puddles to meet Kiki. She's a lovely girl whom you would adore because she's Italian and never stops smiling. Kiki is fluent in many languages, including Korean, so I was fortunate that she was accompanying me to visit the acupuncturist one rainy night. She knew better enough to own a pair of rain boots.
We rode the bus together from Nowongu to Suyu, trudged through more puddles, and stopped for a cigarette just before reaching the home of the acupuncturist. "He's a good man. A Christian. Don't smoke in front of him," she smiled as we inhaled. Then she dialed his son. "He has a son. He's single and wants to marry you!" She said his English name was Andrew. I was looking forward to meeting him, but was a little concerned about the wetness of my attire, which was clearly an inappropriate choice given the weather that evening.
Moments later, we opened a large metal gate and walked along a concrete patio. Bags of onion and garlic loitered against potted plants. I reached down to roll up my pant legs. This man was about to give me acupuncture for free, and I didn't want to spoil his floors of furnishings of their fine home. Much larger than the average apartment.
Kiki and I took off our shoes and stepped across to the living room area. My socks were moist. "Anyounghasayoh," Kiki said.
"Anyoungasayoh," I repeated. Everyone laughed.
"You just said goodbye to them!" Kiki exclaimed. Warm smiles greeted me. Sitting in cozy leather chairs were an older man and woman, whom I assumed to be the acupuncturist and his wife. Fortunately, they didn't seem to mind my communication blunder. Saying "hello" and "good-bye" in Korean are very similar, so as to forget one syllable changes the entire meaning. There are worse things it could have translated into.
Then Andrew appeared through the door. His hair was puffy and looked like a perm that was half done growing out. He wore a gold watch that was slightly bigger than the width of his wrist. Bling bling! A matching gold chain around his neck. He sat next to me and smiled. It was all we could do.
The acupuncturist rose from his chair and returned a few minutes later with a small red case. Curiously, I watched him lift the lid and stared at the arrangement of needles that lay inside. He pressed my ankle with his thumb and forefinger. I winced at the pain that three months of consecutive daily practices had impacted the ankle in such a selfish way. The acupuncturist pressed the tender spot again.
As I saw him reach for the first needle, I turned my attention to a the television. A soap opera was on. There was a woman in a car and another woman running after her, screaming. Looking for something calm and a bit positive, I turned to Andrew and asked him how he was doing. I had barely said the word "doing" when my eyes bugged out and my jaw dropped open. It was the most incredibly strange sensation I've felt. A needle had been inserted into my flesh and then flicked by the finger of a 50-something year old Korean doctor. I imagine this is how a shish kabob must feel upon being skewered. Three more times I bit my lip and braced myself against the side of the leather chair. I was thinking it would all be worth it after the pain dissipated the ankle and I could return to daily practices. Because after one night away from the team, I was beginning to miss his Colgate smile already.
I know I've said it before, my spin teacher really is one of the sexiest men alive! His kind manners, strong physique, and laid-back attitude attract me like peanut butter to jelly. I just have to have it.
The acupuncturist carefully lifted my foot from the coffee table to the heated floor. It sat there for nearly half an hour. It felt like an eternity because when four sharp needles have been inserted through your skin, you are afraid to move a muscle. It's not like I didn't want to. The heat was turned on so high that I felt like my foot was a shish kabob on open flames. My skin turned from pale pink to fuschia. I'm fair skinned by nature, and that's the luck of the Irish, but even Andrew had to gesture and comment on my foot's skin tone. "God I hope this is normal," was all I could think. He took the needles out and it bled a little, but Kiki translated and mentioned that was normal. The ankle got wrapped up and we were headed out with Andrew for some tea.
Kiki handed the acupuncturist and his family a bag which contained a fancy cake. "Anyoungasayo." I said goodbye for real this time.
We rode the bus together from Nowongu to Suyu, trudged through more puddles, and stopped for a cigarette just before reaching the home of the acupuncturist. "He's a good man. A Christian. Don't smoke in front of him," she smiled as we inhaled. Then she dialed his son. "He has a son. He's single and wants to marry you!" She said his English name was Andrew. I was looking forward to meeting him, but was a little concerned about the wetness of my attire, which was clearly an inappropriate choice given the weather that evening.
