Scrubbing the Potty Mouth

When I was younger, I was known for being a quiet, gentle young lad. I was always sitting comfortably in the corner of the room, politely surveying the goings-on around me. I would only offer my comment when I felt that it would be most pertinent. This comment was always delivered calmly, and with vibrant, vivacious vocabulary. Nowadays, however, I fear that I most often draw my auditory diction from a small pool of vulgar swear words. I have become lazy. So, this week, I have begun rehab for my addiction to swearing.

Swear words to a child are like the penises of statues – they’re always around if you’re in the right sort of situation, they’re funny, and grown-ups like to hush-up the fact that they exist. Naturally, the first curse one utters in front of one’s family and friends draws significant attention, shock, and a few giggles. Little do we know when we are young that, for some, these expletives would become the most frequently-used words in their arsenal.

I have nothing against swearing in general. In some situations, all you need is a short outburst to feel better. They can be remarkably expressive. However, as someone striving to write for a living, I need to be constantly testing and growing my vocabulary. I can’t have swear words to use as a crutch for lazy speech.

In the past few months, I have seen myself drawing ever closer to becoming counted amongst this sailor-mouthed number. Anyone who has played a Dota game, Ultimate match, or game of Settlers of Catan (curse you, Robber!) with me knows that despite my generally calm demeanour, I let loose like the best of them. When I am frustrated, one-syllable words fly forth like ducks fleeing a hunter. My swearing used to be confined to these high-stress, high-stakes situations. Over the course of my time in Korea, I have caught myself swearing under my breath and in my everyday speech with increasing frequency. I have become lax in finding the perfect word for the situation, and have begun making do with the ever-versatile curses. The time has come for change.

 

So, I felt the need to devise a suitable routine to combat this decay. I had to institute a punishment system: when I swear, I receive a negative stimulus that makes me not want to do it again. I needed something simple, that could be administered in nearly every scenario quickly and without causing Koreans to bring out their phones and video the funny foreigner. My perfect deterrent: tickling.

I detest being tickled. For this fault, God was gracious enough to make nearly every inch of my body ticklish to some extent. Sometimes I can even tickle myself. It is pitiful. I may come to regret sharing this fact with the world, but it is for the best. The system is not complicated: I swear, I get tickled. Kristen is tickled pink at the new system. She draws concerning amounts of enjoyment from tickling me, and applauds the new swearing punishment system. So, if I swear in a conversation with you, feel free to invoke the right to subject me to moments of ticklish fury. *gulp*

I have high hopes. If I do not have swear words to fall back on, I will likely be more calm and able to detail exactly what I mean to say. All of the tickling torture will be worth it. My speech will hopefully mimic my writing in terms of vibrancy and diversity. Maybe, just maybe, I might even become immune to tickling. That would be fucking fantastic. Excuse me while I receive my punishment.

Wonderful Weekend in Wonju

Most weekends, Kris and I are too lazy to go anywhere. The times when we have enough motivation to get out of our pyjamas and leave the house, we tend to do something that we could never have done in our home country of South Africa. This weekend, we managed to accomplish three very worthwhile activities: see the city that we will be moving to when our current contract is completed, ski, and eat waffles in the company of raccoons. Needless to say, it was a good weekend.

For a few weeks now, one of our fellow teachers and Frisbee companions has been planning to visit Phoenix Park, one of the major skiing parks in Korea. We told him we would go, jumping at the chance to experience skiing. Getting up before the sun on Saturday morning was hard. But we managed to do it.

After about two hours of travelling, we met our friend at the Wonju bus station. We picked up some kimbap (it looks similar to sushi, but is warm and quite delicious), and drove to Phoenix Park. Upon arrival, we parked, payed the significant entrance fee, and sorted out our rental clothing for the day. Decked out in mismatching clothes and boots that seem unnecessarily clunky, holding pointy sticks and long pieces of plastic that apparently help you glide on snow, I felt ridiculous but excited to try and ski.

