Wednesday night in taekwondo class I did finally cry. “가고 싶어요. 가고 싶지 읺아요. 반반씩.” I want to go. I won’t want to go. Half and half. I said, “In Korea, I’ve had three jobs, one taekwondo studio, one taekwondo family. And one boyfriend. But boyfriend is going with.”
Master nodded, understandingly, and said we had email and Cyworld.
“I know,” I said, “But it’s not the same.”
Meanwhile, Master’s Son was digging around in my pockets for lip gloss and Master’s Daughter was feeding me cream buns and asking why I was sad.
I ended up doing 1,750 turns of the jump rope in class. Sabumnim the Man came over to see how I was doing. “It’s hard?”
I knew he wasn’t talking about the jumping rope. I nodded.
Tonight Jennifer came over and helped me pack. By “help” I mean that she sat on the couch and surfed and we chatted while I packed. I needed someone there to help keep me on track (as evident by the fact that I’m writing instead of packing now).
She ended up taking away some hangers, a few photos, some collapsible fabric boxes, a shirt, my cork board, a standing lamp, some books, and my bookshelf.
I’ve taken down my lantern from last year’s Lantern parade. My belts are packed up. Soon, I’ll tear down the photos and clean out my medicine cabinet.
I’m actually going home.
Without a job, without an apartment.
oh good but still smack her ass