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January 10, 2006 >> Birthday Sap Comes From Christmas Trees

My Korean birthday was most excellent.

I feel somewhat guilty going there, to the commonplace birthday, falling into narcissistic self-indulgences when there are a million and one flashes of Korean (and Chinese... urgh) culture I haven't captured yet. But what could be more suited to narcissism than a blog I named after myself? Maybe a blog called Chris Clemens: Hitler's Heir Apparent, I suppose, or Chrissy The Champion of the World or Clemensmania: History Creeping Thru the Back Door With a Sackful of Doorknobs.

And so, with great effort, I will try to pull myself away from naming my official biography to talk about Birthdays and Good Times and Good People Who Are Not Me.

But first, necessary introductions. If you know me well, you're probably well acquainted with my Expect the Worst and Be Pleasantly Surprised outlook on life. It's not pessimism; it's simply a reactionary stance to the thread of disappointment I see woven into every strand of the world. I believe that my life is hardwired to follow some twisted inversion of desire: the more I want something, the less likely I am to get it. I have thusly, and with great success, thwarted the universe's evil designs by training myself not to want fiercely. Forced indifference is the lynchpin of victory.

I reek of stale cynicism and yet, happily and miraculously, I have not been shorn of the ability to recognize the subtle heroics of others. However dark and strange my own outlook on life I have somehow, I think, retained the cognizance to appreciate goodness elsewhere. This is a mercy for which I am eternally grateful, and probably has something to do with years of Sunday School or reading sentimental drek when I was a kid, or maybe caring for magical creatures in video games. Whatever it was, I have somehow acquired a profound admiration for the positivity I see all around me, even if I can only see it from the distance.

And so, when I tell you that I didn't expect my birthday here in Korea to amount to much, you shouldn't be surprised. But the sheer greatness and lifting force of everyone in my life right now blew my face right off, leaving my fleshless, 24-year old skull chattering in shock.

The kids made cards and wrote letters. The parents sent me scarves and shirts and handcrafted play-doh birthday cakes and a sunflower ornament featuring a hyper-gay pink bear. The teachers pitched in and bought me a sweet book on Korean culture and a decorative plaque depicting two monks wrestling amorously.

I blacked out halfway through Saturday night, having fallen victim to a devilish plot by Mike to spike my drink with threefold soju. Apparently my body raged onwards through the darkness, dancing and molesting and talking shit until it finally fell victim to a double-whiskey (which someone had to help me drink) and a long cab ride home.

Chad and Jen bought me din-dins. Mike got me 1984. Belinda mixed me a Korean Donkey CD. Sam threw a Chicken & Beer gathering. The family sent cards (which are still on a boat somewhere in the Pacific Ocean). The friends from back home emailed me out of the blue, in wonderfully unceremonious fashion. Text messages. Day-late phone calls - the International Date Line makes lateness okay! I swelled up like a blowfish; I couldn't help it. It was more than I could've ever hoped for, had I ever hoped at all.

This list shouldn't read like a boast. It shouldn't look like a "See how popular I am, look at all the birthday presents I got, motherfuckers" piece of grandiloquence. I only carry on because I appreciated everything so much, because I didn't want to leave anything out. Unabashed thanks is a rarity in my life. It doesn't take much to make just one day in someone's life memorable, but it does take something and I can't (won't) let those little fragments of effort go unacknowledged. I'm still a narcissist but I can learn from this; I can give back with equal fury. One day I will be finished with killing and not caring. Not everyone is a walking carrier of embryonic disappointment.

But then again, if I had hoped for all of this would I have gotten it?

Philosophy is for donkeys.


Posted by Chris at 05:15 AM >> Commentations (3)

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