Our friend warned us that skiing is learned by falling down multiple times. I certainly proved that adage correct. In the 8 or so hours we spent at Phoenix Park, I fell on my face, hips, arms, buttocks, and shoulders. The number of times I hit the powdery dirt was likely in triple digits. But I enjoyed almost every minute of it. Within moments of my first run on the slope, I experienced the first instance of the lowest point of skiing, in my opinion: losing your skis.

Losing your skis when you fall down is the epitome of sadness. Skis are designed to fall off of your foot with sufficient force, in order to avoid twisting your ankle. However, when it does so, you have to trudge uphill and attempt the ‘putting on the ski again’ ritual. When I first tried, I spent ten minutes looking at the skis, shoving my foot in the slot where they went in the first time, shoving it in harder, kicking the ski in frustration, swearing, and looking at the skis once more. I was ready to get out an ancient bone knife and slit my wrist in a blood ritual to allow the ski demons to open forth their plastic home. Luckily for myself and the onlookers on the slope, I was soon met with my first of many ski patrol staff, intent on helping me master the art of gracefully falling down a mountain covered in snow. This very polite Korean gentleman informed me that the blood ritual was not necessary. All I needed to do was push down the button right behind where your foot goes, and clip your foot in again. I felt more than a little unintelligent. But then I got up, skied for about 5.7 seconds, fell down again, and forgot all about my previous predicament.

We spent more time than I had expected at the park – we enjoyed it enormously. Whilst I was learning the intricacies of falling over, getting up, and re-applying one’s skis, our friend and Kristen were elegantly making their way down the slope. After our day of fun, we returned our gear and then returned to our friend’s home. His very kind Korean mother attempted to feed us, we said goodnight, and fell asleep.

This morning, we woke far later than expected. Our muscles ached from the exertion of the skiing, but we were excited to see more of Wonju, the city that we will soon be calling home. It looks very nice. Far bigger than Dongtan, far older, and with a prominent feature that Dongtan is lacking: a cafe’ where you can drink coffee in the company of raccoons.

I know what you’re thinking: raccoons are dirty scavengers that roam the earth with the sole aim of raiding dustbins (trash cans to my American readers) for their goodness. These raccoons convinced me otherwise.

Look at that thing. All it is is a big ball of fluffiness and curiosity. We were warned that we should close our bags in the cafe’, as the raccoons would raid them and eat whatever they found. With that warning successfully heeded, we had a wonderful time with them. I feel that the raccoon cafe’ will become a regular haunt of ours in Wonju. They’re so cute and fluffy!

After our time with the raccoons, we went to a PC room and played Dota for several hours. We won, we lost, we shouted, we had fun. All in all, we became very excited for our move to Wonju. It will be good to already have a group of friends in a city before moving there. The fact that two of our better friends in Korea live there is even better.

We had an exquisite time in Wonju. Whether we were skiing (or as close as I could come to skiing) down the slopes of Phoenix Park, marvelling at the cuteness of raccoons, or playing the game that we love with people that we love playing it with, we are both very glad that we decided to leave Kichu and Catsby to guard the apartment whilst we frolicked in central Korea. We have six weeks left in our current contract before we can call Wonju our home. After this weekend, we are even more eager for the time to pass.

7 Weeks, 7 Lessons

On the 29th of February, Kris and I will finish our first year-long teaching contract in Korea. I cannot believe that time has flown by so fast. It seems like only a few weeks ago when we stepped off of the plane and were swept into an ominous black taxicab. We feel like we’ve known some of our friends here for many years already. And yet, it still feels like we are incredibly new to both teaching and Korea in general. With only seven weeks remaining until we leave Dongtan and start the next chapter of our adventure, here are seven things I have learned in my time in Korea so far.

1.) No matter how far away from each other you are, family and friends stay together. Whether we have brief discussions and catch-up sessions via Skype, post meaningless links to each other on Facebook, or get together on grand trips to Australia, it is very easy to keep in touch with one’s family and friends.

