A Series of Fortunate Events

The year was 2002, it was the year I had my golden birthday, the year my brother chose his college and the year I had my first experience with destiny...

Early in our lives, my brother and I both made the decision that we would leave Idaho once we turned 18. I was always set on going to the east coast and attending a private college with old buildings and ivy or possibly the University of Washington, where I could fulfill my dream of living in the city that I loved so dear, Seattle. My brother dreamed of going to LA to become a famous comedian while also simultaneously writing a screenplay and becoming the next big thing to hit the city of LaLa. So it surprised me when during his junior year of high school he began to look at colleges in the South.

The day after my sixteenth birthday my family and I made a trip to New Oreleans for my brother to look at Tulane. We would rent a car in the city and then drive over to Florida State University passing all the potential colleges that my brother's eager heart desired.

The trip was tempestous from the beginning. My father insisted that I come home early from my sixteenth birthday party to pack, apparently it takes three hours to pack for a week. My golden birthday was ruined!!! A turning point in every young females life was cut short by my brother's need to find a college. And I wasn't the only Keaton who had a hormone overdose-my brother was discovering a lovely family restaurant known as Hooters.

It seemed that every town we passed through my brother had to stop and get the chili cheese fries at Hooters. And it seemed that every waitress who served us continued to get more attractive to the horny 17 year old.

With the emotionally anguished and sexually charged teenagers, my father began to get inpatient. He didn't understand why my brother and I didn't want to go to all the historical sites of the South. Why we chose to ignore the beautiful jazz blaring out of Bourbon street and instead on creating our own rap lyrics about a fifty year old man who stole chicken on a boat tour of the great Mississippi. And most importantly, he didn't understand why my brother and I didn't want to go to his Alma Mata, the University of Idaho. By the fifth day, Kim Keaton had had his fill of children. While arguing with one another on the street of New Orleans, the old man exploded.

"Do what you want to do!!!" He screamed as my brother begged us to take one more trip to the Hooters in New Orleans and I complained about my mother's ridiculously tacky bright retro flowered pants, which are still her favorite.

"Your mother and I will see the history of the French Quarter. I don't give a damn (it was actually probably the f' word, but who knows) what you do!!!" The man roared.

"At 1:30 we will meet here under these red umbrellas at 'Cafe du Monde."

Now if you've ever been to New Orleans you'll already know this, but if you haven't I'll fill you in: There are a lot of cafes with red umbrellas in the French Quarter of New Orleans, approximately two blocks worth. There are also about a dozen Cafe du Mondes. It makes no sense, I know, but it is what it is.

As soon as my father finished his explosive release, my brother sprinted for the owl and the curvaceous women of Hooters. I of course started to stammer. I began to follow my father and my mother. Here I was in a city plague with crime and 16, I wasn't going to leave their side. When my father began to notice me behind him he said, "Oh no, you are not coming with us. You have been rude to your mother and I don't want to spend time with you."

I began to cry. I stormed out of the museum and went to the art center of New Orleans. I figured here I could at least look at some pretty art and think about how I was going to put this in my memoirs as one of the many horror stories of dear old dad.

I wandered around the art area for a while, until I stumbled upon the fortune tellers' section of the city. The fortune tellers section was spattered in the same vicinity as the prostitutes section of the city. The prostitutes ranged from scraggly women with bleached hair to young boys that were probably my age; talk about an eye opener for a 16 year old. The deeper I began to go into the fortune teller/prostitute section the more vulgar the comments and the more mysterious the crystal ball. I scanned the scene and picked the most gypsy looking woman to be my fortune teller. I figured she would probably rob me, but at least she would know my future, right?

The woman did rob me, but that is not what I got out of her. She informed me that through my mid-twenties I would have a hard time in life. That my life would be a struggle. I would come out of it alive, but it would teach me many lessons.

I asked her if I would be a pauper, if I would fail out of school, I asked her if I would loose an eye (which is actually a very weird phobia I have)... What would be this devastating event?

