Why America beats the snot out of Korea

When I was in Korea a week or two ago, there were a couple punk kids sitting across the room at Pizza School, the get-together for all the local gangs. There was some show going on the TV about Korean independence, and, without so much as considering that perhaps some white people can speak Korean, one of these LOL-saturated punks launched into a tirade of anti-Americanism. Of course, I could have told him that I understood every word he said, but I decided to listen to his turdiness. His rant went a little something like this:

"Yeah, America would be super easy to take. All we have to do is fly over, find their tallest mountain, send in a plane with a few guys, and stick the Korean flag in it. No, I don't know where that mountain is, but it can't be too hard to find, I mean, it's a mountain, right. Naw, don't mind those two white guys, they don't understand what I'm speaking. Do they look Korean? Anyway, America. You know what their problem is...?"

And so it went.

Now, as you can all tell from the American flag tattooed on the bottom of my left heel, I LOVE AMERICA. So today, I want to reflect on all the reasons we could beat Korea.

1. Everyone in this country has a gun.

In Korea, nobody carries guns. Not even to Walmart. They don't even have Walmart! In America, we are armed to the teeth, no matter where we go.

2. We have a much cooler flag than the Koreans.

The flag is the emblem of a country, the mouthpiece of patriotism. The American flag is deeply filled with meaningful symbolism. 13 Colonies? 13 stripes. 50 states? Let's put 50 stars on that sucker. The Korean flag, on the other hand?

Look at this thing. What's represented on here? Some yin-yang deal and a bunch of poorly-broken twix bars. They even stole our colors. The most valuable thing about this flag is as an example on how to avoid symmetry. 

3. Our soldiers are more well-trained. 

You know what Koreans do? League of Legends. You know what you do in League of Legends? Honestly, I don't know either, but I know something something monster fight magic. You know what American teenagers do? They cuss each other out on Call of Duty. That teaches all Americans, from the time they're 11, all vital skills they will need to keep America great.In addition, all those hours blasting Nazi Zombies contribute to an increased immunity to the effects of Mountain Dew. If we can survive that, we can certainly survive a Korean invasion.

AMERICA IS THE BEST

I don't even know

 Well, internet. It's been a long time since we last talked. A lot has happened. A lot of it isn't going to hit the face of the web. But rest assured, I am alive. I'm a bit college kid now, off doing big college things. It still hasn't quite sunk in yet. The reason I've neglected this blog wasn't because my life was boring, but because it wasn't. Like I said, a lot of stuff has happened, and a lot of it has been cool stuff. The tricky thing is narrowing down all this stuff into a form I can wrap myself around. It's a daunting task. But I'll try.

The first thing that college is good at teaching you is that you're small. When you're in a class with over 700 students, it's phenomenally easy to tell. All through high school, I sat in classes surrounded by kids I had known for years, and teachers who could name everyone in there. Now, I was lost in a sea of faces. The funny thing was I discovered that it wasn't altogether bad. In fact, it's rather refreshing in a way. As a speck, you are free to focus on the material being presented, rather than worrying about how you appear to your fellow students. Not only is this nice for a relief of responsibility, but it also rules out one of the more annoying types of kids in the class. The Belligerent.

We all know this kid. He's the one who is so talented, it would be a waste for the world to pass on unaware. So The Belligerent bravely raises his hand every time, showing that he, unlike the mere mortals surrounding him, has obtained a complete knowledge of the field of study. The Belligerent is unafraid, and eagerly puts it on display. At the beginning of each class period, he blabbers on loudly, making the room aware of just the sort of person he is. The Belligerent also uses his lack of fear to great effect when he challenges the teacher, displaying his great skills at logic in a no-doubt flawless argument.

The nice thing about the seas of kids is that The Belligerent gets swallowed up. He loudly shows off, but only his immediate peers hear him. His charming effect leaves no mark on the teacher. His grade, like that of everyone else in the class, is based on what shows up on the paper. His power means nothing, and he finds, like those around him, that his quest for status was unfruitful.