2.) Moving away teaches you who your true friends are. It is very easy to maintain friendships when those who you feel are close to you are within close proximity. When you are on the other side of the world, with a time difference of seven hours, and plans need to be made to communicate, it reveals who is willing to take the effort to do so. Some people you chat to on a constant basis. Others you don’t even need to do that much.

3.) Non-verbal communication is extremely powerful. You are trying to buy an incredibly necessary item. The shopkeeper and yourself do not share a common language. You awkwardly flail your hands in what you hope is close enough to an accurate depiction of your necessity. The shopkeeper smiles eagerly. They take you to something completely opposite to what you intended. You wince, smile nervously, and try again until you get it correct. Moments like that help you observe that communication goes so much further than words.

4.) Cleaning cat litter on a daily basis is far cleaner and easier than doing so on a weekly basis. Not to mention cleaner, quicker, and far less smelly.

5.) Coming home and trying to write (or otherwise pursue ones hobbies) is tiring, but rewarding. After nine hours of herding small children in the general direction of education, the idea of performing actions that require further effort is not a pleasant one in the slightest. However, I have produced some of my best work (including the majority of these blog posts) in the evenings after teaching. Sometimes, you just have to do what has to be done. It is worth it in the end.

6.) Cats like nothing more than destroying things. In the time that we have played housekeeper to our two lovely furry babies, our apartment has taken a bit of a beating. They have clawed much of the upholstery. They have removed a panel from underneath the sink. They have scratched the side of our wooden cupboard in their constant jumping atop of it. And they have looked adorable throughout all of it. Annoyingly so.

7.) Things that would be impossible alone are within your reach if you have good support. Neither Kristen nor myself would be here without each other. I would never have gathered the motivation to complete all of the admin necessary to reach Korea. Kristen would have left within the first month without my moral support. I would not have had the courage to move to part-time employment (to focus on my writing and Dota-related endeavours) without Kristen’s reassurances. Together, we are far stronger than we are alone.

I have grown more in this year than I have in a long while. It has not been easy, but with Kristen’s help, I have managed to try and follow my dreams. In the coming months, my pursuit of Internet notoriety will intensify. For now, I am trying to savour the last few days with my current children. They aren’t making it easy – they’re being particularly rowdy and disruptive – but time is passing faster than ever. I can’t wait to see what the future will hold.

‘Sir, You Have No Visa.’

The Australian Immigration Department had a very bizarre and frustrating Christmas gift ready for me at Incheon airport. One moment, I was standing in the queue to check in my baggage, blissfully going about the normal procedure of checking in baggage for a trip to Australia. The next, I was told that I did not have a visa, and would not be able to go on the holiday that I have been looking forward to for months.

The day started off as expected, with checking packing and riding to Incheon with plenty of time to spare. We even saw an Ultimate friend at the airport, which helped to brighten the early part of the day. We chatted briefly. We bid each other farewell. And then we walked to the check-in queue, unaware of the moments of distress that lay ahead.

When the check-in process took longer than expected, I became uneasy. I knew that something was wrong. We had completed the application process perfectly – what could be wrong? Had over a month of application been in vain? The lady
smiled weakly and said: ‘Sir, you have no visa for Australia.’

We frantically searched through our emails, seeking the visa confirmation that we had received from the consulate. Finding it, we discovered that the visa number on the application and the visa number on my passport did not match. I didn’t have a visa for Australia after all. Kristen and I were perplexed as to how this could happen. We had submitted so many forms in the extensive, more than one-month-long process of getting the visa that it seemed illogical that something could still be wrong. Surely these kind of things had to be checked and re-checked before they could be approved? Surely someone had confirmed that the visa number matched the passport number of the person applying for the visa? Apparently not. Apparently it is possible that, even with the innumerable checks and balances in the system, a person can enter the final two digits of a visa incorrectly.

