As the Author of my own misfortune becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy

When my marriage broke down, so did my mental well-being and life. It’s hard to pinpoint when it all started to fall apart. Was it before or after that prostitute that one drunken night? During the Christmas holiday I spent entertaining myself with my co-workers while She worked? Or when I got that great job only to get screwed over when I discovered they needed a temp worker, leading me along until it was too late? I insisted She have a job for her own self worth and to contribute to the family expenses. She never made enough money to contribute to anything but her own pocket, but She also worked enough so She was working when I wasn't and vice verse  When we were “together”, She was so tired from working, and on a different sleep schedule that we never spent time together anyway. We lived separate lives and both of us made barely any effort to change it until it was too late.

Already a heavy drinker, left to my own devices, I began to drink more. By the time She finally moved out, I was drunk nearly every day and soon after that, “nearly” disappeared from the phrase and just became every day.

Even now, a couple of years later, I don’t try to figure out who to blame or maybe I ignore my own faults. To say She left because I was drinking is an easy assumption to make but I think that’s a cop out. I was drinking when I met her, while I courted her, and married her for 6 years. It wasn't like I was some fabulous guy who turned into an abusive alcoholic after marriage. And I started to drink much more after She was gone, leading to my current situation. It got much worse after. It was like my best friend dying except She wasn't dead and She was no longer my friend. I was a stranger in a strange land in my own house. She abandoned me in a foreign country to fend for myself in a foreign language after depending on her for basic necessities for my entire life here. At the same time, my visa and passport both expired. My passport was easy to replace, the visa, not so much.

At the Immigration office, due to our separation and separate addresses, our 6 years of marriage was now under investigation as a fraud. It seemed pretty fucking real to me. To make things worse, She was actually in New York with her new boyfriend. While I was struggling to keep my life from falling apart, She wasn't even in the same fucking country, further eroding my credibility.

My life included our (now “my”) dog, our (my) apartment, with all our (my) furniture, including the refrigerator, washing machine, TV, bed, etc. Since, I no longer had a wife or any need to be in a foreign country in the first place anymore, I still had to deal with getting rid of it all and I needed a visa to do it. I was also technically married and couldn't get a divorce, even if I wanted to because She wasn't in the country. At one point, She had added her niece to her family registry and this unknown element came as quite a shock when asked by the reviewing immigration officer if I had a daughter with Her. It was more than a shock because it was nearly a year after she had left and therefore more than possible, however unlikely (due to a lack of a sex life before our split), that the daughter was born without my knowledge. I was greatly relieved to discover later it was her niece. At the time, my stammering reply only further destroyed any credibility I may have had left, convincing the immigration officer that my marriage really was a sham. I was told to return 6 months later.

In the meantime, as I dismantled my previous life and my current one disintegrated in a haze of cigarettes and booze, I naturally became more cynical and combative about my country of residence.

 I was bored and lonely. I couldn't stand being alone in my (our) apartment. I went to drink at bars, but not socialize—just so I wasn't sitting alone. I was hostile to any attempts by strangers to be friends. I didn't need new friends; I had Jim & Jack to keep me company, as well as few Russian girls and my usual suspects. I rejected Korean and Koreans, and when pushed, I fought back.

I would get so blindingly drunk, sometimes I never made it the couple of blocks home, opting to pass out in a doorway along the way instead. Roused by a concerned police officer, I thought I was being mugged and attacked. This got me my first fine of $4000 for preventing an officer from fulfilling their duty, or “obstruction of justice”. I didn't pay it. I had no job or money and my source of income was questionable, if nearly non-existent. I had odd jobs and sold most of my (our) belongings. Near the end, I had an empty house with just my clothes, a few pillows and blankets, my laptop, and an internet connection and that’s about it. Everything else, including the refrigerator, was gone, although I kept the vacuum and washing machine right up to the last minute.

Back at the bars, I ended up in two more incidents, resulting in two more $2000 fines for a total of $8000 of unpaid fines. On the visa front, She had returned to Korea and we finally divorced. I was scheduled to get a new visa, but now rid of all our (my) belongings, I decided I no longer needed a visa since I wasn't married and no longer had any stuff tying me to the land. I bought a ticket to Thailand instead, said my good-byes and went to the airport.

Only to be blocked at the departure gates due to my $8000 in unpaid fines. At this point, a sad, pathetic story becomes surreal and ridiculous. It becomes a Catch-22 on an epic scale.

A story of fucked if you do and fucked if you don’t... Continue to the next page>>

Prologue Part VI

Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but I wonder why I havn't seen or heard from her in 3 weeks. If she wants her divorce, we have to do it together. At court. In front of a judge. This is something she wanted. Now that I'm willing and able, not a word. I haven't seen her in 6 months. In my paranoia, I'm wondering if she was fucking around and got herself pregnant? She wanted to divorce quickly before, but now she's avoiding me. Is it because I'll notice she is pregnant now, whereas I wouldn't have before?

And it's not just that, it's the issue of Guinness. Is she going to take him or what? What kind of living conditions does she have planned for him?

Prologue Part V

I wonder what my in-laws think of me now? I never met them until 6 months after I'd been married. They tracked us down through a friend of a friend of her's. We met them at the subway station and walked back to one of our first apartments. It was barely bigger then a closet, if fact, my parents had a bigger closet in the house I grew up in. I would hide in that closet when playing hide and seek with my sister-- you could get lost in it, like the wardrobe of narnia, but I regress...

