Movers, Lean, and Allergies: Day 1 as a Freelance Writer

After weeks of trying to bid on several different contracts, ranging from writing blog posts to editing academic work to simply entering data into an Excel spreadsheet, I managed to net my first contract via Freelancer.com yesterday. The pay is insignificant. The material I’m writing about has been vastly out of my interests and comfort zone. It is the definition of a job that would not support a human life. And yet, I am enjoying it so far.

Despite all of my bidding on Freelancer, the contracts I was interested in were always being given to other freelancers – those with online reputation, a portfolio expanding years, and several hundred reviews on their profile from jobs that they had completed in the past. Strangely enough, my first contract came not from something that I had bid on, but simply from someone looking at my profile, liking what they saw, and contacting me directly.

I am now a member of the freelance writing caste. I am currently at the bottom rung, below even people who write obituaries in the newspaper. I am unsure where I rank compared to several hundred monkeys chained to typewriters. But I am here, and I am proud that I have my first paying gig. I may have written three articles and still only effectively paid for a meal at McDonald’s, but I can only go upward from this point. Some day I might write for a big audience at a major-name publishing house or firm or brand or whatever. Today I wrote about the dangers of low-cost moving, lean manufacturing principles before ending my productive day with a content pushing email designed for doctors. I may not have written literary masterworks, but I wrote something and got paid money for it.

Well, I will, when I have completed 10 articles. The current model for my payment is that I complete ten articles before my wonderful German employer will pay me. That may give you an idea as to how insignificant the money that I am earning my pecking frantically at my keyboard, trying to dig out the words that I need to get out into the digital world. I am genuinely worried that I will produce 10 articles, the employer will not pay me, and then I will promptly curse loudly into the night, before trying once more to find a job. However, the employer does have a well-reviewed profile on Freelancer, so this is hopefully unlikely. There is still fear lurking in the back of my mind though, like a cat scratching at the crack of a cupboard it wants to get into and ransack.

All of this writing was made possible by the glorious fact that today is a public holiday in Korea: Hangul Day. I find it quite fitting that I spend the day that Korea spends celebrating inventing its own form of writing putting my own digital pen to digital paper, honing my craft and hopefully getting paid at some point in the near future. I even had some extra time on the side to write some more, both for GosuGamers and this post. While I wouldn’t say I’m gaining writing momentum, it’s certainly getting easier to sit down in front of a screen most commonly used for delving into imaginary worlds of light, sound, and sensation and simply type away.

The rest of the coming weekend is filled with activities away from our humble home, so I am glad that today I managed to produce what I have. I have learned things about industries I had not cared to think much about before today. I am sure that I will learn a whole lot more in the coming months. And I can’t wait for every less-than-minimum-wage moment of it.

An Inspirational Birthday

Today is my aunt and godmother Collett’s birthday. To many people, she is a well-reputed publicist, manager, and producer in the South African arts scene. To others, she is simply a stranger that they have not and will never meet. To me, however, she is someone that has shaped the course of who I am, what I enjoy, and where I want to go with my life.

Since I can remember, Collett has been taking me to theatre shows, musical concerts, openings – almost every form of performing art imaginable. Before I was a legal adult, i had probably seen more theatre than most legal adults could claim to have seen. I witnessed everything from major productions off of Broadway to new shows in their first week in a tiny, smoky theatre. Some shows were fantastic. In others, the only fantastic aspect were the snacks served at interval. Nevertheless, Collett got myself, my brother, cousins, family, and pretty much anyone else she could possibly pin down for the time required to go and see as many shows as they could fit into their schedule. And then a show or two extra, just in case.

This exposure to the arts throughout my formative years has left its mark – I have an undying love for music, theatre, film, and almost any other form of expression. Ballet’s a little iffy, but it can be done from time to time. I have learned instruments because I heard them play in shows and liked how they sounded. I wrote because I felt that I too could tell stories like the ones I had seen.

