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Published On: Apr 26, 2006 10:02 PM
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Published On: Apr 26, 2006 10:02 PM
Sleeping In The Flowers Or Pushing Up Daisies?
It's a beautiful Fall day here in Korea, one of
those first days of early autumn where it's not hot, not humid, and there
haven't yet been enough days like that so that you're completely jaded to
them. "Crisp" is a good word for
it.
I rode my bicycle home for lunch today, and had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with baby carrots. Walked back outside and was surprised to see the lawn of my dorm dotted with dead bodies. Or so I thought. My mistake became apparent as I realized that most dead people don't bother to fnd shady spots under trees, nor do they take off their boots and stack them neatly beside them. I completely acknowledge that I may see in the local newspaper a horrible story regarding a serial killer who puts his victims under trees, then takes their boots off and places them beside the body, but that's really neither here nor there. For the purpose of this entry, I'm sticking with the idea that they were sleeping.
LIttle Korean men were napping on my lawn. From their clothes I surmised that they worked here on base. And then, gradually, two amazing revelations struck me.
My first thought, after realizing they were alive, was "Ewww." They're just lying there on the ground! Anything could be crawling into their pants! I too, however, have been known to lie on the ground. I've camped without a tent, with no blanket or pillow to separate my bones and flesh (and clothing) from the the bones and flesh of Ymir. Although that was in Kentucky and Korea is completely different (and much grosser) bug-wise, there really wasn't that much difference.
The other thought struck me as I passed yet another (not dead) prone man as I walked down the sidewalk. He didn't move; didn't open his eyes. He didn't even flinch as my heavy boots struck vibrations from the rough concrete. Here was complete and utter trust. I've never been able to sleep that soundly, not even in my own room, behind locked doors. At the slightest noise I'm awake and searching the darkness for a sign of life. Here were men who grew up in a country where war is not just a distant memory, who can sleep out in the open without fear of footfalls or observation!
Foolish and naive, I assessed, but then repented the thought. For a moment I was almost envious of the serenity, and longed to take my place among the slumbering workers. But for me, that would be too much like a death for which I'm not yet prepared. Perhaps death is just a release of all fears; paranoia, insectophobia, and narcophobia, but for now I'll stick with my neurotic, vigilant self. Even the neurotic, after all, can enjoy a beautiful Fall day in Korea.
I rode my bicycle home for lunch today, and had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with baby carrots. Walked back outside and was surprised to see the lawn of my dorm dotted with dead bodies. Or so I thought. My mistake became apparent as I realized that most dead people don't bother to fnd shady spots under trees, nor do they take off their boots and stack them neatly beside them. I completely acknowledge that I may see in the local newspaper a horrible story regarding a serial killer who puts his victims under trees, then takes their boots off and places them beside the body, but that's really neither here nor there. For the purpose of this entry, I'm sticking with the idea that they were sleeping.
LIttle Korean men were napping on my lawn. From their clothes I surmised that they worked here on base. And then, gradually, two amazing revelations struck me.
My first thought, after realizing they were alive, was "Ewww." They're just lying there on the ground! Anything could be crawling into their pants! I too, however, have been known to lie on the ground. I've camped without a tent, with no blanket or pillow to separate my bones and flesh (and clothing) from the the bones and flesh of Ymir. Although that was in Kentucky and Korea is completely different (and much grosser) bug-wise, there really wasn't that much difference.
The other thought struck me as I passed yet another (not dead) prone man as I walked down the sidewalk. He didn't move; didn't open his eyes. He didn't even flinch as my heavy boots struck vibrations from the rough concrete. Here was complete and utter trust. I've never been able to sleep that soundly, not even in my own room, behind locked doors. At the slightest noise I'm awake and searching the darkness for a sign of life. Here were men who grew up in a country where war is not just a distant memory, who can sleep out in the open without fear of footfalls or observation!
Foolish and naive, I assessed, but then repented the thought. For a moment I was almost envious of the serenity, and longed to take my place among the slumbering workers. But for me, that would be too much like a death for which I'm not yet prepared. Perhaps death is just a release of all fears; paranoia, insectophobia, and narcophobia, but for now I'll stick with my neurotic, vigilant self. Even the neurotic, after all, can enjoy a beautiful Fall day in Korea.
Posted: Thu - September 29, 2005 at 04:32 PM