The staff at the Garuda Indonesia desk looked far more calm than I did in the situation. While I was suffering a bout of raging at the system, they were calmly calling the Australian immigration to see if the problem could be rectified. They were put on hold for a long time. The very kind manager reassured me that were still on the line. Ten agonising minutes later, he walked up to us with a smile on his face and said that the visa number was being changed. The crisis was over almost as quickly as it had began. I could breathe again.

From that point, everything seemed to go smoothly and quickly. The usual inconveniences of air travel were like welcome friends. I smiled while standing in customs lines, because I knew that we were getting onto the plane afterwards. Even getting moderately lost in Bali airport was pleasant enough, because we were only a few hours away from our destination and my family.

The final hurdle was clearing the infamous Australian border. I have watched more episodes of ‘Border Security’ than I would like to admit. Each one swirled through my head as we stood in the queue for Immigration. I was expecting stern, unwelcoming faces to meet me and question every small aspect of my trip. What greeted me were smiling, kind people welcoming me into their country. Before I knew it, we were in the car, on the way to the family house.

With a day’s distance, it is easy to see that there is always a solution. When you have been told that your vital document is incorrect, it is easy to fall into despair and frustration, as I did. However, the airport staff have likely seen it all before. Have faith. You could still get there. Merry Belated Christmas, everyone!

Star Wars: Episode VII

Just go see it. Right now. Stop reading this post and just go see it. I am not going to spoil anything for you, because everyone deserves to experience it without having major plot points revealed before they even consider venturing into the theatre. Star Wars is something that I am passionate about, and with the release of the newest major motion picture in the greatest franchise that has ever been, that passion has been stirred in me once more.

I have loved Star Wars for the majority of my life. Some of my earliest memories are of sitting at a family friend’s house, watching Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back. I remember C3-PO sitting, broken into pieces. I remember the music. I remember small details that probably should be taken up with more ‘significant’ information. There was a period of time where I couldn’t watch it at home, because we didn’t have the video tapes.

It was around this time that Episode I: The Phantom Menace came out. I was nine years old at the time. I can recall my feelings in that theatre to this day. It was a school friend’s birthday party. I sat in the darkened room, waiting in anticipation. The moment finally came when the fanfare began to play, and the tale began to be told in yellow words rolling slowly up the screen. I loved every moment of that movie. I even loved Jar Jar Binks, so much so that I regularly spoke Gungan for a long while afterwards. Hey, I was nine okay. We all have our youthful eccentricities.

My love deepened with the release of each of the new prequel trilogy, and with every moment I spent watching the original trilogy on my shiny new DVD player. From Luke’s first steps in exploring the Force, to the climax of Return of the Jedi, to the lightsaber duel at the end of Episode III, I was captivated by the universe created by George Lucas and his team of wizards.

As I got older, I started exploring the Extended Universe, and forming my own opinions with regards to the universe. Han shot first, of course. Jar Jar Binks…well…my love for him ebbed. But my love for the series as a whole only grew deeper. Everyone has the movies that defined them throughout their youth. Amongst mine are the Star Wars films.

When I reached the end of my schooling days and entered university, I found that I was not the only person in my city that was obsessed with the Force. I forged friendships talking about what could have been, what should have been, in the lives of Luke, Leia, Han, and all of the rest of the merry band of rebels. Many of them have lasted to this day, and will likely last the rest of my life.

I owe much of who I am to Star Wars. So, when I say that you should go and see Episode VII, you know that I am a biased source. Maybe you have yet to see a Star Wars movie (like my very own mother). Maybe you know the name of every character in every Episode. Whatever your relationship with Star Wars, go see Episode VII. You may find yourself falling in love, as I have.

Half-Century

So, this lady on my left is 50 years old. It was her birthday yesterday. She is at times wonderful, at times stern, at times highly witty, at times deathly serious. She has been a mentor. She has been a partner in watching more Smallville, The Mentalist, CSI, Bones, and random crime shows than I’d like to admit to. She has helped me push myself when I needed a little encouragement. She has held me back when I needed to exercise caution. She is none other than my mother.