Arguably the greatest thing that Collett has taught me is that one should never be afraid to pursue the things that one loves. Whilst other people were getting the degrees that they felt they were supposed to get, to go into the job they had been told was good, Collett went out and took a year to experience England. Whilst there, she managed to learn from one of the best managers of theatre at the time, and found that she had a passion for the industry. She has never looked back. It may have taken a while, and many dues had to be paid, but Collett is now regarded as one of the best in South Africa in the job that she is passionate about. That, to me, is true bravery. I hope to be half that brave.

Collett has always been around to help me do so. We would always try to plan regular meetings, be it to see a new show, watch a movie (the infamous Lord of the Rings viewings spring quickly to mind), or, as I grew older, cups of coffee and a chat. We would talk about everything and nothing – what was on our minds, who we thought would win the latest season of South African Idol, what I wanted to do with life, or Formula One. Collett has been watching over me from the day I was born, and for that I will always be thankful.

So, she may have a couple more wrinkles than years past, and her devotion to Michael Schumacher may have been corrupted into a love for the pretender that is Lewis Hamilton, but my love for this amazing lady will never change. Happy birthday Collett. I hope that you have many more, because this world would be far darker without you in it.

Spreading the Ink

For most of my life, writing has been something that has just happened, that has always been there with me. From my first, one-syllable pieces when I could barely hold a pen, to fledgling short stories and poems in high school, to this blog post right now, putting words onto paper in a mostly logical and flowing manner has always been something I did for enjoyment, for myself. Today, that changed. I wrote my first article for GosuGamers.net.

It wasn’t delivering major, world-shattering news that needed to be put to the masses or society would collapse. It was just a little piece telling the lovely patrons to the site that an exciting tournament of DotA2 would soon be starting. Nevertheless, I felt an immense sense of pride and accomplishment when my current mentor from GosuGamers pressed the button, and my article, something that I had written, popped up on the front page of the site. I had contributed to something larger than myself.

This is the first step in a new direction that I am taking for myself. Next year, I hope to teach only part-time, and supplement my income through freelance writing or editing jobs. Having recently been told about Freelancer.com, a most intriguing platform that helps freelancers of all trades meet up with potential projects where their talent can be utilized, I am testing the waters to see whether this could be a viable option for me for the future. I am trying to net a few small jobs, build up my reputation on the site and my skills in the writing field at the same time.

While the GosuGamers article may not be the first time my work has been published online (with a short story I wrote forming part of a digital anthology called The Collective, available here), it does mark a step in the direction of more lucrative writing, and possibly even supporting myself by doing so. This causes me to stop and wonder: could I write for a living?

My heart says that I could. Hell, there are a host of people that put pen (or the digital equivalent) to paper (or the digital equivalent) and money happens to end up in their bank account because people like their work. My mind then reminds me of the much larger host of other people desperately flogging their creative wares to no avail or profit, and I feel more reserved and conflicted at the idea, but no less keen to walk the path, even if it is only for a little while.

So, I flex my fingers and carefully tread the next brick on the yellow road of writing. Will I walk long enough to reach the Emerald City of self-sufficiency and self-actualisation? Is that even where this road goes? I know not. But I am going to enjoy the view along the way.

Victory! and other stories: ROK-U Game Week 2

Our amazing ROK-U team, Cheonwon, managed to win our first game of the season. Our weekend started rusty. There was a brief break for varying levels of drunken revelry and a stay at an amazing hostel. Then the sweet taste of victory washed over us. Our final game may have the been tainted by administrative hijinks, but nothing could take away the feeling of success that we all felt at pulling together as a team.

The games this weeks were held in Busan, the coastal city that we initially wanted to be placed in, and fell in love with over Kristen’s birthday weekend. For the second time this year, we played on sand, and for the second time this year, it was hard on our bodies. Our team had never played on sand together, and it showed in our games on the first day of play. We were rusty. We were slow. We were uncoordinated, and miscommunication abounded. Our first game epitomised these flaws, and was a demoralising loss to one of the better teams in the league.