Moments later, we opened a large metal gate and walked along a concrete patio. Bags of onion and garlic loitered against potted plants. I reached down to roll up my pant legs. This man was about to give me acupuncture for free, and I didn't want to spoil his floors of furnishings of their fine home. Much larger than the average apartment.
Kiki and I took off our shoes and stepped across to the living room area. My socks were moist. "Anyounghasayoh," Kiki said.
"Anyoungasayoh," I repeated. Everyone laughed.
"You just said goodbye to them!" Kiki exclaimed. Warm smiles greeted me. Sitting in cozy leather chairs were an older man and woman, whom I assumed to be the acupuncturist and his wife. Fortunately, they didn't seem to mind my communication blunder. Saying "hello" and "good-bye" in Korean are very similar, so as to forget one syllable changes the entire meaning. There are worse things it could have translated into.
Then Andrew appeared through the door. His hair was puffy and looked like a perm that was half done growing out. He wore a gold watch that was slightly bigger than the width of his wrist. Bling bling! A matching gold chain around his neck. He sat next to me and smiled. It was all we could do.
The acupuncturist rose from his chair and returned a few minutes later with a small red case. Curiously, I watched him lift the lid and stared at the arrangement of needles that lay inside. He pressed my ankle with his thumb and forefinger. I winced at the pain that three months of consecutive daily practices had impacted the ankle in such a selfish way. The acupuncturist pressed the tender spot again.
As I saw him reach for the first needle, I turned my attention to a the television. A soap opera was on. There was a woman in a car and another woman running after her, screaming. Looking for something calm and a bit positive, I turned to Andrew and asked him how he was doing. I had barely said the word "doing" when my eyes bugged out and my jaw dropped open. It was the most incredibly strange sensation I've felt. A needle had been inserted into my flesh and then flicked by the finger of a 50-something year old Korean doctor. I imagine this is how a shish kabob must feel upon being skewered. Three more times I bit my lip and braced myself against the side of the leather chair. I was thinking it would all be worth it after the pain dissipated the ankle and I could return to daily practices. Because after one night away from the team, I was beginning to miss his Colgate smile already.
I know I've said it before, my spin teacher really is one of the sexiest men alive! His kind manners, strong physique, and laid-back attitude attract me like peanut butter to jelly. I just have to have it.
The acupuncturist carefully lifted my foot from the coffee table to the heated floor. It sat there for nearly half an hour. It felt like an eternity because when four sharp needles have been inserted through your skin, you are afraid to move a muscle. It's not like I didn't want to. The heat was turned on so high that I felt like my foot was a shish kabob on open flames. My skin turned from pale pink to fuschia. I'm fair skinned by nature, and that's the luck of the Irish, but even Andrew had to gesture and comment on my foot's skin tone. "God I hope this is normal," was all I could think. He took the needles out and it bled a little, but Kiki translated and mentioned that was normal. The ankle got wrapped up and we were headed out with Andrew for some tea.
Kiki handed the acupuncturist and his family a bag which contained a fancy cake. "Anyoungasayo." I said goodbye for real this time.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Wave
It was nearly 11:30pm on Thursday night as we hauled eight spinning bikes from the mirror-walled dance room into the humid pool area. There would have been nine bikes, if one of the team members hadn't been unable to attend the daily practice. I carefully pushed my bike and tiptoed across the soggy tiled floor. Paula's words echoed in my mind. "You'll break your neck," she said to me one night as I playfully glided across the wet floor from the dance room to the locker area. One by one we each pushed our bike onto the indoor pool deck.
It was too late for anyone to be swimming. The gym was about to close for the night. There was a blue colored hose dripping chlorine into the vacant pool. Sung Jin took one end of the cumbersome bike and lifted it over the hose. "Jump," he said. I giggled. His tall and muscular physique were easy on my eyes and he had one of those smiles that belonged in a Colgate commercial. He's my spinning teacher. Spinning is a sport that I never heard of before I came to Korea. I had seen the stationary bikes at the gym before, but had no idea that there was actual technique to riding the things and it requires using most of the muscles in your body including shoulders, chest, arms, thighs, and calves. It's a total body workout. In Korea it's combined with loud, fast dance music. Hand motions and head flicking under colorful blinking lights makes it a rather enjoyable form of exercise.
