The SBD - 2020/07/08

"People say nothing is impossible, but I do nothing every day." — A.A. Milne

It's been quiet today. In a loud way I guess. My window sits over a small, but busy road separating me from the local middle school. From the few glances I've had of the outside when I went to get tested for COVID, the street comprises mostly of businesses, a small block of homes, then businesses again. 

The first couple of mornings the busy sounds woke me, very different from the quiet buzzing of Midwest countryside. But I'm adaptable, and this isn't my first time living on a busy street. Part of it is all the newness. It's an odd collection of "same but different". I've heard Korean before, daily in fact between dramas and the music. I've had neighbors yell before, screech even, back at college.

The slight inversion that sits over my head is also familiar, the smell and color reminding me of winter days in Salt Lake where the clouds sat over the valley, preserving us in our own mess. But here the mountains don't leave a convenient gap to indicate North, and the high-rises around me aren't the busy hubs of commerce that you see in Salt Lake, brimming with life only during the regular 8-5. Each building has enough homes to hold one of my hometowns (~1,500), and when the sun sets they fill with life, dining rooms and living rooms shining out into the night sky. 

 

The mix of these two worlds, the "same but different" makes for a heady sensation that's hard to describe. How is it possible to see and recognize what's happening around you, and at the same time feel like you're seeing for the first time in your life? 

Waking up before my alarm has become my habit since getting here. Sunshine fills my room, and I'm surprised to see it's 5:15AM. It's incredibly bright for how early it is. I consider trying to fall asleep again, but the calm morning wins and I get up and sit at the window. This is a habit that anyone who knows me will testify to being entirely "different". 

I message the MRRS' knowing they're all up and about (being about 3PM at home), and my phone comes alive with another "same but different" as the familiar voices and conversation begin to fill my morning. By 6 I've started working on the blog, getting posts lined up about the trip in, and getting its details outlined. Changwon has started to come alive too, and the trail has started gathering a decent collection of runners and walkers to its green paths. I try to not be too envious of them, reminding myself that I've had access to trails before and have gone months without using them, much less two weeks. I returned to my writing. 

It's a day much like yesterday was. Working out to my trusty apps, scripture study and meditation, then showering and breakfast. The mornings are some of my favorite times of day. There's so much yet to be done, things to accomplish. That routine blinds me to the time that still needs to pass, giving me a clear direction forward. 

But then it's 9AM, and the test begins. Today I'd give myself a C+. I studied Korean, some. It was somewhat distractedly and not wholeheartedly, but it happened. The same can be said about my studies for work. Everything I set out to do, I did, but it wasn't for as long as I'd planned, or as faithfully. 

The result being I finished sooner than I had planned, and found myself with YouTube playing in the background, my current coloring page out with sharpies at hand. Eventually YouTube changed to Netflix, and I realized I had let myself slip from the planned upon tv/productivity ratio. 

Leaving the TV playing, I do a light cleaning, putting dishes away, vacuuming and wiping down surfaces. Smiling as I get a text from my supervisor "L" letting me know that our boss Lu was going to drop off some fruits and vegetables for me. I'm grateful for them, especially L, who has been a friend in my pocket since before I came to Korea. We've never met in person, but her texts are a welcome bridge into this new adventure. My miracle of good employers seems to still be in play, and it's something I can't help but be grateful for. 

Eventually there was a knock on my door, and after an appropriate pause to make sure I'm at no danger of coming in contact with Lu, I open the door and whisk the food into the apartment. The fresh produce delivery was a welcome interruption and I loved some of the new things she had brought me to try. Something L and Lu both have in common is sending what they think you need, and not just what you ask for. Meaning I have new vegetables to try, and I love it.

Back to the computer. I'm people watching as I write, and the school in front of my apartment has a playground that seems to be fairly popular. Many have taken advantage of the clear air and warm weather to play after a hard day's work. The families are my favorite, the sounds of laughter telling stories understandable to anyone from anywhere, no google translate necessary. The trail sports a few out door workout stands, and the kids and grandmothers (할머니) alike spend quite a bit of quality time on them. 

The next several hours loom overhead, attempting to intimidate me with a demand to fill them. But time and I are old friends, and I'm expert at letting the minutes and hours trickle past. Because that is the nature of time. You can't hurry it, anymore than you can slow it down, so I let it be. Time is a better friend than an enemy. Making it probably the biggest "same but different". 

-Shayla