meandering thoughts on a friday afternoon

I've already passed the quarter of a century mark and yet since I've left home I've never lived in one place for more than 2 years. I've been running back and forth between college and home, graduate school and bartending, and now Korea and Europe. As I've set my eyes on the next path I've never considered that destination as anything more than a year or two stopover on my way to the next thing.

It's weird to think that many of my friends are becoming married, having children, moving in with their significant others, planting roots. Not weird in any sort of a judgmental sense, just different from what I've been doing. What I am doing. What I will be doing.

There's nothing novel about this. I'm not trying to romanticize the feeling either. It's not some sort of dramatic, adventurous, and enticing life style. I'm not privileged enough to never have concerns about finances, or to be able to go literally anywhere I want. I don't subscribe to the sickening philosophy of wanderlust, romantic solo treks for the sole purpose of self-fulfillment, or some sort of skewed perception of what it actually means to live abroad for a long period of time. I don't cast shade on my friends who have stability, who have bought homes, new cars, and Haustieren. I wish I had a dog. I had just purchased a brand new car before I impulsively decided to leave the country a year and a half ago. There are nights where I want to be home, near my family, with my old friends.

But that's not what I do. Or rather, that's not what I've been doing and what my life has become. This is why even now, as I book a ticket to Europe, I am doing mental acrobatics as I try to wrap my mind around the idea that I will be staying there for a while. For the foreseeable future. For an extended period of time. This is why these thoughts are borderline incomprehensible to me. At my undergrad I lived in the dorms for two years, two different rooms, at the house of a friend's uncle, in a worn down old house with three friends that was condemned and torn down the year after I graduated. After this I went to graduate school where I lived in the same apartment for two years, the longest time in one place since high school. I'm finishing a year in Korea about to run away to Stuttgart. I set up countdowns, set my sights on the future, and have internalized the most efficient method of counting down my time while simultaneously enjoying myself and making it fly by extraordinarily fast.

Even 12+ hour flights have lost their dreary drag and lengthy exhaustion. Now I get on the plane and have internalized the process: take off, ten minutes to seatbelt sign off, ten minutes to water or snacks, naptime, movie time, naptime, writing, a meal, naptime, writing, another drink (maybe wine this time), a movie or two, another meal, another movie, seatbelt sign on, landing. I don't look at my watch, I just wait for the flight attendants to signal what stage of the trip we are on - are they giving out drinks or food? have they passed out landing cards, arrival cards, customs declarations? are they waking people up to set their seats at 90 degrees to prepare for the decent? - and I resign myself to a weary half-asleep slumber mixed in with brief moments of clarity, writing, observation.

The skill of making time fly by seems to be coming with age, which makes sense. When you're 8 you've only seen 8 summers come and go, so that three month period between May and September feels like the greatest extended vacation. As we get older we try to grasp onto these brief spans of time that are feeling shorter and shorter in comparison to the months that we have lived. This may be why I could look you in the eye and say that one year isn't a long time to be on different continents from my boyfriend. This might explain my shameless desire to just run away to another side of the world for a little while. 12 months is nothing. 365 days is brief in comparison to the 9,371 that I've lived.

But here I am, landing seasonal positions in a country that I want to call my home. Booking tickets to an area where the language barrier will be more than a temporary annoyance, where I want and need to immerse myself and become fluent because I will be there for more than a year. Here I am trying to find a way to create stability in my life. Here I am, trying to move forward by planting roots somewhere.

And yet here I am, wondering if the moment I get where I want to be going I can't spend more than a year or two in that place before feeling the itch to move on. How do you find a place and stay there, how do you avoid wondering what it would be like somewhere else? Without the finances to travel the world on lengthy vacations?

I suppose it all depends on who I'm with, how I feel, and whether the place that I'm going is indeed where I want to be.

It all depends on my future definition of "me."

On the Feeling of Futility

How do you do it, my fellow Americans? How do you hold yourself back, bite your tongue, stay in your lane? I know you’re out there. I know that these gun crimes which have been increasing with such regularity that the tactless anonymous person on the internet joking that December’s massacre happened early and that maybe there will be another one squeezed in before Christmas holidays begin leads you not to rage at his cruelty but rather to sadly hoping that’s not true. But not doubting that it might be.

You see it so often you don’t know what to do. The politicians continue to pray away and react to the problem and save face by showing support and remorse for those involved. You watch them offer their well wishes, hoping the victims will stay strong, the police will do their job, and that they can continue to pretend that they will be an effective president.