So yeah. This post turned out to be a rant about a kind of kid I don't like. Hope that's okay.

A Long Overdue Post

Ladies and Gentlemen, I continue to be alive. November has been a busy month, but a good one. Life continues in a similar fashion. The last couple of weeks have been some of the most overwhelming and most exciting in my life. Things go well.

Deep thoughts or something? Yeah. I can do that. Today's question is: "Eli, what drives you?"

Of course, the classic response would be something about how I prefer to bike, but that joke is both corny and untrue. In response to this question, I found that I have chauffeurs. I rarely ever am driven by myself. Self-motivation is something that's hard to find and even harder to understand. What I am driven by is others. Not by their expectations. You can yell at me all you want, and nothing is going to change. What drives me is the competition.

This realization was weird. I am far from a Type A personality, partially due to how they don't exist. Also due to the way I try to be laid-back and passive with my dealings among my fellow men. However, under this calm facade, I found that it is one-uppery that drives me. For months now, I've been looking back on my elementary school days. Why was I such a better student then than I am now? The answer: I wanted to be the best. Not some "my personal best" crap. The best.

Toolish? A little. But my drive was never to stick a crown on my head. It was legitimately for self-gain. I have found that it is this competition that shaped me, not into a tyrant, but somebody who could get a shot at the glory. It wasn't just trying to be a better debater. It was trying to be the best debater. I didn't want to just learn Chinese. I wanted to speak with more fluidity and eloquence than anyone in my class. I was not as successful as I had hoped, but I did well.

So the next time you see me alpha-maling or scrambling to stick myself at the top of the heap, don't take it personally.

The I'm Not Dead Post

Let the world know I'm alive. It's been a busy month, so I haven't been able to post very often. But I am now. Relish it. I might not post again until December. A few thoughts in the interim:

Today, it rained. Not the gentle rain that sprinkles down, leaving you nearly untouched. Not the torrential downpours that sting every nerve, letting you know that you're alive. That miserable in between rain that comes down slow and wet. The kind that plops down the back of your shirt, giant drops that soak through and leave an explosion of water where they hit. Not a lovely thing. I don't know where I'm going with this.

I can't decide if doing something every day is really easy or really hard. At some point, it becomes routine, and you just roll with it. But getting to that point is immensely difficult.

Having to share your time makes you value it more.

You may not think it, but your parents are probably incredibly similar to you. Take some time to try and catch them when they're off-duty. You'll find that they're pretty cool people.

Korean is hard.

Hostess is going out of business, and it means absolutely nothing to me. So many things happen, things that may be tragedies to some, and we don't care. That's okay, but it's a strange thought that there are cries of chubby kids across the United States, wailing for their twinkies.

Most people are willing to do things for you if you ask.

Those who point out the faults of others usually have more serious problems.

These points are becoming more and more vague, so I'll draw the line here. Until next time. Peace.

Understanding

Here's something to think about: you live on a planet with seven billion other people. Several billion more existed before you, and several billion are still on their way. Each and every one of them has a life just as deep as yours. And each and every one of these lives will carry on, whether you're watching or not.

Now consider this: Each one of these people sees life through a different set of eyes than you.They each have a different life, a set of millions of instances and choices that led to the culmination of where they are today. These  are deep and intricate webs of experience, and there is nobody on Earth who matches you.

This leads to my big thought. There are countless other people out there. And you can't understand a single one. Try as we might, we have our own lens we view the world through. When you think you know somebody, it's not true. What you know is the caricature you invented, the mask you superimposed over their true self. This is not a bad thing. It's the best way we have to understand each other, so we might as well use it. Even so, it's important to realize that out of all the people out there, we know exactly one of them.

