I keep trying to write every now and then and it just goes to draft, because it’s so un-remarkable.

Still not finished with the broadcast book two weeks into school!  Actually I am finished now, but just can’t find appropriate free clip art to go with it.  And you know what?  I suck at drawing.  I mean, I suck at drawing anything cartoonish.  I also suck at sketching.  And I also found out back in school that I suck at abstract painting.  Basically, I have no imagination.  But I can copy real life well.  And I can design well.  And I can do concepts well.  So I have no idea where art will take me.  Maybe that is my last frontier, loosening up on the page…

Every time I think Momo and I have passed some milestone in our relationship, or that I’ve figured out how to make her happy, the attacks resume, just to keep me humble.  My arms have less scars on them than before, so I guess that’s progress.  I can say that from the numerous staple-like puncture scabs, Momo’s top incisors are 7mm apart and her bottom incisors are about 8mm apart…

It’s really not her fault.  She’s really a wild animal who also loves her substitute mom.  She’s just unfortunate to have drawn a really dull mom is all.  She needs to be with her own kind.  But somehow, we’ve got to get her to accept how I am and help her deal with it.

There’s also nothing remarkable to report about Korea.  The comedy’s still bad, the weather still sucks, the mass transit is still awesome, the students still like me, I still suck at conversation, I manage to be a decent teacher in spite of it.

I learned last week to stop intervening with death wishes and let childish, spiteful, vengeful, broken adoptees drive themselves into whatever dramatic conclusions they want to.  Others might let themselves consider intervention an act of caring, but some people are stubborn:  they’ve been angry so long, they don’t feel comfortable not holding onto it.  Anyone who isn’t for them is against them.  Anyone who doesn’t put up with their poor victim story and embrace them but tries to stop them from dying is against them.  I will now forever wash my hands of this borderline personality and my conscience will rest easy, as the only thing that can save them is self reflection.