I pushed the bike into its position, which was the third bike on the left from the middle of the V formation. Sung Jin was setting up the tripod across the other end of the pool and attaching a video camera. There's no mirrors, so I couldn't glance up and copy the synchronized moves of the dance team. I had to know it. Sung Jin asked me, "Do you know it?" He said we must memorize the dance moves. I checked the handlebars and adjusted the seat level to its lowest position. I placed my feet on the pedals and tightened the foot straps. Standing with my left foot forward and straightening my arms, I braced myself on the bike. The music started and filled the room with an infectious echo.
Ba... ba.. ba.. bum ba ba.. ba.. ba.. bum. Here we go. The first minute of the routine was flawless and I felt confident. I remembered his advice, "Make your head like a U shape." There's one bit in the song when we turn our head from side to side. I remembered his advice and swung my head in a pendulum motion. Ba... ba.. ba.. bum ba ba.. ba.. ba.. bum. Up dool set net. Down dool set net. It's all I could hear in my mind as I danced on the bike. All I could hear was Sung Jin's commands, counting in Korean and using few English words like "up, down." And the voices of the Korean ladies at practice chanting, "Ba... ba.. ba.. bum ba ba.. ba.. ba.. bum."
Up dool set net. Down dool set net.
Ba... ba.. ba.. bum ba ba.. ba.. ba.. bum.
Up dool set net. Down dool set net.
Ba... ba.. ba.. bum ba ba.. ba.. ba.. bum.
Up dool set net. Down dool set net.
Ba... ba.. ba.. bum ba ba.. ba.. ba.. bum.
Up dool set net. Down dool set net.
Ba... ba.. ba.. bum ba ba.. ba.. ba.. bum.
I was still feeling pretty confident when the routine hit the second song. I threw my arm to the side on the beat and wiggled my spirit fingers. It was time to wave. It's difficult to describe and I wish I could show you, except I haven't been able to do it yet. If you trace a loop the loop shape in the air with your finger, that is what we have to do. Trace a loop the loop with in the air with your finger and imagine your head making the same shape to the left and then to the right. There's some bit with the shoulders too. Still working on that one.
Up dool set net. Down dool set net.
Ba... ba.. ba.. bum ba.. ba.. ba.. bum.
Oh dear God, I prayed. I had to do it. Ok. Ready? Ok. It's coming. Ok. Now.To... the... left... to... the... right. There's something about having a camera on you that raises the pressure and makes the body do funny things. It was just a practice video, but for the first time I was able to wave.
It was too late for anyone to be swimming. The gym was about to close for the night. There was a blue colored hose dripping chlorine into the vacant pool. Sung Jin took one end of the cumbersome bike and lifted it over the hose. "Jump," he said. I giggled. His tall and muscular physique were easy on my eyes and he had one of those smiles that belonged in a Colgate commercial. He's my spinning teacher. Spinning is a sport that I never heard of before I came to Korea. I had seen the stationary bikes at the gym before, but had no idea that there was actual technique to riding the things and it requires using most of the muscles in your body including shoulders, chest, arms, thighs, and calves. It's a total body workout. In Korea it's combined with loud, fast dance music. Hand motions and head flicking under colorful blinking lights makes it a rather enjoyable form of exercise.
I pushed the bike into its position, which was the third bike on the left from the middle of the V formation. Sung Jin was setting up the tripod across the other end of the pool and attaching a video camera. There's no mirrors, so I couldn't glance up and copy the synchronized moves of the dance team. I had to know it. Sung Jin asked me, "Do you know it?" He said we must memorize the dance moves. I checked the handlebars and adjusted the seat level to its lowest position. I placed my feet on the pedals and tightened the foot straps. Standing with my left foot forward and straightening my arms, I braced myself on the bike. The music started and filled the room with an infectious echo.