Nevertheless, we avoided falling into a negative mental state as a result of the loss. We acknowledged that the game had happened, noted some mistakes to be worked on, and proceeded to the next game, against a team native to Busan. While we lost once more, it was a much tighter affair, with our noble Cheonwons only going down 4-8. It was in this game that we first showed signs that we could win a game on the sandy beaches of Busan.

Once our second game was completed, our games for Saturday were finished, and we had the rest of the afternoon and evening to our own, before we would head to the arranged ROK-U party at the local Irish pub, The Wolfhound. Our team took the time to visit our accommodation for the evening, a local hostel named COOOOL Guesthouse. They most certainly lived up to their name – the space was very well-designed, open, clean, and, frankly, cool. We put our kit down, had quick (or, in the case of some ladies, not so quick) showers, and headed out for a team dinner. We ate our fill, took some photos, and left for The Wolfhound.

This was my first taste of an Ultimate party in Korea, and I must say that it was a great night. Even though I was not drunk, I had more fun than most of the drunk people there. It was wonderful to see large portions of the teams in a social setting, as opposed to on the field. I played darts, I danced, I walked around in a onesie once more. The theme was pyjama party, and my actual sleeping clothes (or lack thereof) would not really be safe or pleasant for the general public to see. After Kris and I had had our fill of merriment, we left, lay down in our bunk bed, and slept soundly.

We arose in the mid-morning, with our first game of the day only at 1 p.m. Our wonderful host at COOOOL had prepared a scrumptious breakfast of egg and cheese on toast, complete with condiments and French pressed coffee. Where nothing more than a loaf of ordinary bread, some jam, and instant coffee in a tub would have sufficed, COOOOL went the extra mile. When we return to Busan, we will most certainly be returning to COOOOL. We then packed our things and said goodbye to our lovely host, heading to the beach to support the other teams/spy on them for their weaknesses.

One of the teams that we had our eyes on were the team that we would be playing next, Feel. Unlike most of the other teams in the league, they seemed to be less than perfectly organised, similar to our own level. We were cautiously optimistic that we could give them a tough game. We could maybe even win. In our pre-game pep talk, everyone was ready, and had a fire in their eyes that had not been there in the first game on Saturday. We knew that we started to really come together as a team in the second game of Saturday’s play, and if we played at that level, we could show the other teams what we could truly do.

The first half began well. We managed to score a couple of quick points, leading the game for the first time of any game in the season up until that point. After our initial burst of scoring, the game slowed down, and we began trading points back and forth. However, once we scored our sixth point, the half ended. The score was 6-2 to us. There were many smiles in our half-time huddle, but behind those smiles lay weary eyes and beads of sweat – we had run hard in the first half, and we were all tired. This tiredness showed in the first part of the second half. We became complacent, and Feel capitalised on this, scoring three quick points of their own to bring the score 6-5. At this point, hard cap was called. This meant that the game would end after the next point was scored, unless the game ended in a tie. My body was quite broken, and I spent this crucial time on the sideline, cheering for my team. Both teams played scrappily, a combination of exhaustion and in-game stress leading to a host of throws going awry. After this one point lasted ten minutes, the fastest cutter on Feel managed to break away from his mark and catch a lofty pass in the end zone, bringing the scoreline even again, and forcing the game into the Universal Point. Whoever scored the next point in the game would win it.

If the hard cap point was a marathon, the Universal Point was a supermarathon. Even with fresh legs on the field after the hard cap, the game had been long, and we all were wrecked. Instead of trying to work the disc up the field with short passes, both teams fired long-range passes, hoping to catch one of their respective cutters in the end zone and end the game quickly. They did not succeed. The point went on for twenty minutes. Fast cuts and interplay changed to ambling and desperation. And then we managed to get the disc deep in the Feel half. I made eye contact with our handler, Jotham. We both knew what had to happen. I faked a cut, beat my mark, and bolted for the left-hand side of the end zone. Jotham floated a beautiful pass, slightly beyond my reach. I leapt into the air. I caught it. We had won. It is the proudest moment in my Ultimate career up until this point.