How do you do it? How do you keep from divisive political rants? The gun violence, rampant racism, pervasive sexism, and ignorant classism (just to name a few) – how do you keep it off your newsfeed? Off your wall? Out of your conversations?

When one of the few speaks up on your newsfeed they are attacked – they are called extremists, crazy left wing liberals, surely there is something wrong with them, they want to take away our rights, and anyways, why should we punish Honest Hard-working Harry who simply wants to take his gun out and kill some helpless animals?

How do you ignore it? You’re passionate, you’re educated, you’ve anticipated the typical responses and addressed them. You've drafted a lengthy response, you've bared your true feelings, you are prepared to hit “share” “send” or “post.” But then you take a deep breath, delete it, and continue to scroll through your newsfeed.

It's obvious, you see. You don’t want to cause an argument, you don’t want to be pulled into a mindless feud with someone who refuses to see the other side of the argument, someone who refuses to be inconvenienced in anyway, and who is incapable of questioning the necessity of a hobby that perhaps their parents had passed on to them.

How do you hide your truth, your perspective, your beliefs? When did you become a passive observer, when did the futility of change become so embedded in you that you can’t even attempt to sway the opinions of close friends and family?

It happened gradually. Your youthful vigor has been deadened. Your eyes are dulled. You've learned that it’s too easy to avoid confrontation and a messy argument. There’s so much anger and darkness in the world, you rationalize, why bother bringing a heavy cloud over the skies of my friends, my family, my world?

You scroll on through, lurking in the background watching the events that will define your life, your country, and the lives of your children.

Because clearly, there’s nothing else you can do.

On Anxiety - Overcoming Uncertainty

I feel nauseous and have to fight back the tears threatening to burst. The butterflies in my stomach are making me sick and I can’t breathe. My hands are shaking as my eyes dart wildly around the room.

The edges of my consciousness frantically scramble; clawing and tearing at the last sliver of control that is rapidly being blown beyond my reach. My fingertips feel bloody and raw when I am suddenly overwhelmed by the futility of my effort and the grasping becomes half hearted, eventually stopping altogether.

I shudder and fold over, fold inwards, hiding inside of myself.

With no control and half blind with fear I hold my breath as the strange wind continues to rage. It tears around me, propelling me forward, farther into the unknown. But where is it taking me?

A single tear slips out, immediately torn off my face.

There’s no turning back now.

Gritting my teeth I widen my eyes and take a step forward. 

Suddenly the wind stops. 

I can breathe again. 

One step at a time.

one foot in front of the other

When I flew home for my brother’s wedding in September I took the opportunity to replace some of my things. I brought a bunch of clothes from Busan that I never wore and in return I grabbed a huge stack of flute music, some pans and tea balls from my kitchen, some books, a pillow, and a few other miscellaneous items.

I also chose to bring some posters to put up in my new home, even though I knew I would only be here for a few more months. One is a replica of Van Gogh’s starry night – a beautiful blue poster featuring bold brush strokes and an unidentified couple near the river with a city landscape and starry sky on the horizon. It’s a poster I bought at a tumultuous personal time and it has always had a soothing effect on me. Continuing with this blue theme I brought back a piece of spray paint art that I bought on my first trip to New York. It is old and battered and may soon be thrown away, but it reminds me of the sense of excitement and energy I had for traveling, for being somewhere new and different. It reminds me of the first time I forsook a grim practicality with finances and chose to go out on a limb and buy a ticket for the experience, rather than pass it up for the financial stability.

The third poster is the most important one for me, as of late.

It's an image of an androgynous shadowy figure running through the woods at twilight with a quote from Carlos Castaneda stating: "We either make ourselves miserable, or we make ourselves strong. The amount of work is the same."

I put it on the wall next to my music stand near the door. Every morning I walk by it as I prepare for the day. Every night I glance at it as I begin a practice session. It’s in front of me as I do yoga each day.

It’s my reminder that everyday should be a step forward. It doesn't have to be a huge leap, you can inch forward by choosing to do some small thing with a positive impact on your daily life, or you can charge forward with abandon and redefine who you are. But know that if you choose to do nothing, if you choose to dwell in some sense of stasis and lethargy, you are actively making yourself miserable. Even if it feels to you as if you are simply not actively bettering yourself, you are choosing to be in a way that does not resonate with who you are.

