Emo

First date in months and months. I'm kind of bummed now. It went pretty well. I had a good time. I think she had a good time too. I was happy, because I'd gone on a date; its nice to like someone; its nice to be liked; its nice to drink coffee with someone and talk; its nice to hold hands and walk and kiss goodnight. But I'm bummed because I like the girl. And she's moving to Holland in a week. She said I should come visit her, and propose. She said she'd pay me a billion won to brush her teeth. She said she wasn't mean, but she was evil. I like her. I can't be sorry I met Seungmin, but it's one of those things in life where you just have to take the bad with the good. Turns out, that's pretty much life in its entirety. This moment was just better and worse than most of the others.

Being Alive

So I have now been in Daegu for two weeks. It is very strange that this is true. It seems very short. I feel like I've been here forever and not at all. Some of the basics are starting to come more naturally. Example: I go grocery shopping and prepare food for my ingestion at regular intervals. I still don't know what the fuck is going on most of the time, however.

But really, that isn't a huge change.

I have met many cool foreigners. I want to make Korean friends who will take me to Korean restaurants and things. (I love the food but don't know how to order.) But anyway, I am a shy man at heart and always will be really. I hope I will make a few though.

The foreign teachers all fit together well more or less, and with good reason. We are mostly intelligent white people who couldn't find jobs in our western nations. We are university graduates, which presupposes a certain economic status as well as mental ability. We are, on some level, adventurous. (Personally, this is where I have the least in common with the others, haha.) So it is a cool bunch on the whole. A lot of girls, which I don't mind, haha.

I tend to dress over formally for class. I wear ties most days and there is a lot of tucked in button down shirt happening. I sort of do it to try and remind myself what I'm doing. When I get tired I revert more to a standard Sean who doesn't know what to do. But I think it is a good plan overall.

I don't get lost anymore. I even stumbled home drunk and unhappy without a problem. Somehow picked out a landmark through the tangle of the downtown streets and managed to get out safely. I went to a large club with two of my coworkers. I consistently forget that I even get upset at the Loop when it is busy haha.

I've only ever had a good time dancing when I go with my current girlfriend, or at least someone who is going to dance with me. I don't think I will ever be a picking up sort of boy, or even one who can find a random dance partner easily. It just isn't my way. I like talking and getting to know people, and not having to try and suddenly impress them on the spot in order to seem worthwhile. Anyway, as usually happens on these occasions, I begin to stare into space unhappily, looking much more drunk than I am, (although I am pretty drunk.) I then stumble home drunk quite unhappily.

The thing is I really like dancing. Just not clubbing. I love it. But god damn, I want enough space to practice my own personal style of dancing. And I want someone pretty to do it with. And I want them to see me and dig it, haha. So I'm pretty fussy.

And none of this really tells anyone anything about Korea. Except that there are many people here and they have large crowded dance clubs that I probably will never be into.

The trouble is there is so much westernization that things seem pretty familiar. You have to be pretty on top of things to figure out why everything is actually upside down haha. At least when you are writing a blog entry when you should be sleeping. I think I will go sleep now.

Finding Daegu

As my fictitional (I have used it inadvertently three times, so it's real now) journey comes to a close, a real one sort of starts moving. I fly out of Toronto in less than 8 hours now. Shortly enough I will set off to the airport to check baggage.

Strangely my anxiety is at a calm and stable 3 out of 10 or so. I don't know if I am maturing or insane or what. I was nervous about my interview with the Korean Consul yesterday, but that went well. Actually I think it's the only interview I've ever had that went well by my definition of well. That practice interview I had in therapy last March was a terror in comparison. Actually that practice interview was probably the worst interview I've ever had. But it wasn't real, so yay.

I have never flown before. Some people don't like it. I don't like how air travel has obliterated distance. But as a thing to do I am not worried about it. Worst case, I live out the plot of Castaway. So you know. I can do that. Sometimes I've felt a bit like that anyway. Just chillin' out alone, talkin' to my volley ball. Should I kill myself? Naaaw, too messy. I mean, I always did want to build a raft.

Actually, packing itself is more anxiety provoking than the idea of flying. But I even got through that. To some English teachers starting Korean teaching jobs it's probably just another in a string of self assured meanderings through the world. They did Europe, they did... another place, so now they will do Korea. For me it's been a bit of an all or nothing gesture of defiance to the world. Yes, I am introverted, anxiety ridden, socially awkward, shy, miserable most of the time, but damn you world, I am going to do a thing! I can't make a relationship work, but maybe I should stop fretting and take care of some other business first.

I don't know if this do or die gambling perspective is a bit of masculinity. Honestly, I've felt at times that if I didn't succeed and get a job and get a visa and get out of Southern Ontario I would kill myself. Probably before Christmas. So now it seems I won't have to. I don't know if I would have. It was a possibility though. So yeah. Coming of age, bitches. Making mountains out of fucking mole hills and then climbing them! That is what it's about. I hope.

Fourty-Eight

Fourty-Seven

Fourty-Six

Fourty-Five

Fourty-Four

Fourty-Three

Forty-Two

Forty-One

Forty

Finding Anima

Thirty-Nine

Thirty-Eight

Thirty-Seven

Thirty-Six

Thirty-Five

Thirty-Four

Thirty-Three

Thirty-Two

Thirty-One

Thirty

Twenty-Nine

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Two

Twenty-One

Twenty

Nineteen

Creepy Silhouette Men

I woke a bit earlier than usual this morning, 7:15 or so. I looked across my room at my door and was unhappy to be confronted with a creepy apparition: it seemed that leaning against my door was one of those black painted wooden silhouette figures, a cowboy in fact (something I unfailingly associate with flea markets, a phenomenon I know next to nothing about). Anyway, I was creeped the fuck out, hid my face in a pillow and hoped he would leave. As phantasmagoria was replaced by consciousness I realized bit by bit that the figure was in fact my black robe (or dressing gown, as British period films would have it) hanging on its normal peg on my door. The shape was still remarkably like that of a creepy black wooden cow boy man.