Our next game, which had been rescheduled to a later time, was less positive. Many players on our team had booked train tickets to and from Busan weeks in advance, using the earlier timetable, where our final game took place one hour earlier than it ended up doing. Consequently, almost half of our players left in order to not miss their trains. Our last game was a rout.

Not even the frustration of losing awfully due largely do to administration could wipe the smile off of my face though. I had scored the winning point for my team in the most dramatic fashion. I felt like a king. Even now, sleep creeping in on my senses like black mist, I think back to that moment and smile. Sure, I may have fulfilled my role rather well at that moment. But without my team, I would not have been in that position. And in the moment that I scored, there was nothing in our team’s mind of but the glory of winning our first game, the joy of overcoming everything put in front of us. I helped do that.

Letting Go

Sometimes you go into a situation thinking that it is going to be great for a while, but secretly knowing that it will eventually break your heart. Some people do it with relationships. Others do it with cars, homes, holidays, alcohol, or a host of other things. For Kristen and I, it’s fostering two cats. We thought that it would allow us to reap all of the benefits of cat ownership whilst minimizing long-term commitments of doing so. Tonight, we came to the point where hearts start to break. Tonight we decided that we will not be keeping them after all.

From our first night with them, we have grown to love Kichu and Catsby. They became more than temporary squatters in our living quarters – we became a little misfit family. Because of this, we discussed the possibility of adopting them with the lady that we are fostering them for, and this option was left open for the past few months, while she got settled in her new job in Africa. Tonight, she sent us a message gently asking us what our intentions for the two feline boys are, and we were forced to think carefully about it.

We weighed up the two options: keep them forever, or begin to look for other homes for them. We had to consider both their interests and our own. First, what is in their best interests. They need a secure, stable environment where they will be happy. While we may love them deeply and care for them well, we are likely to move regularly. Kichu is incredibly averse to travel, so the less that he would have to do so, the better. We can make sure that they go to a home where they will be loved in one place for the rest of their lives.

Then, we thought about our future. As cruel as it may sound, having the cats with us would be additional responsibility. Every time we travel, every time we start a new contract, we would have to be sure that the cats could come with us. Caring for them is not an issue, but having to turn down potential future avenues is. We have to try keep as many options open as possible, so that we can make the best move for us.

So, with these considerations in mind and with heavy hearts, we decided that they should leave us. It is the best for everyone. It hasn’t been easy. Simply acknowledging that they will be leaving us, even if this is not for months yet, has brought out tears and sadness. We don’t want to hand them over. We love them like children. But, like parents who know that the time has come, we must let them go to a better place for them. The goodbyes lie ahead, but they are not upon us yet. For now, we will love them. We will treasure every moment. We will play with them at every available moment. We will even forgive the occasional accident or shredded item. They deserve nothing less.

Betrayal!

I played League of Legends for the first time yesterday. And I enjoyed it. As someone who was raised on DotA and then DotA2, this is considered a form of high treason, punishable by death or permanent low priority. Nevertheless, it happened. League was fun, and there are many differences between League and DotA2, and I thought I’d share the ones that struck me the most: the good, the bad, and the plain weird. I have only played about six games against actual humans, so this is by no means a comprehensive, in-depth comparison between the two games. These simply some of one guy’s first impressions on a game quite similar to a game that he has put thousands of hours into.

Firstly, the things I liked about League. The process from first signing up, picking an appropriate (or inappropriate) summoner name to playing against real live humans took only a couple of games against computer-controlled characters. DotA2 has an extensive tutorial that needs to be completed, and then bot games, and then only can one try to defeat prepubescent boys who speak a different language than you. To a new player, this may be a detracting factor from starting to play DotA2.