That’s not to say that you can’t take personal days, even from yourself. Sometimes we need time to recharge.

But each day we make a choice, strength or misery, forward or backward, yes or no.

For me, today was a small step. I drafted, edited, and submitted an application to a music school in Zurich. It was only one application. It was for a position that isn’t hiring and might not even look over my information and I had to sacrifice my flute time to do it.

But I can rest easy tonight knowing that there is one more chance for employment, one more opportunity for the future, thanks to that one hour of focused work.

I can approach my yoga mat feeling calm and ready to embrace this strength – a mental fortitude or optimism and effort that will easily transfer into the physical strength required for my yoga practice.

I can sleep with a sense of accomplishment rather than a pervasive sense of unease. For the little things are what make you feel that you have control. I am not a wait-er, I am a do-er and I attribute this fact to any success I’ve had up to this point. When I begin to feel stressed butterflies soaring in my stomach before going to sleep at night I know that something needs to happen.

Even if it’s a little thing. 

A Sober October

I’ve challenged myself to quit drinking, possibly for the foreseeable future but definitely for the month of October. This challenge has been added to my previous decision to incorporate daily some form of physical exercise, flute study, French and German practice, and personal meditation. Combined with my renewed focus on proper nutrition and sleep habits and I can honestly say I've never felt better. 

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This body of mine was not intended for a desk job. I am not built to sit in one position all day long, hunched over a screen, trying to work ahead on the computer.

I can no longer spend my weekends wallowing in bed all day before leaping up to go sit on a barstool all night. My body does not appreciate those long mornings and afternoons wasted from the night before. They say drinking borrows happiness from the following days and this has never been more true. I can't continue to treat my body, the only one I will ever have, this way.

When I returned from my trek in India I had never felt better. The food I was eating was unprocessed, simplistic, and whole. I was extremely well hydrated thanks to countless cups of tea and bottles of water, and my body was being used to the peak of its physical potential. I hadn’t had a headache in two weeks and I was ecstatic.

I thought it was the food, water, and exercise. Don’t get me wrong, it was all of those things. But perhaps it was also the lack of alcohol. This next month I've decided to test that. Although I am not an alcoholic, I only drink socially on weekends and over long breaks, I am interested to see how completely eliminating alcohol from my diet will effect me. 

So far, so good. This morning I ran 8km. I did not plan it, I just woke up and felt the need to run today. So after drinking some preparatory water and having a small bowl of cereal I laced up my tennis shoes and ran out the door. I stretched myself. I opened up my stride and just let myself go. My hips, back, legs, and neck felt better and better with each step. I did some sprints for fun, to see just how long and even each pace could be, to remind myself of what my body is capable of. I listened to my body and responded by walking when my knee started to hurt. I enjoyed the morning for what it was: a pain free moment in which I could revel in the sheer physicality of my body. It was a positive, healthy, and active start to my day; a moment to breathe in the semi-fresh (read: polluted) air; a symbolic transition into a new phase of my life as I embrace health, conscious dietary choices, and a wholehearted pursuit of my career as a musician.

I feel more optimistic about my potential and my future than ever before, which is ironic considering the fact that these next few months are some of the most unstable, uncertain, and unreliable ones of my life so far.

I want to let the terrible migraines that wipe me out for days on end be the reminder to enjoy the days where I am completely healthy. I want to prove to myself that I can continue to progress and become a more accomplished musician. I want to see what happens to my body as I listen to it more fully, following what it wants and not what I do. I want to be happy.

So it's time to be selfish and do what I want for me. That time came long ago, but I didn't listen. Now I can no longer ignore it. I'm 25 years old, a quarter of a century, and my life is mine. It's time to start living my own life, rather than letting life happen to me.

You should do the same. 

because nobody is perfect

It is kind of fascinating taking a step back and analyzing your mindset and reactions towards the world around you. These last two months have been so undeniably wonderful and satisfying that it is only natural for me to be falling into a bit of a slump now that I am back to work.

But this morning I allowed myself to dwell in a negative and unhappy attitude for much longer than I normally would let happen. Everything was bothering me. The people staring at their cell phones while walking and swerving into me all over the sidewalk, the businesses with irregular hours, the elderly women slamming into me as I wait for a bus, the guys on the bus taking up three quarters of the seat and pushing me into the window. The sun. The air. The traffic.

Everything. Grated. On. Me.