Ba... ba.. ba.. bum ba ba.. ba.. ba.. bum. Here we go. The first minute of the routine was flawless and I felt confident. I remembered his advice, "Make your head like a U shape." There's one bit in the song when we turn our head from side to side. I remembered his advice and swung my head in a pendulum motion. Ba... ba.. ba.. bum ba ba.. ba.. ba.. bum. Up dool set net. Down dool set net. It's all I could hear in my mind as I danced on the bike. All I could hear was Sung Jin's commands, counting in Korean and using few English words like "up, down." And the voices of the Korean ladies at practice chanting, "Ba... ba.. ba.. bum ba ba.. ba.. ba.. bum."
Up dool set net. Down dool set net.
Ba... ba.. ba.. bum ba ba.. ba.. ba.. bum.
Up dool set net. Down dool set net.
Ba... ba.. ba.. bum ba ba.. ba.. ba.. bum.
Up dool set net. Down dool set net.
Ba... ba.. ba.. bum ba ba.. ba.. ba.. bum.
Up dool set net. Down dool set net.
Ba... ba.. ba.. bum ba ba.. ba.. ba.. bum.
I was still feeling pretty confident when the routine hit the second song. I threw my arm to the side on the beat and wiggled my spirit fingers. It was time to wave. It's difficult to describe and I wish I could show you, except I haven't been able to do it yet. If you trace a loop the loop shape in the air with your finger, that is what we have to do. Trace a loop the loop with in the air with your finger and imagine your head making the same shape to the left and then to the right. There's some bit with the shoulders too. Still working on that one.
Up dool set net. Down dool set net.
Ba... ba.. ba.. bum ba.. ba.. ba.. bum.
Oh dear God, I prayed. I had to do it. Ok. Ready? Ok. It's coming. Ok. Now.To... the... left... to... the... right. There's something about having a camera on you that raises the pressure and makes the body do funny things. It was just a practice video, but for the first time I was able to wave.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Meeting Park Junkuk
His name is Park Junkuk. You can call him Chris as he prefers English. We met at an international party located in the middle of downtown Seoul. I remember walking into the large room and feeling overwhelmed by the number of people who attended. Following my friends, I placed my bag onto the bench cushion and sat down. On the table were two large pitchers of beer, five bottles of soju, and a tray of yummy snacks. I began to pour myself a beer, when my Korean friend reached over, smiled, and filled my glass for me (as is the Korean custom to allow your friends to pour your drink). With each sip I began to relax and noticed the bright ambiance of color. Good beer, good friends.
Then I noticed him. He was sitting at the table next to mine, wearing a blueish t-shirt with yellow lettering, 'Heritage.' He had a strong jaw, thick black hair, and sharp eyes. He looked very calm. By this time, everyone at the table was playing a game of gung gung chil (007, as in James Bond). It's pretty fun to play while drinking, especially when in the good company of Koreans. How you play is this. You start by sitting in a circle or around a table with your friends. You point your finger at a friend and say, "Gung." Then, they point their finger at a new friend and say, "Gung." The third person points at another friend and says, "Chil." The last person points their finger at someone else and says, "Bang." But here's the catch... the friends sitting next to this person have to hold up their hands like a stick 'em up. The slower person takes a drink, and if the person who was pointed at raises their hands by accident, well, they take a drink too. It's supposed to go very fast and so your reflexes have to be strong.
So later on at the event, I was mingling around the floor. Then, I saw him. At that time I didn't know who he was, but I thought I would smile at him to see what would happen. After all, I couldn't just assume he spoke English because he was at the international party. I'd met plenty of goers who have limited speaking abilities when it comes to English. Ok, so I walked up to him and smiled. He read my name tag, "Amanda?" Good. "Ohhh, hi," I believe were my exact words.