The reason that League can do this is the second reason I enjoyed jumping into League: it has a lower overall skill requirement. I am not saying that it is easier overall, or that there is no difference between skilled players and people who have never played a game in their life before, but the amount of skill required to go into a game and not single-handedly lose the game for your team is far lower in League than it is in DotA2. Sure, you may not win the game for your team, but you will not cause your first games to be hour-long visits to the house of feed and pain for your teammates.

Thirdly, League seems more whimsical. From ridiculous character skins to the more cartoony art style, League takes itself far less seriously than DotA2 does. While this may not be to my liking in the long run, there is something cool about playing a slightly insane teenage girl wielding a machine gun and rocket launcher, and this put a smile on my face in my first few hours of play.

Next, those things that I am currently ambivalent about, undecided, or haven’t encountered enough to make an informed judgement call on. In League, as you play more games, you level up and gain certain in-game benefits that would be inaccessible to new players. While this may allow for you to more intricately tweak your heroes (sorry, champions) into a bastard child of your own designing, it also means that there is some grinding necessary to unlock these. Coming from DotA2, where no matter how many games you have played, the only bonuses you get are shiny hats and more honed skills, this seems both intriguing and problematic.

The fact that there are over one hundred heroes (sorry, champions) in League, combined with a whole host of items, and then all of the summoner bonuses, I feel that it may make certain strategies or heroes imbalanced. Even in DotA2, without summoner abilities, the metagame (which heroes and strategies are played most consistently) is ever-changing.

This need for grinding encourages people to develop scripts with the sole purpose of sitting completely away from your computer and doing something else, meeting the minimum requirement to not be kicked from the game, simply to gain levels. This ruins games, and it happened to me a couple of times in my time playing League. Finally, the minimap is on the wrong side of the screen (for me). I’m sure I can easily change it, but what’s up with that?

Now, that which I disliked. Linked to the grinding above is the fact that not all of the heroes (can we just accept that I’m not going to get the terminology correct?) are available to all players at all times. There is a list of heroes which are available to everyone who plays League. The list changes regularly, so all heroes will go on the free rotation at some point. The rest being available in a store, purchasable with either in-game gold (gained by playing games) or real money. At first, I thought it was a good idea, allowing players to make tangible gains in the game simply from playing and doing well. Like a hero? You buy them, using the gold you earned while playing them during their free rotation. Also, having a limited pool of heroes forces you out of your comfort zone occasionally, which can help you improve your skills.

But then I thought about how certain heroes might be able to completely unchallenged by the free heroes, and stomp the games where people had not purchased the heroes that countered them. This kind of imbalance worried me, but not too much. It seemed like a little inconvenience. Sure, one day, you might be able to play most of the heroes every game. But not for a long time.

I disliked the fact that there is no in-game support for voice chat, only text input. Voice chat is so much quicker and more concise, and promotes greater communication. Sure, a good ping and a message can be great, but a simple ‘Careful.’ muttered by a teammate can more effectively prevent feeding. Not having support for it seems silly. We ended up Skyping a friend we were playing with in order to accomplish the same task as a feature built into DotA2.

However, the feature of League that I liked the least is the surrender option. In League, if 4 out of 5 players on the team (correct me if I’m wrong, League friends) vote to end the game, your ancient (sorry, nexus) will blow up and you will lose. The aim of this is to put you out of your misery if the enemy is using your team’s collective face as a doormat, and the game is not even close. In my experience, however, it was more often used when players had a poor early game experience, and simply wanted the game to end in order to move on to their next one. In DotA2, there is no surrender. Until an ancient explodes, it will continue. And you can continue to fight. And it is possible to come back. Comebacks from major deficits are some of my favourite memories in DotA2. With a surrender button, these are far less likely to happen. Stop voting for surrender and simply play the game.

