Anxious

Painting is entitled, Frantic by Whitney Bedford.

Since Thursday, I've been feeling mighty anxious. I have dwindled the feeling down to this: in a couple short weeks, I'm moving to a new continent. One would think that with any huge move across the Pacific Ocean, there would be a TON of loose ends to tie up. Fortunately, because there is a void here where responsibility should be, there are practically none of these. I have visited the pension refund office, the immigration office, the bank, and talked to my school about settling up my last pay. I don't even have to cancel my phone: I have a one year contract that will end in July and they have a hefty deposit from me that will cover my last month's bill. So yes, I'll be racking up the calls to Canada this month!

Maybe I'm anxious too because despite the fact that I've never fully acclimated to the country, this has been a very comfortable year. I don't love Korea, no. But it's an easy life...and I have a feeling that my next Adventure will require far more work and far more effort to be equally successful. Yesterday a woman stared at me like I was responsible for the Korean war. I showed no cleavage and was engaged in fully appropriate behaviour. In fact, I was alone, keeping quietly to myself. What usually works (bowing slightly and smiling) did not...and despite the fact that I've been seeing this, experiencing this for a year, I was still amazingly annoyed with her. This is probably the most racist country I have ever been to and it's startling to be on the other end of the prejudice. To say the very, very least, I'm excited to go home. However, I will never again be able to sit in a restaurant and talk about blatantly inappropriate topics with no concern that anyone around me will be able to understand fully what I'm saying. I will have to start tipping again at restaurants (gasp!). I will have to commute farther than 6 minutes to work everyday. Though the culture was hard to get used to, the perks were pretty darn perky.

I'm winding down Sunday afternoon with a particularly disgusting task. Alicia has asked me to write her eulogy for her. She's taking a death and dying course and is having trouble penning her own eulogy. She's bringing in the big guns. How morbid. I thought it would be easy to say lovely things about my friend. Though that's no challenge, writing that's she's dead is pretty hard to wrap my head around.

They say (who is "they"?) you should write your eulogy and keep revising it. I say it's harder than it seems.

More updates to follow once I get some pictures from last night. We had a Sex and the City party and went out to see the movie. It was a real disappointment, but the party was a blast.

How was your weekend?