The gypsy sung to me this, "I don't know. We all calculate hard times differently. Judging by your beautiful skin and clean finger nails; I don't thing your struggle would be hard like the way I've struggled for really everyone has a different difficulty."

She then yammered on about her alcoholic husband, her cat with flees and the years pre-fortune telling when she was homeless and a crack whore. After giving me horrible details of her life, she told me that I needed to find a man. This could only happen if I purchased rose quartz; I would become more attractive to the men whom I most desired.

I waved goodbye and went straight to the open air market to find some rose quartz. I had been waiting 16 years to find the secret to beauty and attraction and that gypsy woman solved my problem, if only in my imagination.

As I wandered past the transvestite section of New Orleans, the words 'struggle in you twenties' began to reverberate in my ear. Those words have stuck with me for all these years. I'm now in my mid twenties and each day I'm worried about this struggle and coming to Korea has only exacerbated my worry. I wince every time I see a drunk fisherman draw his line... But then again, I question if the struggle has already begun.

I have been battling with what my philosophies are...

The fortune teller assumed that my destiny was already written out. Is there such a thing as destiny or do we live in a world where life is merely composed of actions and reaction?

How do you began to dissect your life and how do you even determine if you are happy or not?

Should I be in Korea right now? What am I gaining from this experience, what am I loosing?

Sometimes I wish there three of me. I wish that I could choose three different paths and then in ten years decide which path was the right choice.

I never went to that private ivy covered college on the east coast... Would my life had been different if I had? Would I have like it better?

What if my brother had gone to LA? What if I had never met the fortune teller on the streets of New Orleans?

What do you think readers. I know there aren't many of you, but I do love to hear your input.

Zibby

Fun Fact: Bed Time and Ghost

Dear Parents and others,

It has come to my attention that Korean children do not have a bed time. I see these small innocent creatures wandering the streets late at night and by late, I mean around 11:30 p.m.

I decided to do a little investigating...

I asked my class of second graders when they went to school and like most American children they said they go to school at 8:00 a.m. and like most American school children they get up at 7:00 a.m. to brush their teeth, comb their hair and play on their new cell phones.

I found this to be rather curious, so I asked what time they and their parents went to bed. They informed me that they went to bed at around 12:00 a.m. and their parents usually went to bed at 3:00 a.m. They did not insinuate that there was in fact a bed time or that they wished to stay up later, 12:00 a.m. is merely a time for them to go to sleep.

I was astounded!!! A child receiving only 7 hours of sleep with a full load of course work the next day, most my students (second graders) are in regular school for about eight hours, they have about two hours of after school activities ranging from Taekwondo to Piano and then they have more school activities such as English, Spanish or Math class.

I guess Koreans just don't need that beauty sleep that we in the states do.

Now onto my next topic ghosts...

The other day I was really stressed at my class and I put my hair over my face like Cousin It. The children began to scream, "Ghost! Ghost!"

When I think of a ghosts, I think of a small fluffy character like Casper, but Koreans think of a cryptic Samara from the ring.

Thankfully, I grew up in America.

Asian Tourist

One of my co-teachers invited me to go on a tour of Tong Yeong. She informed me that the tour would be in Korean, but she would help translate the Korean for me. I was a little hesitant at first. I pictured myself on a tour bus full of trigger happy people taking pictures of everything from shoes, to horses butts (this actually happened to my mother in Banff, Canada - Asians kept taking pictures of her and her horses butt... But that's another story all together.)

After a night of restless sleep (mere seconds of contemplation), I accepted the invitation realizing that I didn't have any friend nor plans on a Saturday.

My negative perspective of the Asian tourist was completely flip-flopped once I got to the tour station. The tour bus was for a total of nine people and the bus was more of a large van similar to the old aerostar mini van my mom and half the country use to sport in the early 90s. For the record, the aerostar has been off the market for about 10 years now.

To say the least, the trip ended up being a cultural lesson in how Koreans interact with each other and common enemies they share...

On the first leg of the voyage, we were taken to an island called Hasan. One of the famed historical sites in Korea for its beauty, its history and its influence on poets.

