Times are changin’. Seems to be the theme lately. I’ve been sick four out of the past six weeks, and right now I feel like garbage. It’s not only because I’m sick; I’m also severely hung-over and my paternal grandfather died yesterday. Not like it matters much on top of everything else, but I feel defeated in personal life.
My training has been the main thing holding me together. I had an increasingly strict regime of running, stretching, Hapkido, MMA, and weight lifting. I was in the midst of increasing my Korean studying time from four hours a week to seven. So, being ill has been a double-edged sword—not only has it made me feel shitty from the aches and pains, but I no longer have my training regime to keep me sane
On top of my training, I had finally stopped drinking, with a few scattered exceptions. Last night was a big exception. After work I went to my least favorite bar and ordered a pint of beer and a shot of whiskey. I was determined to get drunk whether or not anyone decided to come out. After going through half of my phone book, Arthur showed up. We had a beer and I went through the other half of my phonebook while made some calls himself.
I had lost two other grandparents, and in all honesty, it didn’t feel like such a big deal. Even when I was looking at my maternal grandfather’s body in the hospital. I just had a sort of vague feeling that it was, all in all, a good thing. I feel the same thing for my grandpa Ehler but my body is having bad reaction to it. I’m really not happy about it, and I’m pissed off that I can’t go to the service because I’m in Korea.
Arthur and I managed to drag out Morgan, Alex, Melody, and Katie. I remembered why I quit drinking. The same old shit happened. I drank too much, and eventually all my dissatisfactions and sexual frustrations boiled to the surface and I ended up dealing with my dissatisfaction by doing something stupid, for which I now feel embarrassed.
I left the bar abruptly, without saying goodbye to anybody—shitfaced. Alex came running after me, and she hailed a cab for me, which seemed stupid to me at the time, since I felt more than capable of hailing one myself. It’s only now that I understand that she must have thought that I was going to get on my scooter.
I felt like I was going to puke in the cab ride. It would have been the first time in nearly ten years that I would have vomited from drinking alcohol. Fortunately, I resisted the urge. Climbing the stairs, I let out a wailed of frustration and kicked out a stairwell light. This is why I quit drinking.
I feel angry for not having spoken to my grandfather one last time. I wanted to ask him about growing up in Nova Scotia, and I wanted to ask him about the war. I had, on occasion asked him what it was like. He would always respond by cocking his head and looking at me as if I was in the habit of wearing tinfoil headgear and then saying “war is hell!” and leaving it at that. I thought maybe I would finally get something out of him before he passed.
I wrote on a postcard for him that I got in Jeonju. I had been intending to send it for a week, but never got around to it. It would have gotten to him if I mailed that fucking thing when I had originally intended to. Funny thing is, I felt like I kind of knew that I didn’t have much time to send it and every day, I had every intention of sending it, and every evening when I got home I would myself for not having sent it. I think that characterized our relationship. I wanted to talk with my grandfather more, I wanted to know him better, but didn’t.
Ivan was at the same time warm-hearted and stony. So, he was approachable, but inaccessible. I wanted to understand him better. If he ever started talking I’m sure I could have listened to him for hours, but he was a man of few words. He said a lot with a little, but the content rarely went past the anecdotal.
Anyways, I’ll miss him.