Of course, this thought will disturb us every now and again. Knowing only ourselves is a bit disturbing. So we try to improve, and live other lives. It's why we read, watch TV, play video games, learn. We want to get a brief glimpse of another life, so we try to live it vicariously. Sometimes, we want more than just a snapshot. We want to know somebody as well as we know ourselves. Of course, this is a momentous task. But we attempt it and name it love. Sometimes, people succeed. Watch the mannerisms of an old couple if you don't believe me, and that brings me joy.

But no matter what we do, you will still run into a thousand people in your lifetime, and each will have a story as intricate as yours. Chances are you won't give most of them any more attention than you would a spare nickle. All those lives, and you might understand one.

Food for thought.

Concerning Meeting People

This weekend was the rookie debate tournament, perhaps my favorite of the year. A) I don't have to do anything and B) I get a chance to meet all the novices.

This second one is what the weekend is really about. For the six weeks beforehand, I sit in the same classroom as the novices, watching them toil away at their work. It's cute, really, observing them doing their best, unaware of the much lower Varsity work ethic. I see them, and they see me. Occasionally, I might be called on to edit a speech or offer a pointer on how to speak. But by and large, we don't interact. We stay in our cliques, divided by experience level, and work independently.

Then the first tournament comes, and the walls break down. The novices get a terrifying first dose of experience, and the Varsity members are whisked away to judge. At once, the rest of the league is visible to your team. There is no more novice or varsity, only teammates who are suddenly surrounded with people as new to this as they are. It's exciting and scary, and the team gathers around two or three or five tables in a corner. Any class division is thrown to the wind as the competition fills up most of the room. Immediately, I find myself asking the novices how their rounds went, trying to recall the names of judges they should be wary of or opponents that are welcome pushovers.

This process starts out of duty more than anything else, but quickly evolves into something more. Something clicks. I'm surrounded by a bunch of people who I've shared a class with since September, but I know nothing more than their face. Our talks of rounds quickly degenerates into small talk, and I find that I've suddenly increased the number of people I call friends.

Making friends is cool. I tend to forget this until I get an opportunity to make a bunch at once. So often, I focus on people I don't like. This weekend was one of those times when I got to meet a bunch of people I do. I have learned that when I am surrounded by people you don't like, it's because of circumstance. When I'm surrounded by people I like, it's because I actively pursue them. One of my biggest regrets, I realize, is that I was too passive through high school. I think I missed out on a lot of potentially cool people this way.

I changed that this weekend. And I think I made some amazing acquaintances. It was a great weekend.

The Backpackless Day

Before I begin this post, I'm going to share my excitement. My blog now has seven followers. That's like really cool. A special welcome to those I may or may not have had the pleasure of meeting in real life: Andy Sp-something: the apologizing bandit, and the enigmatically named CHINA. I'm pretty sure it's not the PRC stalking my blog, seeing as they mainly use their blog to recommend English books, but you can never be too careful. CHINA, I'll let you know that your government is really cool and stuff and please don't block me from your country. As for Andy Sp-something, she has a post up on the 23rd. That's tomorrow, folks. Being able to update a blog from the future is pretty impressive.

Okay, thank yous over. Time for the meat of this post.

On Wednesday of last week, I had an idea. It occurred to me that I had no homework to turn in, I probably wouldn't need my calculator that day, and that paper is pretty easy to slough. Days like this don't come along every day. So I did what any self-respecting back would do, I abandoned my backpack with reckless abandon.

It felt as if a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Not just the literal kind either. I was free to dart through the hallways, a third of my usual girth. It was liberating, watching everyone else lumber through the hallway. Free from the slight ache my shoulders usually endures, I felt almost gleeful. Not an emotion I usually associate with high school.

At the same time, though, I was vulnerable. I was armed with a single pen, and entirely dependent upon those around me for paper. When I received a worksheet, I had to make sure to guard it from the wind. Freedom comes with a price.

I don't know why I told you this story. Maybe you will.

Peace. There very well might be another post today.