My pictures of the island will not do it justice. I felt a presence on the island and a magical beauty that I've only felt two other places in my life: Grenada, Spain and Athens, Greece.



Historically in the Song Dynasty, the Koreans were able to defeat the Japanese in this harbor. A famous General named General Lee created a turtle ship, which gave the Koreans the advantage of having a hard shell top on their vessels.

They also had the advantage of location... The fortress on top of Hasan is nestled inbetween three mountains, thus an unannounced attach was impossible due to the mountains protection and the harbors secrecy from the sea.

Koreans boast that during the battles, 7,000 Japanese soldiers were killed and only 19 Koreans were killed. The likelihood of this is very grim, but I would never challenge a Korean on their history.

During the telling of the tale, my tour guide became very passionate and any time the death of a Japanese person was mentioned or the shame of the Japanese defeat was mentioned the Koreans would laugh. Koreans have a national pride and anger towards Japanese people, which stems from a long history of Japan's extortion of the Korean people. This negative feeling is slowly beginning to fade with the younger culture, but older Koreans hold true to their distaste for the Japanese.

If you really want to offend a Korean, you will call them Japanese.

Also to note, Koreans laugh a lot. They laugh when they can't think of anything to say or during uncomfortable moments. For a long time I thought they were laughing at me, but during the trip I was informed that it is part of the Korean culture to laugh when you feel many different emotions. My friend told me that because Korean's take school and their work so seriously (An average Korean child is going to school for about 12 to 14 hours/day, including Saturdays), they like to laugh at the innocence of life.





Video clip of the tour guide, a very passionate man indeed.

Furthermore, I found that Koreans are not the type to take pictures of everything, this is mainly a Japanese tourist trait. Koreans like to take pictures of themselves or each other rather than scenery. I was the most obnoxious picture taker in the bunch and was often left behind. My co-teacher Priscilla, always asked me to take plenty of pictures of her and she found it rather weird that we took pictures together. Most young Koreans will seldom take group photo shoots, but choose to take solo/glamor shots of each other.

During the tour I noticed a lot of older groups together. I asked my friend if this is common and she informed me that every three months groups of friends will get together and go on trips, they call these groups "gays" this is obviously how it is pronounced. Groups of friends of all ages will go on little 'gay' adventures together.

Another interesting thing I would like to note here is that Korean men have purses... And I'm not talking about the European style man bag, they have full-blown purses... I've pictured a man with a Korean male purse below. It might be hard to tell from the picture, but the purse has a feminine shape and a glistening alligator skin texture.

More about the pictures below:

To the far left is a gate way into a Korean Shrine. Korean shrines always have three doors. You enter in the east and exit in the west, if you don't it is considered bad luck....

Second picture to the left is a dragon drinking fountain Koreans drink from the same cups; it is not a faucet style drinking fountain like we are use to. However, if I tried to drink from these cups or any foreigner for that matter, Koreans probably wouldn't drink out of the cup I (we) used. A lot of Koreans think that foreigners have swine flu. If I touch something at the local supermarket, a worker will usually sanitize the area after I leave...


Shrines Drinking Fountain Man Purse Ferry Boat

Back to the story:

On our way back to Tong Yeong, an old woman pushed my friend and then a different older woman wouldn't move while I tried to take pictures. I asked me friend about this and she explained Agimas to me. Agima is a name that you give to old ladies, but you would never tell an old lady she is an Agima, it literally translates into old lady, but it has many other hidden meanings.

Agimas are everywhere in Korea. They apparently are the worst in Seoul. Agimans are little old ladies that have no respect/manners for anyone but their grandchildren. They are very rude and will push you around. Most the time Koreans let them do this and thus I do too, but it is very annoying.

My friend informed me that Korean women believe themselves to be princess, thus when these Korean princess are at the Agimans age (50 +), they have become full blown spoiled queens. Now, this is not to say that all older women are rude. We had a very nice woman on our trip that gave me candy when I got scared of heights while traveling up the gondola; I'll talk about this later in the piece. But, Agimans are very common and if you ever travel to Korea, you will stumble upon these very rude Korean women. And they are rude to everyone; everyone except their grandchildren.