People always use the phrase “mommy’s boy” as a derogatory term for a wimp, someone who always backs out at the last moment, citing some lame excuse. Were I a perfect reflection of my mother, that is far from the person that I would be. My mother knows fear, but she uses it to make herself stronger. When she sees that she is afraid, she knows that she is expanding herself beyond her previous limits. And there is nothing she enjoys more than that.

I have more happy memories with my mother than I can count or try to remember. Everything from grand trips we have taken together (like walking the streets of Paris in the space of two days) to many a lazy night at home, watching some mindless television show, trying to predict whodunnit. She also broke the only bone that has ever been broken in my body by falling onto my leg and causing it to be cleft in twain. She claims that I was being a spoiled brat at the time, making a fuss about a toy another kid got at their birthday party. As I am prone to obsessions, I can believe this. Unlike her supposed, short-lived career as an aerobics instructor.

It will be her birthday celebration on Tuesday evening, and arguably the first such event that I will not be attending. This year is a big year for my family, in terms of birthdays. I turned twenty-five, my little brother turned twenty-one, and my mother turned fifty. The fact that I cannot be with my family to celebrate these milestones is one of the hardest parts of working abroad. I am sure it will get easier, but missing such major celebrations does dampen my spirits a little as they roll around. Tuesday will be a sad, lonely day in Korea.

I wish I could be there, but I can’t. Having two week’s leave at inflexible times of the year is the bane of every teacher in Korea’s existence. My thoughts will be far away from the small children I take care of on that day. They will be centred around the cozy home and school where all of our closest friends and family will gather to celebrate my mom’s and my brother’s birthday. So, until we meet again in less than two weeks, I say this to you, mom:

I love you. Never change who you are. I’m sorry about turning your hair brown because you became pregnant with me. I can’t wait to see you again.

Once More Unto the Job Market, Dear Friends

The prospect of next year is looming large on the minds of both Kris and I, for differing reasons.  Kris is worried that we simply won’t get the jobs that we desire most, and will risk sacrificing things that we are currently demanding from a position. I, on the other hand, am more worried about what will happen after we get the job, particularly about whether my decision to switch to part-time work will pay off in the long run. So, things are tense. It’s a good thing Christmas is almost here.

We are being a good deal more specific with our job requirements this time around. We are looking for a full-time job for Kristen, a part-time job for me, in one of three cities where there is Ultimate Frisbee, that provides a decent salary. This is considerably more onerous than the ‘Well…I’d like to go to Korea. Busan would be nice, but I’m not fussy’ that was our requirement last year. This has Kris more than a little worried. She fears that we will not be able to get such a combination, and will have to accept a job that does not meet all of them. This is most certainly a valid fear. We compromised last year, so what’s to stop us doing so this year?

I am not nearly as worried about this particular aspect of the plans for next year. Even though we are being picky, we have experience now (not much, but it’s something) and we are already in Korea. They will not have to pay the expense to get us here, because we’re already here. This will make us a more appealing prospect to recruiters and potential companies. I feel that this is sufficient to allow us to be more demanding. I hope that I am not proved wrong.

My main anxiety lies beyond day 1 of the new job. I am electing to switch to part-time teaching (purely to maintain a visa and earn some form of income) and use the extra time to write and cast Dota2. Many may say that this is a not smart decision. However, I have been mulling it over for the last few months, and I feel that both writing and casting are careers to which I am far better suited than teaching. Right now, I am trying to squeeze them in alongside nine hours of full-time employment. I come home exhausted, and still need to try and put my best effort into things that I am genuinely passionate about. This arrangement is not what it should be.

I have discussed it with Kris, and she is kind enough to support me. So, next year, I will be earning a small amount of money, but hopefully become much richer in reputation and talent for casting and writing.