Looking back, I see that I have only just touched the surface of the different experiences. I will undoubtedly play League more, and have more to say as I gain insight and experience. Do I prefer it to DotA2? Nope. It is a nice change, and being able to play with those friends in Korea that only play League is something I look forward to doing more. But my heart still lies in the never-ending battle between the Radiant and the Dire. Between Kunkka and Tidehunter. Between all of the heroes who I have spent inordinate amounts of time trying to master. In the words of Rubick, my favourite hero in DotA2: “Quickly! To the next battle!”.

Cleats, Hucks, and Salty Buttcracks: ROK-U Game Day 1

Yesterday was the first weekend of the Republic of Korea Ultimate (ROK-U) 2015 Fall season. After the great time Kris and I had in Seoul Spring League, we felt that we should experience the major league for Ultimate in Korea. Even before we came to Korea, ROK-U was something that drew us to the country. As ROK-U is a national league, game days (or weekends) are held in cities across the country. The idea that we could travel around Korea playing Ultimate was very appealing, and we eagerly awaited the first game day. It did not disappoint.

We arrived, managed to find our captain and several of the other players from our team, whose name is the Cheon-won. For those outside Korea, cheon-won is the Korean word for 1000 won, the Korean currency. It is roughly equivalent to R10 in South Africa, or $1 in the United States. Here is a picture of a Cheon-won note: 

These blue notes with the visage of a venerated elderly Korean general are the cancer of the wallets of those in Korea. They seem to multiply at incomprehensible rates, devouring all of the other, more valuable notes in the process.

Having a name that is drawn from a banknote inevitably leads to money being a central theme in the team. All of the team’s pre-and-during-game chants revolved around money. Some more notable of these included “CASH MONEY!” and the old faithful “MAKE IT RAIN!”. While these may not be the most creative use of the money trope, we still have all season to elaborate and branch out from these old staples.

The frivolity of our chants hints at arguably my favourite thing about our team – the spirit. We didn’t win a single game all day. We never scored more than three points in an entire game. But we never stopped fighting. We never stopped having fun. And that is more important to me than winning will ever be. I was wearing in new cleats that I had been gifted for my birthday by my aunt, and from the end of the first game, my feet were aching. I was having so much fun, I didn’t care.

Nothing exemplifies the spirit of our team more than the manner by which we dole out our MVP award to the standout player of the enemy team. Members of our team sign a cheon-won note. We then announce the player lucky enough to receive the award. That person then has to retrieve their enviable prize from the lower back, nay, the upper butt crevice of our inimitable captain. This could be a thing of horror and humiliation. With us, it is just something done for a laugh to be had by all after a hard game of Frisbee. And everyone laughs, even the person lucky enough to rescue the venerable Korean general from his sweaty prison.

We have many weekends left in the league to win games. I am glad that we started having fun before the first minute of the first game.

Pension: Storm in a Teacup

One of the foreign teachers at our school is leaving Korea. Her reasons are her own, and she feels it is time for her to leave. Something that she had to do before she leaves was claim back her pension from the Korean pension fund. On Tuesday, she went to their offices expecting to find a not-insignificant amount of money waiting to be claimed. She was told that the school had not paid a cent towards her pension the entire year. Thus began the storm of frustration, confusion, and anxiety that plagued the teacher’s room until today.

Every month, a portion of our income is deducted, allocated to the Korean national pension scheme. According to the rules and regulations of this scheme, the hagwon is supposed to place this amount in a pension account for each teacher, and match the value each month. The fact that our employer had not moved a single cent into our colleague’s account the entire year understandably caused some mild panic. All who could check their balances did so, and found the situation to be the same. The teachers who had spent prior years at the school had been paid up until the beginning of this year only, and the new teachers had not been paid at all. The panic levels increased significantly when this was discovered.

