One hundred and seventy-five

Perhaps you wonder sometimes, "how Kyle unwinds after a hard day at work?"  You wonder "how is Kyle fulfilling himself spiritually?"  You wonder "how much time does Kyle waste?  A normal amount, or an especially aggregious amount?"

Let me let you in my friends, to my process.

Do you recognize these?  What did you learn when you had to glue twenty-five strips of paper together in the second grade?  I hope you didn't just rip one every day until Christmas and then forget about it.  Hanging on my ceiling are, or I should say were a hundred and seventy-five circles.  I made them out of used handouts from school and I didn't cut any of the paper, but folded the A4 sheets into thirds and then licked the crease to break down the fiberous bonds in the paper and tore them free hand.  They are the amount of days until February 28th, which is when my contract ends.  I don't know what will happen after that, but every day until then I will rip a circle and write something about my day on it and then paste it into a book. 

I used green duct tape on every 9th or tenth ring to hold it all up.  When I pull the green tape off it takes a little piece of my ceiling off, which isn't great, but I'm not worried.  These are some of my days, and I don't know what that means any more than you do but this is how I like to look at them. 

It's currently Chusok, which is Korea's Thanksgiving, which is about their biggest holiday, which means I'm off all this week and hence I am leaving tomorrow for a vacation. 

Wish me good weather.  I'll be in a tent.

The left side is my strong side

Over the summer I grew back my two-thirds indy one-third patchy beard that I hope is a trademark but is probably a social liability.  Facial hair is not well regarded in Korea.  I am simultaniously mounting a small campaign of defiance and submitting to my own slovenliness and it's all happening on my face.  I have passed it off to the teachers at my school as an authentic piece of Canadian culture that runs from nose to neck. 

When the girls hold invisible razors and scrape them down their faces I agree with them that yes, they do need to shave.  When the scream in protest I walk away and pretend I don't hear them. Being the adult means I get to choose when to act like one.  When the boys call me 'Kyle Beckham' I don't let it go to my head because they call any picture of a black man 'Obama'.  When I need to trim it for teacher picture day, I tell you about it first.