Next year is likely to be a pivotal one for my life (aren’t they all). I am choosing to sacrifice some reliable income and pursue things I am passionate about. I know not whether they will come to fruition, or simply prove a charming failure. But I want to take the chance and try. I want to put myself out there. And every step of the way, you, my loyal readers, will know how it is going.

Fellowships, Old and New

To come to Korea, Kris and I left our South African friends behind. It was a painful thing to do for both of us. While we may not have the widest friendship circles, we have formed deep bonds with a number of people. It is the desire to see these friends and our families that is the primary force drawing us back to South Africa. However, as we have spent more time in Korea, we have bonded with others here. Sadly, this weekend, we had to say goodbye to a pair that we have grown remarkably fond of. Even though we only knew them for a couple of months, we forged a friendship that will (hopefully) last a long time.

The lovable gent in the cover photo is Holm. He is a scholar, a gentleman, and, occasionally, a model for the fashion properties of pumpkin pie. It is Holm and his lovely girlfriend Kristy that we had to say goodbye to.We spent yesterday with them, doing what we love to do best – eating, playing board games, and talking about everything and nothing. We met at a sushi restaurant, walked over to play Munchkin at a nearby bakery, then ventured to a Western-style restaurant for our final meal together. It was a fitting end to chapter one of our friendship. When we parted, I was fighting off tears. I will miss them both immensely.

Today, on the other hand, was a day of bonding for both Kris and I. Kris went to have a bitch and stitch (a feminine gathering where they knit and catch up) with one of her close friends, Robyn. She will also be leaving Korea next March, but that is a tale for another post. I spent my day writing and gaming, before Kris returned home and we had a Skype session with this scalliwag:

Findlay Matheson. The only thing longer than his hair is his influence in my life. Findlay is my oldest friend. He and I often spend hours talking about inanities that most of humanity would abandon after mere moments. Tonight’s Skype was a brief discussion about his brother’s partner’s pregnancy, general catch-up, and an intricate discussion of XCOM: Enemy Unknown. Yes, we have our priorities completely correct. Words, even my words, cannot describe how much this man means to me.

Friends are important in keeping ourselves sane. Or at least suitably, functionally insane. New friends such as Holm and Kristy and old friends such as Findlay help me keep touch with exactly how much we have accomplished in our time in Korea. This is a formative part of my life, with decisions that I make now likely having far-reaching implications into my future. With friends like these, I know I will be guided on the correct path for me. They say if one can hold a friendship for seven years, it will last a lifetime. I have been friends with Findlay for more than twenty. I foresee Holm and Kristy reaching similar lengths. I cannot wait for the moments that I will share with these, and all of our other, friends in the future.

Whether we stay in Korea for a long time or come home after our next contract, it is friends that will help us along the way, and friends that will be there to cheer us on as we reach our dreams. Whatever the future holds, Kris and I will face it with input from our friends. Thank you for always being there for us.

Stretched Thin

This week was another week of upturns in the outlook of our school. Several new children began class in the kindergarten section, two of which landed in my class. While this may be good for the school, it will remain to be seen whether it is good for my sanity and the dynamic within the class. On Friday I felt more tired than I had been in a long while. Having to get up and do writing yesterday felt like more of a chore than it had ever been. I have even neglected this blog for longer than I have ever done. Here’s hoping that this is not a sign for the weeks to come – I don’t want to feel completely drained of any will to do things outside of teaching.

The first new student in my class arrived on Thursday. At first, he was remarkably shy, but after a few lessons he perked up, and proved himself to be intelligent and good at almost all aspects of schooling. His writing is neat, he works well, and his phonics and grammar are up amongst the best in the class. I can see some problems coming in the future, as he is a very high-energy child who is quickly bored and does not handle boredom well. I will have to up my game when it comes to providing activities in the classroom.