Since earlier events have caused us to question the security of our school’s continued existence, all of the teachers are wary for signs of potential financial collapse – oracles staring into flames to hope to discern whether to tuck tail and run before the metaphorical axe falls and cuts our bodies off at the wallet. Pension not being paid for the entire year is such a sign.

Kris and I were mildly less concerned because, as South Africans, we cannot get any money from this pension scheme, despite paying into it every month. The only reason we pay it is because we are obliged to, and because the payment cannot be separated from our healthcare. Even still, we are tempted to drop it and simply put aside the money that would otherwise go into the pension into a ‘Oh bugger, we have become ill or disfigured’ fund.

Nevertheless, there was a flurry of job seeking, looking up potential avenues to claim our money back, and headless chicken syndrome. Thankfully, this did not last long. The pension officer that our colleague dealt with contacted our employer and apparently threatened to press charges for the lack of payment. The next morning, all of the pensions were paid up in full.

So, all in all, it was little more than another day in the life of a foreign teacher. In one way or another, you are probably getting screwed. Your employer will not communicate properly with you. You are always looking for jobs, just in case. But hey, the money’s good, and life could be much harder.

Six on the Beach: Six Things I Learned

This past weekend, Kris and I went to a ridiculously fun Ultimate tournament in Pohang called Six on the Beach. It was a two-day celebration of Ultimate, filled with sand, sun, and throwing some discs. We brought back sore muscles, sand in places where sand should never be, and many lessons. I’ll share some of the things I learned this weekend, from the difficulty of running on sand, to the quality of the Ultimate community in South Korea.

Playing Ultimate on sand is painfully hard. 

Running of any kind is difficult enough, but sand goes out of its way to be exceptionally uncomfortable and awkward. Whether it is the mini-mountain-climbing feeling of playing on soft, uneven sand, or the pain of playing on unyielding hard, wet sand, it is not an ideal surface for quick, sharp sprinting. The only benefit that sand has over other surfaces is that it is rather suited for layouts (diving to catch an otherwise unreachable disc). This did lead to more layouts than I would have expected. Some of these were clearly gratuitous, and players were jeered accordingly from the sidelines when they planted themselves in the sand for a disc more in their reach than the hem of their sleeves.

Every Ultimate player, no matter how experienced, has something that they need to work on. 

I have a great deal of my game that I need to improve on, most of which were agonisingly highlighted during the tournament. Most prominent amongst them is my need to gain speed and endurance in my running. Close behind my physical ineptitude is my need to not panic when I get the disc. I have the annoying tendency to simply throw the disc away wantonly. This was demonstrated in what could have been a highlight of mine for the tournament: I made a full stretch, horizontal layout, catching the disc with the tips of the fingers of my right hand. The fact that I succeeded in doing this sent a surge of adrenaline through my body, and I casually tossed the disc away to what I thought was a nearby teammate. Sadly, my throw flopped pathetically to the dirt. I was, however, heartened by the fact that even the most experienced players had moments that they could have done markedly more proficiently. Whether it was throwing the wrong type of pass to making a cut to the wrong side of the field, we all had something that we felt we did poorly. We are all human, and it is helpful to remember this when you mess up.

There is no shame in having McDonald’s for two (or even three) meals in one day. 

It’s close. It’s fast. It’s (mostly) in English. When you don’t feel like breaking out your rudimentary and embarrassing grasp of Korean or waiting a long time for your meal, the golden arches lie in wait. They know you want their salty, fried, processed goodness. And they are more than willing to give it to you.

Ultimate tournaments can run on time!

I have only participated in a handful of Ultimate tournaments before Six on the Beach, but a common feature of all of them is that they ran over time to varying degrees. Some were a handful of minutes over time. Others were a handful of hours. Six on the Beach proved that they could run to schedule. With nothing more than an air horn, a watch, and some shouting, the Six on the Beach team managed to start and finish matches when they said they would. Well done! While Ultimate people are generally relaxed when it comes to time, I appreciate when events I attend run on time, and Six on the Beach did not disappoint!