The rest of the evening is a bit of a blur, but we followed each other around from spot to spot in the company of our friends. Seoul is a city that never sleeps. Restaurants and bars stay open until the break of dawn. We were sitting down at a small restaurant and ordering bowls of spicy noodles. He passed me a set of chopsticks. I was hypnotized as I watched the long, curly noodles slide from the bowl to his mouth in long, smooth slurps. Over a bowl of noodles in a cozy corner, we decided it was time to go home. It was nearly 6 am. I said, "Nice meeting you," and followed my friends to the taxi. I sat near the window and peered through it to catch of glimpse of that kind and handsome man called Chris. I watched him walk towards to subway train. His brown messenger bag was slung over his back. His strong muscles filled out his snug t-shirt. Will I ever see you again? I wonder.
Two days passed. I remember I was walking home from a day of shopping and had just exited the subway. My phone started to ring and I didn't recognize the number on the caller ID, but somehow I knew it was Chris calling.
"Hello?" I smiled.
"Amanda? Do you know who is this?" I could hear him smiling.
"Yesssss." I did.
"Who is this?" He wanted to make sure.
"It's Chris, I think."
"Wow. You remember that. Did you have good day?"
"Yesssss, I went shopping. I bought some new shoes. It was very fun." Just ask me.
"That's good. Good. So, you want have dinner with me?" I could still hear his smile.
"Yesssss." Yesssss. Yessssss.
"Good. Next weekend? I call you back. Have good night."
"Sounds good. Have a good night," I was too thrilled to know I would be seeing him again.
Then I noticed him. He was sitting at the table next to mine, wearing a blueish t-shirt with yellow lettering, 'Heritage.' He had a strong jaw, thick black hair, and sharp eyes. He looked very calm. By this time, everyone at the table was playing a game of gung gung chil (007, as in James Bond). It's pretty fun to play while drinking, especially when in the good company of Koreans. How you play is this. You start by sitting in a circle or around a table with your friends. You point your finger at a friend and say, "Gung." Then, they point their finger at a new friend and say, "Gung." The third person points at another friend and says, "Chil." The last person points their finger at someone else and says, "Bang." But here's the catch... the friends sitting next to this person have to hold up their hands like a stick 'em up. The slower person takes a drink, and if the person who was pointed at raises their hands by accident, well, they take a drink too. It's supposed to go very fast and so your reflexes have to be strong.
So later on at the event, I was mingling around the floor. Then, I saw him. At that time I didn't know who he was, but I thought I would smile at him to see what would happen. After all, I couldn't just assume he spoke English because he was at the international party. I'd met plenty of goers who have limited speaking abilities when it comes to English. Ok, so I walked up to him and smiled. He read my name tag, "Amanda?" Good. "Ohhh, hi," I believe were my exact words.
The rest of the evening is a bit of a blur, but we followed each other around from spot to spot in the company of our friends. Seoul is a city that never sleeps. Restaurants and bars stay open until the break of dawn. We were sitting down at a small restaurant and ordering bowls of spicy noodles. He passed me a set of chopsticks. I was hypnotized as I watched the long, curly noodles slide from the bowl to his mouth in long, smooth slurps. Over a bowl of noodles in a cozy corner, we decided it was time to go home. It was nearly 6 am. I said, "Nice meeting you," and followed my friends to the taxi. I sat near the window and peered through it to catch of glimpse of that kind and handsome man called Chris. I watched him walk towards to subway train. His brown messenger bag was slung over his back. His strong muscles filled out his snug t-shirt. Will I ever see you again? I wonder.
Two days passed. I remember I was walking home from a day of shopping and had just exited the subway. My phone started to ring and I didn't recognize the number on the caller ID, but somehow I knew it was Chris calling.
"Hello?" I smiled.
"Amanda? Do you know who is this?" I could hear him smiling.
"Yesssss." I did.
"Who is this?" He wanted to make sure.
"It's Chris, I think."
"Wow. You remember that. Did you have good day?"
"Yesssss, I went shopping. I bought some new shoes. It was very fun." Just ask me.
"That's good. Good. So, you want have dinner with me?" I could still hear his smile.
"Yesssss." Yesssss. Yessssss.
"Good. Next weekend? I call you back. Have good night."