After we went to the beautiful island of Hasan we stopped by a history museum, where again the resentment of Japan was in full force with the below picture. It is of a dragon eating Japan. Can you see it?

In the museum, my Korean friend and I touched the artifacts. I must say, I don't know if this was really allowed, but they didn't say anything to me and so I just had to jump at the opportunity; I'm very opportunistic here.


Rar, Japan, Rar

After the historic museum we headed to the only modern art museum in Tong Yoeong - Ottchill Art Museum. The art was beautiful. It was very interesting too because one of the artists did a piece on Native Americans. I found this fascinating for two reasons, the first being that all my little students want me to call them Indian boy and second because at the art museum I went to in Busan I also saw the Native American theme. I asked my Korean friend and she said that Native Americans were very posh in Korea currently. Yes, very interesting.

Below is a couple of pictures from the gallery. The artist infused tiles with abalone shells.




After we went to the art museum, our last stop was the gondola ride to the tallest mountain in Tong Yeong. This particular gondola is also the longest in Korea. It was a beautiful ride up and when I got a little nervous because of the height a nice lady gave me some ginseng candy to cool my nerves. It did actually help.

Priscilla and I climbed to the top only to discover some older Koreans playing king of the mountain. Again, my hand went trigger happy and I took a lot of pictures, I've given you a select few. If you wish to see more, I'll have a very elaborate and boring slide show when I get back. I'm sure if you are invited to my house during the Christmas season my father will insist that you look at the slide show, while he explains in detail every picture, even though he in fact was not in Korea with me. It will only be apparent to the intoxicated guest (Rob Kincaid) that my father actually wasn't there when he continues to mispronounce Korean words like Kimchi as both my mother I correct him. While all this is happening, my brother will slink off the Lowther's house to smoke weed and play halo. Oh, I miss you family and friends.

Questions on Posting to My Wall

Hello friends and family,

I know more of you have wanted to post to my wall, specifically my mother. It is a difficult task to unmask the computer conundrum, but I think if you just set up a google account or AIM, you will be able to post your thoughts.

For example once you post a comment you'll notice an area that says, Comment Section, which has lists of profiles i.e. AIM, google, live journal, word press etc. Click on the 'comment as' section and simply sign into your AIM or google account. This should work, it worked for me.

Let me know if you have any problems or don't know what a google account is... Google accounts usually include your gmail or other googling device. If you don't have gmail or a googling device, just google, google accounts and sign up for the various google devices that make your life easier.

Zibby

An Army of One

As a child I was always considered odd. This had to do with the fact that I wore underwear on my head but also because my parents were teachers.

To me, my parents were simply mom and dad, but to the students in my class they were teachers; a weird sub-breed of humans that could not be distinguished as necessarily 'people'.

During the early stages of my becoming a 'teacher's kid', students would often ask me if I lived in the school.

"Which room is yours Zibby?" they would question with snotty noses and dewy eyes, "Do you stay in your mom's classroom? Do you share a room?."

I always found this question to be a mixture of stupidity and curiosity. I couldn't understand why this confused chap would assume that I lived at the school. Obviously he/she was not cool enough to be invited to one of my birthday parties and the fact that they were asking me this ridiculous question made me ponder their sanity and the amount of 'accidental' baby drops of their infancy.

But now as a teacher, I'm beginning to understand the strange relationship between student and teacher.

In an elementary school, you see a teacher five days a week in the same place for at least seven years (that is if a teacher doesn't retire, have an affair or move to Rhodes Island). The consistency of the meetings inside the school creates a shocking after effect when students see a teacher outside of his or her domain. I believe students merely create a fantasy that their teachers live in the school because the thought of seeing them outside the school might give them a small seizure or create unnecessary wetting.

The same could be said for when I see my students outside of class. I might be promenading on the local beach front and run into Daniel holding his mother's hand. This awkward encounter is frightening. What do you say to a student outside of class and especially when this student barely speaks English?