The second new child arrived on Friday morning. A girl this time, she was, like the first new boy, quite shy at first. After the first lesson, she had not said anything apart from her name. The other children were even asking if she could speak. As the day wore on, she perked up a little. Her level of English is not as good as the new boy’s, but it is within the realm of possibility for their age and level of exposure to English. She tends to use Korean a fair amount and seems to require a lot of attention from me. Perhaps this will change when she bonds with the rest of the class.

Managing five children is far more tiring than managing three. Whereas I previously could trust at least one student to be able to complete the tasks that I give to them by themselves and bounce between the other two children, this will no longer be sufficient. I will have to adapt my style of teaching to better deal with the challenges of having a bigger class. Doing so is exhausting.

I woke up at 09h30 yesterday and 10h00 today, far later than I normally do, even on the weekend. Following this, I elected to laze in bed rather than do things such as writing (this blog and freelance writing) or casting. I feel a little disappointed in myself that I neglected these responsibilities. While teaching is my job for now, these activities are my avenues for the future, and I must be careful not to let the road become dusty from lack of travel. I have far to go in all of these, and not taking a few steps now may prove to be a big stumbling point in the future.

I did end up writing three articles yesterday and this post today, so it is not all doom and gloom. Apart from that, I played Dota and BioShock, watched Downton Abbey and Rick and Morty, and generally had a relaxing weekend. It was made less enjoyable by the clouds of not having done things and school on Monday hanging over it all, but it has been an enjoyable weekend nonetheless.

Now please excuse me while I enjoy the last few hours of it. How will I spend it? Hopefully with a combination of productivity and merriment. Most importantly, it will be spent with Kristen, and that is more than enough cause for me to keep smiling for the rest of the day.

All in Time

I have a good ear for timing in music. This arose largely because I hardly ever practiced the tuba, my main instrument, outside of official rehearsals. This meant I had to be able to precisely time when I came in. If I messed up my timing, the entire song would be ruined by a single loud FWARP. I used to adopt a similar approach in life, waiting for the precisely correct moment to complete a particular task. This usually meant doing things at the last minute.

I procrastinate. It used to be one of the defining characteristics of who I was. At university, I would leave assignments until the point at which no normal human should be able to churn out whatever word count was necessary. Teaching and managing my activities outside of teaching has helped me reign in the desire to just do it tomorrow. Now, most of the time, I’m just doing it.

Insert obligatory meme here

I am teaching for 9 hours of my day. Last week, we had open class to prepare for and deliver, two major tests to administer, and submission deadlines for material for next month’s classes. When I get home, I often make dinner. Most days, I write a freelance writing piece and/or a piece for GosuGamers. This past week was particularly intense in terms of this. I submitted one large piece of freelance writing (2000 words is large, okay), stayed up until at least 3am on Friday and Saturday to cover the past Dota Major for Gosu and spend 3 hours casting my first competitive Dota series in a long while.

After I managed to get all of these things done, not missing a single deadline, I spent the majority of Sunday…procrastinating. I had one last deadline for Sunday, and I spent it watching Downton Abbey, playing Dota, and Skyping an old friend. You know what they say about old habits. I still didn’t miss the deadline, though.

While some of these projects yield more immediate rewards, like being paid money to write as a freelancer, others are more long-term investments. Writing for GosuGamers builds up my network within the Dota community. I hope to one day use some of these connections to fast-track my casting career. Either that, or be offered a paid job for the site. To be honest, I could think of little better than sitting and writing about the game that I love and actually getting paid for it.

All of these endeavours make me realize that I have become far less lackadaisical about what I want to do with life. I want to write. I want to have the game that is my passion, Dota, involved. I don’t want to be wrangling small children for 9 hours a day. It’s not bad work, don’t get me wrong. I just know it’s not really for me. Maybe next year I will work with older children, and I will find that far more stimulating.

For now, I will continue to fill my after-work hours with a fine balance between work, Dota-related endeavours, and procrastination. And I could think of nothing better. I hope that you all find your time signature. I can’t say I’ve found mine yet. All I’ve done is started to listen to my own song a little closer.