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If I lie down long enough and let the snow cover me, I’ll look like them. I will finally fit in. At last I will be able to sit at a bar or walk through the mall and not be the only minority. I have already learned to act like them; hell I was raised like them. I speak their language, can share their values, I could even get married to one of them without “daddy” disapproving. Now wouldn’t that just be grand.

But thats the funny thing about this whole proposition. In order to become white like them I would have to take it lying down. And being flat on my back is not a position that I seem to fancy.

-Adios Snow Angels

Ever since the movie Mr. Baseball hairy, crass, ignorant white dudes everywhere think they are God’s answer to Asian chicks.

–Fuck you Tom Selleck!!!

I am sick, tired and just want to go to sleep. All of a sudden my mobile rings, it’s James. He’s on his way and is rather insistent that I get dressed and come out for a few drinks down at the local pub. According to him it’s “poppin’ off and everyone is there”. Yay. So I slug down some more cough medicine put on some clothes and rub a bit of cream into my hair, and we are off. Now the Cottage is the type of pub that most would call a dive. I think that is a gross overstatement. It is smelly, old, and filled with creepy old white men. However it is at the epicenter of town and provides a good place for you to go if your looking for cheap drinks, greasy food, and all of your old high school friends. It seems that every year around this time when kids are migrating back home from college or lives in other cities, they inevitably convene at the cottage.

 

As I finish up the last drag on my cigarette and reluctantly sloth myself up the stairs and through the front door I am greeted with the warm shouts of “Hey there he is, good of you to show up buddy.” The place is packed which is somewhat of an aberration, however I am to find out that it is the unofficial class reunion of 2004. Swarms of younger semi-familiar faces surround me. I am relatively comfortable seeing that most of my closest friends are there so at least I will have some people to talk to. As I make my rounds giving hand shakes and high fives, taking in the delighted faces of people who are a bit too much on this piss and kids who are just in the holiday spirit I notice an unfamiliar face. Across the room my stare is instantly fixed on a rather striking girl. The fact that she is quite beautiful aside the most perplexing thing about this girl is that she is Asian. Do my eyes deceive me, another Asian person in my pub. The pub where I am always the only minority. This is quite odd I must say, I feel compelled to talk to her. To ask her where she came up with the loony idea to upset the balance in my white little world. Honestly the audacity of it all. This comes all in jest of course. I am very pleased to see one of my own in this painfully monotoned environment. Thoughts are racing through my head as I work up the courage to approach her. I wonder if she is like me. If she is adopted, if she detests being surrounded by a sea of unwelcoming faces, if she wishes she were anywhere but here. Before I do finally approach her I do a bit of sleuthing. I ask friends and acquaintances about her. I have always felt that when entering new situations it is very important to be well informed on what you are getting into. Maybe it was the sources of the information or maybe it was the lack of consistency and indifference of the answers I received, but what I was hearing lead me to believe she was everything I had hoped she would not be. From what I had gathered she was typical of what you find of KAD’s in these parts. She was wild, liked to get on the piss, and loved to fuck with white boys. But despite all of this I figured I should find out on my own this truth on the mystery girl. The following conversation ensued.

Me: Hello I’m Tim it’s a pleasure to meet you.

Silly KAD: Hi I noticed you all night I’m glad you finally came over and introduced yourself.

Me: Yeah so am I.

Silly KAD: So I’m Korean and adopted, what about you?

Me: Yeah as am I.

Silly KAD: Wow that’s amazing what are the odds.(yeah right what are the odds?) Whats your plane date?

Me: Plane date?

Silly KAD: Yeah plane date. You know the day your parents got you from the plane. The day you get all the gifts and stuff. It’s like a holiday to celebrate the day you came off the plane.

Me: (Quite bewildered not to mention disgusted at this point) Ummm yeah I don’t know my “plane date”. That’s not really something I would celebrate.

Silly KAD: (with a puzzled and uncomfortable look) Oh, well mine is blah blah blah.

 

 

She catches a nasty look from her unassuming white boyfriend and quickly scampers off. I can understand his concern that the remedy to his yellow fever is talking to a person who potentially may open her eyes to the error of her ways. But he has nothing to worry about. At her age she is already lost to the result of years of lies and burial of the truth. It was at this point I realized again how utterly alone I was in the pub(and this town). I had a feeling she wasn’t going to be the type of KAD I could open up with and swap stories about adoption and what it means to be a KAD. I mean honestly “plane date” what a pile of shit. As if I am to throw up my hands and rejoice about the day I was received off a plane like some package being delivered from UPS. Do I celebrate the days that a man in tiny brown shorts drops off my latest purchase from the internets. No. So to trivialize my (our) arrival to this country, to this life of misconstrued identity, is absurd.

 

I went over to James ordered a couple of shot of whiskey and toasted to our friendship. The nice thing about James is that he embraces his mixed heritage. And that was just the reprieve I needed after another typical KAD encounter.

 

Adios Mr. Jamison

    At this point a lobotomy might be the best course of action. I am pretty sure if memory serves me right that in the movie Hannibal, Dr. Lecter removes the frontal lobe of one of his victim and feeds it to him. This with no real consequence to said victims ability to speak, move about, and still function on a level that would make Larry the Cable Guy jealous. Really how is Mr. Victims existence much different than most of the slugs you interact with day to day. If you ask me its not. Most people go about their business very routinely, very regimented, with little or no deviation to what they know. I envy that.