Hello...

I question my rather odd relationship with students on a daily basis, but mainly a question the people who have chosen teaching as a profession. People who have dedicated their lives to the classroom and plan on waking up for decades to the sound of a classroom stirring in the distance.

What is their reasoning?

I have had many thoughts to their reasoning... Maybe all teachers are underground glue sniffers. People who simply have to stay close to a school building because they're addiction would be costly without a school supply and a handy stash at all times...

Now most teachers won't admit to this addiction, instead they'll feed you lines like: Teaching is an art... It is exciting to see students learn... I guess I was just born with it...Summer Vacation FOREVER...

Yes, I know what you are thinking? These are all bogus and underrated excuses to teach. I think it is something bigger, something greater than we all anticipated and I think I've discovered the secret to teaching...

It was a Tuesday afternoon and I had just been listening to Obama's speech to students (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ZZ6GrzWkw0). As I sat their listening to Obama inspire kids to do well and go far, the Republican mantra kept playing in my head, "He is brainwashing the students."

And then it stung me like a hidden bee inside a coke can, the true reason to teach: brainwashing!

These students are like little soldiers, ambitious and potentially potent.

Why not create a classroom of one? A classroom that thinks, looks and reacts like an army might do.

Much like Obama is trying to train the students of America to think democrat i.e. do well in school. I must train my students to think and feel only for me.

I am their chief commander, I hold their happiness, future and integrity at my finger tips.

I shall teach my students to feed off propaganda and strive for violence.

From Obama's speech on, I've been slowly incubating my students to become my small South Korean Army or shall I say the Republic of Korean Army.

I currently have my students listening to Stalin tapes circa 1950. They are already marching and praising me for giving them more homework.

Instead of passing out stickers and candy like the other teachers, I pass out slaps and threats. Slaps because they need to know pain and threats so they don't weasel home to their parents and 'tattle'.

I can sense that some students are born with the taste for violence. The students that continually hit their neighbor and show no respect for other people's items. They are mainly students of top Korean mobsters, but a few are the sons of doctors that can't take the pressure and daughters of lawyers that are sick of arguing through words. These are all my little henchlings. The students that with a little poke have become excitedly and happily, my army.

Take for instance the picture above. See the smiling girl in the middle, we call her Attila the Worst or Sweet Sally for short.

Sweet Sally is a direct decedent of Attila the Hun(As most Koreans are of Mongolian descendant) and is pro at whipping and manipulating children to believe in my cause.

She slinks like a snake through the halls listening to hear any rebel uprisings from the students. If a student is caught in distress or is about to turn, Sweet Sally quickly snitches on the lost soul and I takes care of the damage. I steal their pencil cases and call them Japanese. (Koreans hate to be called Japanese.)

Now, you must be asking yourself, what exactly are you going to do when you leave in a year?

Who will fight against these small students?

Where will the wars of Zibby be passed?

Well that I cannot tell you now. I currently don't have any enemies in Korea and the only girl I can't stand in the states, I call her Mean Girl because she is extremely mean, is the only potential target on my list.

I'm hoping she doesn't wear shin guards around because my students are rather small and are more fierce below the waste. The details of my attacks are vague, but I'm sure inspiration will come once I watch "Braveheart" again and the students have mock wars. I'm thinking we will do an adaptation of WWII.

But for now, I guest this is just merely a warning.

A warning for students and parents to beware of the quintessential teacher. A teacher who brainwashes your kids to achieve goals and complete college...

Because these teachers may, oh they just may, be training your loved ones for bigger things, like creating their own army of one.

Not in this butt

Much like American children, Korean children like to play tricks on one another. One of their many tricks is to stick their fingers in a gun shape and then stick these two fingers up each other's butts. (I believe it is called go dong)

I'm not kidding.

It is the most disturbing thing I've ever seen.

I would say they equate this to American children giving wedgies.

And worst of all... They also like to do this to teachers.

To say the least, I always walk with my hands on my butt.