"Sounds good. Have a good night," I was too thrilled to know I would be seeing him again.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Dister
Elly was a curious eight-year-old Korean girl, one of the brightest in my Kindergarten class. (Remember that these students are exceptionally bright. I think gifted and talented is the proper term, but I like to refer to my students as baby geniuses.) She was reading a storybook with one of her classmates, another extremely bright little boy whom we call Daniel. Daniel loves stag beetles and he once told me that some day he wants to be an entomologist. He actually said the word "entomologist," and I knew this was 'a scientist who studies insects' because in my spare time I was studying vocabulary words in preparation for a graduate school entrance exam. Elly and Daniel were reading a storybook. I can't remember the title, but that doesn't matter.
Pigtails dangled from either sides of her head as she confidently raised her hand to ask me, "Teacher, what is a dister?"
"Dister? That's not a word. Show me the story," I replied. I was convinced she had to be pronouncing the word incorrectly, which is unusual for Elly because she reads at a fifth grader's level. Last week she brought in the new Harry Potter book for show and tell when she summarized the plot to her classmates.
Instead of bringing the storybook to me, Elly spelled "dister."
"It says, D, R, period."
Doctor. Let's not forget that Dr. and Mr. are rhyming words.
Pigtails dangled from either sides of her head as she confidently raised her hand to ask me, "Teacher, what is a dister?"
"Dister? That's not a word. Show me the story," I replied. I was convinced she had to be pronouncing the word incorrectly, which is unusual for Elly because she reads at a fifth grader's level. Last week she brought in the new Harry Potter book for show and tell when she summarized the plot to her classmates.
Instead of bringing the storybook to me, Elly spelled "dister."
"It says, D, R, period."
Doctor. Let's not forget that Dr. and Mr. are rhyming words.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
What would you do?
Who are you? You're an English teacher living in Seoul, Korea. In mornings you teach extremely intelligent seven-year-olds meanings of words like "imply" and "consider." They understand because they spend their entire day studying. They also bring you presents such as Puma socks, vitamin C, Spam, and Bvlgari perfume, so naturally you smell amazing and you're healthy. By night you ride a spin bike under disco lights, trying to wave your head to Kpop. The wave is difficult to describe. I'd like to show you, but I can't do it. Imagine moving your head in a half circle to the left, and then to the right. Oh, but you have to make it look natural. So your shoulder should move a bit too. You're trying to wave your head because you're training for a competition. You'll be dancing in sync with a group of 8 Korean women while you all ride bikes. You'll be ready. There's still two months of practice left.
The Situation: You want to go back to school and you've applied to a variety of graduate programs to pursue your dream job. You check your email twice an hour, waiting for something. There are messages from graduate schools across the States notifying you of your admission status. Interviews are to be had at two schools. Another school is pressuring your to notify them by next week if you will be attending their program. Mixed in the pile are egreetings and love notes from your Indian boyfriend. He's tall, dark, handsome, and charismatic. He calls you three times a day, and he's already asked you to marry him. He wants you to move to India so he can buy a house on the beach for the two of you to live there forever.
The Problem: You don't know whether to choose your career, or love.
I've always considered myself highly capable of making a decision. Do I want to drink tea or coffee? Coffee in the morning, tea in the afternoon. Do I want to purchase Identity Theft Protection for my Discover card? I just lost my card. Yes, I would. Would you like to marry your very handsome and charismatic Indian boyfriend or attend graduate school and pursue your career..... Pause.
The Situation: You want to go back to school and you've applied to a variety of graduate programs to pursue your dream job. You check your email twice an hour, waiting for something. There are messages from graduate schools across the States notifying you of your admission status. Interviews are to be had at two schools. Another school is pressuring your to notify them by next week if you will be attending their program. Mixed in the pile are egreetings and love notes from your Indian boyfriend. He's tall, dark, handsome, and charismatic. He calls you three times a day, and he's already asked you to marry him. He wants you to move to India so he can buy a house on the beach for the two of you to live there forever.
The Problem: You don't know whether to choose your career, or love.
I've always considered myself highly capable of making a decision. Do I want to drink tea or coffee? Coffee in the morning, tea in the afternoon. Do I want to purchase Identity Theft Protection for my Discover card? I just lost my card. Yes, I would. Would you like to marry your very handsome and charismatic Indian boyfriend or attend graduate school and pursue your career..... Pause.
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