Riddle Me Sexy

How is a hogwon like a brothel?

Too easy, I know: they both want to hire you for your body, not your knowledge or skills.

Actually I take it back. A brothel has more respect for the skills of its workers than a hogwon. This is a big reason why I am going home. At this point I would rather be a prostitute in upstate New York than an “English teacher” in South Korea.

I understand, I understand, it’s hard to convince someone that even though all you have is a bachelor’s degree, you have value and knowledge that can be shared. I mean, I did major in English, it’s a little baffling that a lot of schools here can’t distinguish between someone like me and the kind of knuckleheads who show up  on this island with no ability to construct a sentence other than declaring “Obama is a half-breed.” (true story alert-that’s a true story)

Anyway, maybe it’s time to get a degree in something so I can be an expert. Sometimes I feel like an expert even though I’m not. So if I get a master’s or a PHD, then I can feel like an expert even though I am. Or will be. This is a long time in the future. By the time I am an expert, Jeju island will either be underwater from sea level rising or destroyed when Halla awakens from its slumber. Maybe Dinosaur World Theme Park can be relocated to a different part of the world.

Some sad news on the weekend: it turns out I am not allowed back in Jane’s Groove dance club, now or ever. My working theory is that they are anti-semitic in there. Readers take note: “Jane”, if that’s her real name, hates Jews. Even in a country as tolerant as Korea, I’m just a killer of Christ.

What a negative post. Maybe it’s time for another happy list. I can’t do 100, here’s just five:

1. Apparently I told someone to go home with the ‘right’ person on Friday night, but I can’t remember anything. EDITORS NOTE: I was requested to omit some things so out they go.
2. The lamb curry at Bagdad’s Café is still delicious.
3. There’s a coffee shop with a grand piano nearby my soon-to-be-evacuated flat. I have been playing there, taking advantage of the workers’ reluctance to kick me off outright. They don’t want me playing, that’s for sure, they say the piano is for “adults” and “concert pianists only”, the former of which I am, the latter which doesn’t make any sense since it’s a tiny café not close to downtown. Who the fuck is playing concerts in this little café? This place seats about thirty people. I think this is either bullshit or just another weird cultural miscommunication. In any event, I’m sure their boss would not be happy if they knew they were letting me play so I am grateful for their generosity. Thank you, kind ladies of Ludwig’s café. Even though you don’t turn the music down from the loudspeaker when I am playing.
4. I have decided that I am not crazy. Ironically, I came to this conclusion when Jane of Jane’s Groove insisted that I WAS crazy. It’s amazing how uncrazy you feel when someone calls you crazy. I’m including this as a happy thing because usually being crazy is bad. Being eccentric and offbeat is good, but being crazy is a mental disorder. In fact, not only am I not crazy, I wish I was a little crazier. I wish I saw invisible people or talking trees or could speak in tongues. That would make my life more interesting, and would make me a more sympathetic person. Unfortunately, the only imaginary person who I ever created was my co-teacher “Brian”, and he was a nuisance.
5. Last night I played my first role-playing game, and it was a lot of fun. We were in “gangster London” and my character bungled a drug heist, killed a cop, and fell in love with a granny. Then I went to play poker and nobody was there waiting for me. I miss poker. Koreans should legalize poker, they would like, they would be good at it I think. There’s a lot of math involved. If I ever get another hogwon job, I will teach my students how to play poker, and how to lie and cheat at card games so they win. But I won’t teach them how to steal. Because stealing is wrong.