I am considering this whole frontal lobe removal thing because it would seem to be the answer to a lot of my problems. One of which being these bloody head aches that I seem to constantly have through out the day. Most noticeably these occur during increased moments of thought. And not even deep thought, but all types of thought. From the mundane to the existential. For example most recently and the reason I am up at 3A.M. writing this is because of my random thoughts on God. He is a funny one that God of ours. (this applies to whatever your religious preference may be) The old adage that people like to throw around is the one about God working in mysterious ways. Now if this is true and I suppose it must hold some water for adages like stereo types come from a collective idea or generalization about something, then God is telling me something every night. Every morning I wake up and my fucking comforter is upside down. Well how do you know it is upside down? you might ask. (and I know your asking that right now) You see I have one those duvet covers on my down comforter. Which at the bottom end has an opening and buttons to where you insert the down comforter. Now I very much like this comforter. So much so that I sleep with no other sheets or blankets for the sheer reason that I do not want my cozy, loving, warm comforter to get jealous. I am actually so partial to my comforter that were I Egyptian and of some sort of social status that when I were to die they would to embalm me and put my in one of those great little gold body boxes, (or sarcophagus for you technical people out there) I would insist that I be wrapped in my comforter instead of those silly looking Scooby bandages.

Any way I am getting of track here. Back to God. I think he’s trying to tell me something, and most defiantly in a mysterious way. Via my down comforter. How could it possibly end up upside down every single fucking day. It can’t, its impossible. That is unless it’s the work of God. I believe he is trying to tell me to make some changes in my life. That the life I lead now and all of the things I do are wrong in some way or rather upside down if you will. You like that do you not. The whole upside down world, upside down comforter link. Oh you don’t like that well piss off then, I do. So I have surmised that if I abandon everything that I know and start anew that I will be one day able to wake up with my comforter in the proper position and thus heeded Gods call. Pretty righteous yeah. I mean listening to God is a good thing and can only bring happiness and prosperity into my life, right? I mean what I’m doing now doesn’t seem to be working out to well, at least not in my comforter position department. So It is either move and change my ways or lobotomy. For some reason this doesn’t seem to be tying in very well. But it is 3 in the morning and my head hurts so what do you really expect. Hopefully I’ll get this edited before anyone reads it. Until tomorrow morning your ass backwards blanket.

-Adios Mr. Lecter

And if this is all that I will ever know, I shall never ask for more

A cold night and an empty house, standing on the yellow lines

The crisp nights air dancing around me

With thoughts that swirl like the snow.

Is this everything?

Is there more?

You came and went, not saying but a single word

A ghost maybe or a phantom

If we are to meet again I am certain it will not be for naught

Respite comes soon for those who seek it

For the night is the bane of day

My one true friend.

-Adios Orion

A soldier of fortune of sorts, mercenary for a lack of better terms. This is the word in which i choose to describe being a KAD.

Raised in a society where money is the root of all happiness. Where our identity is founded in the material part of things. I find that If go where the dollar takes me, I might stand a chance of blending in a little more if I do that. I acclimate myself to the highest bidder. Trade the old and familiar for the shiny and new. Fresh kicks and crisp jeans, that should help. Dinner at chic resto lounges and drinks with girls straight out of the O.C. thats another step closer. This is all in a(n) feeble attempt to belong.

That feeling of belonging that has escaped me since the tender age of four months. Am I Korean? Not exactly. American? Kind of. I suppose if I wanted I could be Bratislavaian.

The aesthetic wouldn’t allow such things. However is it not the heart that decides who we are ultimately? I’m not sure. I would like to think that as human beings we all have the innate ability to look deep into one another’s soul and find the true form of one another. But it is apparently clear to me that we become ever so caught up in “life” and we just carry on with it. Never really stopping to peer inside the depths of our fellow man.

So for now I will just get on with it and remain a mercenary. Left to the highest bidder.

Hello All,

Well this is it yeah.  I finally decided to jump on board and give the rest of the world a bit of insight into what makes me, well, me.  I am not exactly sure what my intentions for this blog are. At this particular point I suppose I don’t really have an aim for what I want this blog to convey. But I suppose thats alright. Isn’t it? I am sure the soul of this blog will reflect the soul of its writer and at the end of the day you all will decide what this is about and who I am.

I believe I am doing this for purely therapeutic reasons. It is my hope that this blog will allow my to express a lot of the thoughts, feelings, and emotions I have as not only a KAD( Korean Adoptee) but as a young man trying to find his way in this world. There is a lot tucked away in this head of mine and I think its time to let it breath.

Most of the topics I am sure to be posting will deal with adoptive issues, but not all. I may review a result from an Arsenal match, I may talk about interesting books and music. Most surely I will talk about love. Love for friends, love for family, love for lovers.

Well that is all for now I hope that whoever reads this enjoys it. Actually I take that back I rather don’t care much if you like this or not. This is for me and if it offends or if you find that something is in bad taste well then piss off.

Thank you. Surely there is more to come.