She walked with her mom and talked. I walked with her dad (as he glared at me) and smoked. I learned later it was very rude to smoke in front of your elders. At 35, I usually was the elder. It was so rude that both her older brothers, both of whom were actually older than me, had never been seen smoking by their father although he was well aware they smoked.

After a few meetings, they warmed up to me. I was helpful in the kitchen, I even cooked (they were shocked! Most men can barely cook instant noodles in this country). I can drink like a fish, and her old man finally had a son to hang out with, drink and smoke, without the usual social hangups so prevalent in Korean society (I wasn't korean, after all).

Time went on. We learned more about each other. I'm pretty handy with tools, so I would often help the old man with his various projects. They had a garden restaurant, so when we would visit, I would help with their small zoo, having grown up with a small zoo myself, including geese, horses, dogs, cats and mice. Building new enclosures, feeding chickens, etc.  I helped mom serve customers (a waegook serving us food!?!) They loved me, I was very fond of them. What went wrong?

I wonder what they think if me now?

Prologue Part IV

Nov 16, 2011
Today, I went to sleep at about 1 pm. I woke up at 6 pm. All the stuff I set aside to be donated or thrown out was gone when I awoke thanks to my housekeeper. I woke to a clean house, minus all the garbage and crap I had ripped through the night/day before. It was good.

Later I met up with an army buddy of mine who gave me a new pair of boots for my journey. Good quality, US-issue boots. He's got a bunch of other stuff I may find useful on my walkabout, like ponchos and blankets. I don't think I will be in a situation where I'll have to depend on survival skills to stay alive, but being in the Boy Scouts has hardwired me to "be prepared" and being prepared to survive under any conditions is a good thing to be. I'm going to go back on the weekend and see what else he's got.

Prologue Part III

Nov16, 2011
One of the things that bothers me the most, in April, she just decided to leave.

That left me me with the responsibility (in a foreign country) of the lease, the rent, all the bills (including hers), the dogs and 7 years of memories that I had to sell, barter or give away in order to leave with enough money to survive for a few months in another foreign country.

Even going back to Canada is pretty foreign at this point.

Prologue Part II

Nov15, 2011
The first time I ever hitch-hiked any great distance, my mom took me to Canadian Tire to get some camping gear. One of the things she bought me was a First Aid kit in a multi-fold nylon wallet. I still have it 20+ years later. It's much more beefy now. I've supplemented it over the years with new stuff to make it more complete.

My dad drove me the first 500 km to northern Ontario to start me off. He taught me how to roll a cigarette(joint) while driving at the same time.

I am thankful for both.

Prologue Part I

I started writing this on November 15th, 2011. The first time anybody will see this will be months after.

I don't know where to begin. Do I start with my birth? Do I follow my genealogy that led to my birth? Do I start in kindergarten, elementary, or middle school or high school or college? Do I start in my 20's or my 30's or is 40 the new 50? I get so mixed up. Do I start from when I left home/my parents, or from when I left my country? If I had a choice, I would leave Earth. Not LIFE, don't get me wrong, I'm as scared of DEATH as the rest of ya. I just meant the planet. Wouldn't going to Mars be cool? Sure, it would be hard and dangerous and dirty, but DAMN, it would be cool.

So, where to begin. Now seems like a good start. She left in April or May (It's now Nov, 15, 2011). I"m not quite sure anymore, it's all been a blur. I have not been in a good frame of mind or been thinking straight. Again, the mixed-up mind thing. In the meantime (7 months), I got a roommate, sat on my ass, watched tv. .. when I went out, I got drunk. stinking drunk. blank drunk (oh, wait-- I had a job for Samsung for a month).
*To all those that encountered/are encountering me(I'm writing this in the Future!), I'm sorry. And-- I THANK you for putting up with all my shit. You boosted my ego when it need to be boosted from it's lowest point. It gave me the courage to do what I'm doing now.

So, what am I doing now? Today, or was it yesterday (again, mixed up)? I got some boxes. The junk in my room is now a little organized. I have things separated into piles of garbage, valuable garbage, stuff to sell, ship home (huh? where is that exactly?), and take with me.

I'm not used to a roommate. I'm not going to talk bad about him, he's lived alone-- I've lived with a woman. Our ideas of cleanliness are different, and we'll leave it at that. Chris is a good guy. He try's hard.

Why am I packing anyway? Where am I going?

As I see it, my F2 visa ends on January 15th. I have to get a new visa. I have 2 ways of doing that. Get Min to vouch for me(not going to happen) and renew my visa before I sign the divorce papers ( I run the risk of committing fraud for being divorced and on an F2 visa, or I leave the country and re-enter as a tourist (which cost at least $1000 for airfare and accommodation/food. Or I leave on a $100 and take my chances, on a slow boat to china. OH! Exciting!

I see no reason to be here anymore. The only reason I was here was for her. I was hoping we would go together. We both got tired of waiting for each other years ago.

I hate teaching English. It's a soul-sucking job. It's also very lucrative. But beware of the sucking power. Be aware of how you got to teaching English in the first place. Follow your dreams, if you need something to fall back on, teach English, but get out quick.