I wanted to leave. If I didn’t have this bit of credit card debt I might have. Book a one way ticket, end up somewhere you want to be, propel your career forward rather than staying in this slump. These were my thoughts. As if transporting myself from here to there would magically fix my attitude. As if Korea was the problem instead of my mindset.

As if I had no control over myself, my attitude, or my future while I was in this country.

Fortunately I was able to dislodge my head from the deep crevices of my body before I ruined my entire day.

The beauty of my life is that I am living abroad, I’m surrounded by a new culture, I’m working with awesome, strange, and sometimes overwhelming schools, teachers, and students. I’m doing something that, although I don’t intend to do forever, I am able to find happiness and joy in. And I am also able to look forward to the future and move myself in a direction I can be proud of.

Sometimes all I want is to let myself dwell in negativity and unhappiness. Wishing I were somewhere else, wishing I was doing something else, wishing for something other than I have, regardless of what it is. But this is such a wasted energy and ambition because when I am in that magical “other place” I am going to have the same bad days, the same mornings waking up on the wrong side of the bed and slamming my head against the wall, the same unhappiness. What matters is how I turn those days around.

If my experiences here were really terrible, if nothing made me happy and I had no reason to stay - I would not hesitate to hop on a plane. If I found something else that I wanted to do, something that was more focused on me and my dreams and passions I would take less than two hours to pack all of my things and be out of this country. If there was no reason for me to stay then I would be gone.

But there are so many reasons for me to be where I am. Even if sometimes that reason is simply to remind myself that I don’t need to live an ideal, utopian life in order to be happy, or to tell myself that I can keep my focus and passion moving forward regardless of personal circumstances. There are so many reasons for me to be where I am.

Sometimes I just need to tell myself to be happy and yes, it’s as simple as that.

But it helps when some of your classes are cancelled and your students are all taking a giant ballet lesson in the auditorium. Really, Korea? Sometimes you know exactly how to make my day.

Living Unapologetically

I'm not the first expatriate, immigrant, or tourist to find myself treading carefully in a new culture. The last thing I want to do is offend the people that are my neighbors, no matter how long I intend to stay in a certain place. Whether a week in India, a year in Busan, or a lifetime in the states, I have always tried to live my life in a way that is harmonious to the lives of others around me. Courtesy. Empathy. Compassion. I don't want to make someone feel uncomfortable because of something I have said or done.

This mindset has never before bubbled so close to the surface with such consistency as it has the last six months here in Korea. I've been careful about how I eat, what I eat, what I wear, where I put my chopsticks after my meal, how I greet people. Almost every element of daily life that I take for granted when home I have been hypersensitive to as I find myself in such a drastically different place.

I'm not saying that is not a bad thing. That is how I have learned to live in the Korean way (or as close to it as a non-Korean speaking foreigner can).

However, at some point I have let this sensitivity to these cultural differences stop me from living my life. I have let my new city stop me from doing the things I want to do to live forward and work ahead in my career.

As this page is titled, I am a wandering musician. I play the flute. I am a classically trained orchestral musician. With this title comes a huge responsibility: practicing. Practicing daily. Practicing when you don't want to. Practicing the things that sound terrible. Running drills, scales, arpeggios. Technical work that I love. Long tones that are low. Long tones that are high. Long tones that seem like they will never end. Breathing exercises. Yoga. Meditation.

The first six months in Korea I barely touched my flute. I felt a bit lost. I was caught up trying to figure out my future career because I was ignoring the one that I truly loved. I was trying to change who I am into something I'm not.

This is not Koreas fault. I am not blaming my location.

Instead it was a complex culmination of countless different factors that have been building since before I finished my Masters degree. But therein lies a different blogpost.

Right now I'm looking forward. I've stopped being afraid of offending my neighbors and have picked up my instrument again. I'm applying for festivals, masterclasses, and orchestral auditions. I'm practicing (within decent hours), I'm exercising (outside of those decent hours), and I'm living my life in the truest form that I can.

You see I'm still being sensitive to my neighbors. I don't play my flute before 8 am or after 9 pm. I refrain from high piccolo work in my apartment (because really, nobody deserves that torture). I'm still conscious of cultural difference and carry myself in a way that resonates with these new cultural norms. But I am no longer changing all of who I am to make sure that others are happy. This was never my intention, but it was essentially what was happening.

It's time for me to do me. It's time for me to live shamelessly because that is who I am.

It's time to live unapologetically.