creative people are rarely pros

Lots and lots of people are creative when they feel like it, but you are only going to become a professional if you do it when you don’t feel like it. -Seth Godin

Too bad when I don’t feel like it but do it anyway is usually at school. Well done.


the bathroom stall

Every knows about the bathroom stall. There’s been one in your life. Whether it’s an actual stall or not, there is some place that you have taken refuge in. At school or work or even in your own home – you must have somewhere you can cry in and find some peace.

For me, this morning, it was a real bathroom stall, with “Teachers Only” on the door. The students can’t go there, so it stays relatively clean. And today, it provided a place to breathe for five minutes. A place to suck in the tears before they fell, turning my face into a beacon of “not okay.” A magnet for “are you okay?” and “what’s wrong?”

I don’t always need a bathroom stall. I live alone, fortunately, so usually I can recover with a blanket over my head for several hours. But today, for some reason, for many reasons, I needed to retreat into the bathroom stall.

I don’t want it to become a familiar place. I don’t want to have to seek it out. I would like to find peace and comfort somewhere better. Please…


in high school it’s like we adopt a character. we pick a stereotype and that is our entire self. as we haven’t had time to develop a real unique self, which must be a conglomeration of many types, we may put on and take off many different kinds, testing each to see how well we can slip into it.

like a guest in a strange wardrobe, we pick and choose until we find the combination we like, in the right size. for some people, it takes years. they squeeze and flounder until they find one that fits. for others, they don’t bother finding the perfect size, but choose the nearest thing to it, never really getting an authentic, unique self.

and for those special few, they put their hand right upon the perfect fit- they are so genuine, so brilliant, they shine and make waves wherever they are. they are flashing, blazing comets, burning out fast, falling to earth, to end up buried. cold.



that kind – red lips

I want to be the kind of person who brings darker lipstick to wear when she goes out for dinner with coworkers and friends.

That’s the life I want. It holds so much behind it – the having friends, the having a social life, the having enough confidence to dress up and go out, the having a desire to be seen and see others…things that I haven’t had before.

I want it.


Whenever I get dissatisfied, suffocated, overwhelmed, stressed out, or just plain bored, I have this thing I do. I call it displacement. I go out of dis place and over to dat place.

Mentally, anyway. I don’t mean I take a walk, although that would definitely be healthier and probably actually more helpful, but I start planning a life elsewhere.

Back in America, the other place was Korea (see the concrete room). I was so bogged down in preparing for this place that it completely took me away from the there and then I was in.

Now, after five months in Korea, things are starting to slow down, and I’m beginning to feel shirky. I want to shirk my duties here. Job is a job, not much social life (and whose fault is THAT, you idiot), and I feel like I need another kick in the pants to get things going.

So, thanks to a certain Youtube couple who shall remain nameless and who pretty much got me interested in Korea in the first place and have now moved to Japan…I want to go to Japan. Am I following them? Well, seems like it. It only takes me six years from when they go. Yay…there’s my life planned out, I guess.

Anyway, I just came down from a high of watching other people on Youtube talk about living in Japan, reading blogs about teaching there, and imagining how nice it would be to live in a place where night time is quiet. Ahhhh.

And then I remember subways so full there are people paid to push you in, and how expensive everything is, and how many alphabets there are, and how hot in the summer it is…and I sigh heavily and think I’ll stick it out for a least a couple years here before I move out of sheer antsiness. I should take care of that before moving again.

If only Murakami wasn’t so amazing…


the concrete room

When I was in university, back before I came to Korea, I thought of myself as being in a room made of concrete. Plain, solid, inescapable. There was one door in that room, and for me, it was Korea. My exit from that life was to move to Korea to teach.

It’s really interesting to look at that room from the outside. Because outside of that box-like room was another, bigger, box-like room. I do have more freedom now. More opportunities. More space to breathe.

But it’s still a box. I think it says “comfort zone” on it. I haven’t found a door yet. Maybe there isn’t one.

Everyone has a box, right? We are all trapped, to some extent, inside some box or another. Maybe we realize it, maybe not. I dare say some are bigger than others. I dare say some people will leave those rooms one day.

But for now, for me, I am inside this room.