I went to play basketball at the boy's orphanage today. In the giant gym where we played basketball, there were two full courts opened up. We divided up into four teams, two on one court, two on the other court. The volunteers outnumbered the kids in a significant way, so we divided the kids up evenly among all of the teams.

The game was neck and neck. On their team there were plenty of fancy shooters, all ready to take their shot at the glory. They got ahead pretty early and since we realized that we were not going to beat them at shooting, we broke down into more of a team mentality. Sure, we sucked by ourselves, but we did not suck together. Matt was our center. He did most of the rebounding on the defensive side, playing a little bit of zone defense around the entire key. Lisa played the zone on the left back and Jerry, the tall ATEK organizer, played the top left. I guarded point man to man and Jun took to guarding whoever he was going to pass to.

The system worked. Pretty soon, we were making a basket for each and every one of theirs. Not only that, but it wasn't just one guy making all the shots. All of us could pull out a clean shot. The other team was starting to get a little nervous.

Now, it so happened that their point guard was a guy from my church. He had this thick glossy brown hair, a bright red shirt and an imposing frame standing at about six foot four and weighing maybe 270lbs. I should have known that I was over my head guarding him, but of all the shooters on the team, he stood out at the one who actually made it the most. Somehow, he managed to blow past me. It probably was some kind of fake out. I ran around to the bottom of the key to catch up with him when I saw him barreling forward for the shot. Somehow, I managed to get in front of him and I stopped.

Then, there was a very long split second. In clearer vision than my eyeglass prescription should allow, I saw the red heart on the front of his sweat soaked shirt moving at top speed in my direction. I knew what was going to happen next. A little bemused voice in my head managed to get out a "bad move" before he hit.

I'm not sure when my arms went up, the first or the second time he bumped into me, but I know that my arms and legs were pulled up in front of me as I skidded across the floor.

"Oh my God!" I heard the point guard yell.

For a moment, I was surprised by the alarm. Did someone else get hurt? I seem to be doing pretty well. I leapt up and looked around, but it occurred to me that that mortified apologetic expression was meant for me. I smiled and shrugged.

"Don't worry about it," I said, "I'm fine."

"I'm an awful person!" he said.

"I jumped right in front of you," I objected. It was true. That was how I managed to be prepared for impact. That was why I wasn't hurt. It was just a really poorly executed pick.

"Oh God," he groaned.

"No really," I continued, "You didn't even see me."

We continued to play. It was obvious that I was fine. After a short while, the poor cute red clad point guard started to feel a little dehydrated. We all decided to take a break and get a drink.

As we stood in front of spigot, he looked exhausted. "It's just the smoking, the drinking and the being fat," he explained, "I'm just dying out there."

He paused a moment, looking up at me, "Oh, and then I kill innocent people."

I laughed. I had to admit, he got me pretty good.

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So, there is this song that they use as the transition between all of the skits at my pre-school hagwon here in Korea. It's actually a song from the musical version of Oliver Twist. "Food, Glorious Food!" it plays and, in grim sympathy as the dreaded lunch hour comes closer and closer, my stomach grumbles.

Now, skip to a few weeks later, yesterday actually, and the fourth doctor is asking me the same questions that I don't really know the answers to. "So, do you feel like you are having more stress, lately?" "Well, no," I say, immediately wondering if that's true. Sure, I'm am having a lot of stress, but it strikes me that everyone I know isn't suddenly falling ill every other week or so and they, as it so happens, are experiencing exactly the same amount of stress as I am. Also, the increased level of stress is not something that has changed in the past six months. You would think one would develop some kind of stress muscles to fight against it. Particularly since I thought I was getting better at pushing all those distressing thoughts from my mind.

"Is food any less delicious?" he asks. "Well... no," I say. "So, no loss of appetite," he says, finally remembering the terms. No, no loss of appetite. I still want food, but all my options seem to be glaring at me with evil eyes saying, "Do you dare? You could eat me, but don't you remember what I did to you last time?" It's like wandering through a valley or weeds looking for a salad. One decent salad! What happened to beef and broccoli? Sweet and sour chicken? Lemon Chicken? Even freaking Happy Family? Or Pad Thai? Or California Rolls? Oh, Korea, that's what. You can like all Asian you want: it's not Korean. Pork, live octopus (dare I say dog?) but no blasted pad thai! Oh, and when did every pizza place start looking like Fazolvi's? So, maybe I got that one wrong, too. Yes, things are looking less delicious! They keep giving me the runs!