Not all love motels are seedy. 

When we had been told about love motels before this weekend, I had the impression that they were completely decrepit, poorly-maintained old buildings with tiny rooms and beds filled with lumps and mysterious stains. When we booked a love motel for our one night stay in Pohang, I had my reservations. I quelled these by rationalising that we would only be there for one night, and the price was very reasonable. I needn’t have consoled myself. Our motel, which was two minutes away from the beach, was spotless. It came complete with a well-sized shower, computer (for stimulation purposes, we deduced), television, a comfortable bed, and clean towels. We would gladly stay there again, and will be far more willing to frequent love motels in the future.

The Korean Ultimate community is amazing.

While we had experienced some of the Ultimate community beforehand by playing in the Seoul Spring League, Six on the Beach was our first major exposure to players from around the country, and we were eager to see if players from around the country were as friendly, helpful, and generally pleasant and fun to be around as the Seoul community was. This was indeed the case. From first-timers brimming with enthusiasm, to veterans with the name of their Korean hometown tattooed onto their bodies, everyone was simply enjoying the weekend of sandy disc-throwing revelry. Advice was passed cordially and in good nature. Smiles abounded. Laughter contended with the various tactical calls throughout the weekend. It was sublime.

While my legs may still be sore from running, what will stay with me longer will be the memories made at Six on the Beach. The lessons I learned, the new friends I made, the older friendships made stronger – this is what Ultimate is truly about. We may all leap around after a small plastic disc, but the main driving force behind it all is something that Ultimate has had everywhere I’ve played it – a wonderful community. Thank you to the organisers. Here’s to the next tournament being as epic!

Three Years On

A little over three years ago, I met a girl. Met is almost too strong a word. I was in my favourite restaurant in the entire world, and she was a waitress at our table. I instantly found her table banter interesting. She went beyond that which was required of waitresses. Even though my friends and I arrived and ordered just before the kitchen closed for the evening, she remained cheerful with an edge of knowing sarcasm. Not to mention the fact that she radiated beauty, even after a long shift of serving people. Once I had left, I asked one of my friends who was currently working at the restaurant for her number. No, I didn’t even do it myself. I was a coward. Coincidentally, I knew that the policy for waitresses at the restaurant was to refuse all direct attempts from customers to get your personal information. So, in my cowardice, I managed to obtain her number where I would not have been able to had I been a little braver.

To my dismay, the young lady had a boyfriend at the time. I can still recall my frustration and despair at seeing the words ‘my boyfriend’ appear in the sentence of a text message later that evening. Nevertheless, I felt like she was someone that would be a positive addition to my life, regardless of whether our interests were romantic or not. I consoled myself, and resolved that friendship would suffice. A shade more than a month later, we were dating. And we are still together as I write this, one day over three years later.

This is the first photograph of us together. It was taken at an orchestra concert that I performed at. It seems like this moment was both aeons ago and just the other day. That is the weird thing about time, particularly in the context of our relationship. Memories float in the pool of my unconscious mind, much like the Pensieve used by Albus Dumbledore in the Harry Potter universe. They float independently of each other. When I think of an individual moment or experience, I can vaguely place it on some sort of timeline relative to other experiences, but I am surprised how often I am wrong. This was demonstrated last night, when we looked through the photos of us on Facebook. Things that I thought were relatively recent were revealed to have occurred years ago, and some new experiences seemed to have occurred long before they actually did. It fascinates me how time is nothing more than a construct, and one that our mind does not adhere to. We simply look into the pool of our memories, laughing or weeping at whichever floats to the top, before waiting to see what will surface next.

In the case of our relationship, I could do naught but smile at the moments we recalled last night over scrumptious fried chicken and a pint of beer. I love you, Kristen Bishop. I hope that I have the honour of doing so for the rest of my life. Happy anniversary!