My blog
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Seoul Man
Wednesday, Jun 25, 2008 6:43PM / Standard Entry
2:53am
Random memories, funny how they just pop up in the middle of the night. In 6th grade my mother had an idea that she was going to open a Beauty Shop. Why? I don't really know. She was always looking for something to make money. Why? Because she's Korean? It's all I can really think of. Needless to say mom's ideas usually ended up with me becoming involved somehow. With or without me wanting to. It was around October she took a course in beauty. Is that what there called, anyway the things you learn in the course are things like, cutting hair. Dying hair, perming hair, and anything they can cram into your head in three weeks. Mom had this infatuation with perms. She had it in her head that only rich people could afford to have curly hair. I think she watched too many Korean soaps with people with perms in them. So she comes home the day of the perm class very excited. She tells me I am a lucky boy today. Living in Georgia I never felt that lucky, but so I heard her out. She tells me she's going to make me handsome and more American looking.
3 HOURS PASS:
I have really, really curly hair. Imagine Annie.
but with slanted eyes and a BOY!
Not good, not happy, very sad. Lot's of tears. Mom hid in her room.
FEW WEEKS LATER> HALLOWEEN
For almost four months I saved up for the ultimate Halloween costume. I was going to be the baddest, meanest, scariest WEREWOLF in town. I took my allowance and lunch money and bought the whole set. I'm talking rubber mask, not the cheapo plastic ones, but the thick rubbery ones that make you sweat and cover your whole head. The gloves. Rubber WEREWOLF gloves! Rubbery fur and long bloody nails! Come on ,can you see it? Then there was the tattered green WEREWOLF clothes. This set the costume apart, it took the WEREWOLF to the next level. I was a 12 year old WEREWOLF! I was mean, I was scarey. I meant business man. That candy was mine.
SUNDAY
Korean= Lots of Church
Halloween happend to land on Sunday that year. That particular Sunday we went to visit a new Korean Church near Atlanta. About 2 hours away from home. Church was boring ,lots of crying and Korean talking that I could barely understand. Ate 9 donuts. Worth the trip. either way I was a happy 12 year old. Come on, it was Haloween and I was going to be a WEREWOLF!
CHURCH IS OVER>
Mom tells me we will stop by the pastors home for some chit chat. I remind her of what important Holiday it was. She agrees to stay an hour and get home in time for trick or treating.
6PM>
I'm in a panic. Mom tells me to stop bothering her or she's going to whip my ass. I learned young, Korean Woman and Church = Don't bother her.
The pastor had three children, my memory of them were pleasant ones. They seemed nice and meant well. The oldest was a freshman in higschool. She saw the tears pouring out of my permed head. I confessed to her my ploy, she said she could help me. Her younger sister was going as a witch and her little brother as a zombie. So they had an abundance of Halloween makeup. She assured me that her skills were superior, equal to that of the best special effects artists in Hollywood. Some brown and red blood makeup could make me look even more authentic than my rubber SUPER COSTUME. What could I do. I had no choice really.
She was right, she did have a lot of make up. There was enough brown to cover my whole face and hands. The red blood covered my lips and more. I was feeling ok about this. A compromise but ok. The WEREWOLFness came from a WEREWOLF attitude. I could pull this off. ARGHHHHHH!
FIRST TRICK OR TREAT HOUSE>
Ding dong..."hey kids"..."trick or threat!"..."oh my, how scarey you are, you must be the evil witch, and you must be the mean and scarey zombie. And you...oh I know, your Gary Coleman".
Tears.
HALLOWEEN= 1 PACKET OF CANDY CORN
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Hitler's Pager - 7 (I shouldn't have taken the pill)
Monday, Dec 17, 2007 6:17PM / Standard Entry
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Hitler's Pager-6 (Muscular Legs)
Saturday, Dec 15, 2007 7:05PM / Standard Entry
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Hitler's Pager - 5 (Father's Day)
Thursday, Dec 13, 2007 4:57PM / Standard Entry
The pill…should have gone to the store…so lazy, so stupid! Needless to say, it didn’t help…needless to say I feel worse.
But hey, don’t judge…can’t keep my eyes open either…had to take out my contacts because my eyes are swelling and itching. I’m pretty much blind…–6.25 prescrīption, translates to blind. Weighed myself this morning, 153 pounds…usually float around 177 to 185. Where’d it all go? Oddly, I feel stronger…like I’ve been working out a lot. My whole life I’ve been made fun of because of my skinny girly legs…just in the past few days my panths are too tight. Thick legs but I feel sick…headache, throw up sick. Shouldn’t have taken the pill…was probably expired. Got a call from my mother last night, she was mad that I didn’t call on father’s day. A little late I thought...and what does she care, she’s not a father? I wonder if I was adopted. I have a love hate relationship with her, it’s always been that way, and maybe it’s the way it’s supposed to be. I never cared for Fathers Day anyway…is it a real holiday? Kinda weird to celebrate a day so many by default qualify for. Do all fathers really deserve a day for themselves? It’s not like Martin Luther King Day or Columbus Day. These people actually did something. What about son day? Why not have Brother Day? Besides Fathers day has horrific memories for me…you might ask how can Fathers Day be in the same sentence as horrific…well let me tell you. In 3rd grade my mother found out about a day after Fathers Day sale in the basement of Montgomery Wards. Remind you it’s a “Day after Fathers Day Sale.” She came home with a victorious grin on her face. Grins never meant anything good for me. This grin meant I was the recipient of ten-99cent Father’s Day
T-shirts. Each with it’s own unique Fathers Day theme. Wonderful themes such as “Super Dad”, “Never underestimate the Power of a Dad!” You get the idea. All great tributes to beloved Fathers of the world, “if you are a father.” Not for an 8 year old boy! But how do you explain this to Mrs. Master of Cheap? Needless to say I was forced to wear the “Super Dad”, t-shirt the next day. Funny…at an early age I could tell who the smart kids were and the ones that would grow to be just regular…The smart ones laugh at me and let me know I was wearing my dads shirt, the dumb ones believed me when I said the shirts meant I loved my father. Well until next time… “Never Underestimate the Power of a Dad!”
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HITLER’S PAGER - 4
Friday, Dec 7, 2007 3:38AM / Standard Entry