The doctor shakes his head, "Well, your blood tests and urine samples came back normal. My guess is that you are just having a hard time adjusting to the food."

I couldn't help but hide my frustration, imagining all the things I used to make when I had pots, pans, microwaves and ovens. The things I made with a specialty grocery store around the corner. Jambalaya, baklava, pad thai, egg drop soup, lemon chicken, BBQ Chicken Pizza, spiced apple chicken, guacamole, avacado salad with mint dressing, fried goat cheese pucks and salad.

"Food glorious, food" my brain sings softly, teasingly, "Magical food! Marvelous food! Heavenly food! Beautiful food! Glorious food..."

Back to rice. Back to apples. Back to peanut butter. No food for me.

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There are some books that I really liked reading in school. At least the ends. I loved Hamlet and I loved Song of Roland. They were both tragedies, but they really had a funny way of making me laugh. I mean, here was Roland, limping across the battlefield of the moors with arrows poking out all over him saying to each fallen victim "Oh! Poor soul! If only I could save you!" and in extra badassness, limps his way up to a hill-side so that he could poetically die under a tree.

In Hamlet, it's like someone pushed a domino and suddenly the whole cast is dead. I think at the end, an entirely new character wanders on stage just so there can be someone around to notice that everyone is dead.

These tragedies were humorous.

This struck me because, in my own life, disaster and humor aren't really all that far apart either. It's just the way that I look at a situation. For instance, being pushed around every day by a bunch of Koreans is pretty annoying, but if you imagine that you are one pin-ball in a giant world of Korean bumpers, its actually pretty funny. Then, instead of having people ask, "Are you okay" I've got people asking me 'what are you laughing at'. Smiling knowingly, I reply to both, 'nothing, nothing'.

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YES! I have all of my packages wrapped and they are going to be mailed home tomorrow. (You guys are all going to be home for Christmas, right? Because I am sending them there.)

Anyhow, whenever you go shopping, you always develop your own little list. So, for all of you amusement, here is my list

1.) A flock of angora goats (a trained dog to go with it.)
2.) 30 acres of farmland
3.) The new Disney movie "Tangled" on DVD.
4.) A boyfriend (must like such date-like things as "ice skating" "going to movie" "dinner for two" and D&D)
5.) itunes cards
6.) A guarantee that I will not be blown up by a North Korean nuclear bomb
7.) Prince of Persia on DVD
8.) Those slacks and Jeans they sell on the Victoria Secret website (size 10, 32 inseam, flare or bootcut)
9.) The Princess and the Frog (DVD)
10.) A ticket to Lotte World (Actually, I'm buying this for myself)

Okay, I think that is enough for me right now. To everyone, a Merry Christmas Shopping Season.

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So, I got this new book from my mom called "Setting limits in the classroom" I opened it up to a random page, read it and thought, "Oh! So that's why my life has been so much easier lately."

What I use to do:

Disruption occurs
I explain why the disruption is a disruption
disruption continues
I yell
They all yell at each other
More yelling happens
The class ends

What I do now:

Disruption occurs
I take away a star
They object
I give them two options
They object again
I move on with my lesson
They do what I asked them to do in the first place.

Oh, and the classic:

"Can I go to the bathroom?"
"Read rule number 10 for me."
"Do not go to the- AWWW!!!!"

Nice, hunh? I guess the book calls what I did before "Classroom dances" and it sure felt like it. Explaining and elaborating and explaining until my throat was sore and I got the vague impressing of talking to a wall or being a trained monkey, I couldn't quite figure out with. Now? Well, you have five seconds to do what I want you to or else. Life is a lot easier now.

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Just slid across the finish line ladies and gents! Yeeha! Now I'm off to... edit. *slomp* *slomp*

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