As the minutes passed he seemed to shift a bit and the sense of being watched diminished. I seem to recall going through some elaborate dream sequence in my semi-conscious state, explaining who the fellow was, why he was chilling out in my corner, and what I had done to deserve such a thing. As those things so often are, the explanation was lost, just sort evaporated by the time I came to myself. I thought of making a comic about it, but was confronted with "how the hell do you make a comic about that?" so I remembered the other function of my blog, blogging. I no longer trust my robe, and I have never trusted flea markets, or people who think its a good idea to have a black painted wooden silhouette of a cowboy in any way associated with them, but at least it is all over now.

Eighteen

Sean: Is that a word?

Anima: Why not, it seems to mean.

Sean: Haha, you're cute. But ser's'ly, you have been

My only hope somedays. But now I see

More evidence of you outside of me.

Seventeen

Sixteen

Fifteen

Fourteen

Thirteen

Meadowlarks

A night of slightly strange coincidence. As I stepped out of my side door around 9:30 for a stroll I pressed play on my iPod. Just as the opening strains of Fleet Foxes' Meadowlarks started in my ears I turned to see a lovely crescent moon; there are moments I wish that I had a recording device for my brain; my lame attempt at a muse blog really can't translate this experience to anyone, but I hope I can hint at it. It wasn't particularly spectacular. But it made me smile widely and start off walking at a brisk pace, glancing over my left shoulder at the moon every few moments like I was walking beside a new lover.

I turned when I could to follow the moon west. The air is warm and not as humid as it has been, and the peaceful lamplit streets here are as fine a lone walk in this city as any. Another strange moment: coming along an empty street my mind drifted to recent events in my life; a package containing my credentials has been sent out today by fast flying machine to the other side of the world, there to be received by foreign men who wish me to teach at their school. I am afraid to leave home, and am afraid to do things, so I am grateful that an intervening weekend will allow me a few days of forgetfulness before I am required to set more wheels in motion. As this thought crossed my mind I had that wash of awareness some call deja vu. I experience it fairly often, and always make a note of it. The relief two days brings me was amplified, extended to infinity as it were between two parallel mirrors. I felt certain for a few seconds that I was experiencing what I hesitantly name synchronicity: I don't actually know what synchronicity is, but I felt like all moments in time were that moment, and I almost dared to ask myself what will become of me, where I will be in the end, and more personal, selfish, and specific questions. I didn't quite get the answers I'm afraid. Well, I may have caught a glimpse of them, but it remains to be seen. Anyway, as I reached the end of the block the spell was broken. I was just walking down a street again. I can't say deja vu has ever quite made me feel this way, but I generally do have a large smile plastered on my face, and this case was no exception.

I walked to a local park that once was a test track for an automotive company. As I passed the fence and mounted the track a whiz of wheels and muscle could be sensed approaching. I girl of about my own age or a bit younger was using the track to roller blade. A bit at a loss I stood still waiting for her to pass, having given up on the internal debate of whether I could get across the track before she collided with me. As she passed we smiled at eachother. And all I could really think was "I will never see her again." Life presented me this one chance to collide with a girl on roller blades, and I have passed on it. I wasn't very regretful, don't take that away from this. But it reinforced the notion that everything only ever happens once. And of course, the great mystery is that I may very well meet the girl again. Perhaps nocturnally at a track, or somewhere else. But it will never be this time again.

The demon I wrestle with myself, the hope that I could one day reclaim what I lost so quickly once, never really is put to rest. Which blows. But I don't really want to kill my demon, frankly. And so he bites me, and I strangle him. It is an unhealthy relationship.

Twelve

Eleven

Briggs and Ladders

So here is the title page used for this "webcomic" on Bookface. Briggs and Ladders, a delightful game of chance, featuring Ezekiel's Angel! Sean lazes about with coffee not realizing that he leans upon an oversized titular letter! Isabel Briggs Myers has discovered a ladder! Where does it lead? Perhaps heaven? Or maybe right to where she began. All of these questions and more will be answered in time, possibly.

Binge

So, four days of this now. Ten comics produced; more rattling around in my insides. I thought I would like to produce in bulk at first, so that, should anyone like to read them, they will have a little selection. I personally love to binge-read 20 or 30 webcomics in a sitting. Soon it will come to a point where I really need to try and promote this or something. To quote one of my fav authors "art, like sex, can only be carried on solo for so long."

I made some sort of Bookface group for it now. The pictures actually show up better in that medium presently; I need to learn to manipulate Blogger more cleverly. The comic is now temporarily named "Briggs and Ladders." Snakes and Ladders + Myers-Briggs if you're interested. I wanted to call it INTP, but then I realized that I would be ripping off XKCD soooo hard. If I could do better art than this, then by god, I might do it (if it didn't take too much effort, that is). But this is what the world gets. And I think I will bring a more intuitive insight on the psyche, religion, and things ethereal than XKCD. That comic is brilliant, but very firmly rooted in what I term "dull fantsy pantsy rationalisim," at least on some level. Not that that's all bad, but I think that the extroverted, objective and the rational people only have half of the picture. We all blunder through life in a haze of subjectivity afterall.

Ten

Nine

Eight

Seven

Six

Five

Four

Three

Two