Shoes, Glorious Shoes!

We all own 'em. Many of us love 'em. So, when asked by Andrew about my favourite shoes, I complied. I figured I'd share it with the world because, well...I've never knew just how attached I was to something that clads my feet until I had to write about it.
________________________________________________________
In chronological order, my top five:

1. I had a very small pair of black patent leather shoes when I was about three years old. I loved them because they were so shiny. In fact, it was when I was about three when I learned the word "patent" from my mother, in regards to these shoes. I wore them to church, mostly. When I went out for Hallowe'en that year (the first, and last year for a long, long time due to the fact that I was scared out of my wits and my parents had to console me for about an hour before I could sleep that night), dressed as Cinderella (complete with a pumpkin - made to look like a coach - which was a perfect size because I was such a tiny kid), my mother covered my black patent leather shoes with aluminium foil. I was astounded. My mother made me glass slippers. Genius.

2. When I was in Buffalo with my family for vacation, we went shopping at a place called G.H. Bass & Co. I think I was about 14 or 15 at the time, and unused to shopping for myself because my mother generally did the honours. But there we were, in G.H. Bass & Co., when I saw a pair of leather sandals. Not just any sandals, really, because they had a special, padded sole and the thick, dark brown straps were topstitched with lighter brown stitching. They were very rugged looking...very Australian Outback. They were expensive, but came with some ridiculously long warrantee so I proposed that I use my own money to purchase them based on logical deduction and customer saavy. My parents were impressed. The shoes proceded to follow me through a few Canadian summers, mostly spent up at camp romping through the forest, and three months in India in 2000, including a trek in the Himalayas. While in Toronto, I had the stitching repaired at a local shoe repair guy but he always did a hack job. In India, I had to get the stitching retouched again, and the darling, ancient Indian man, with hands as leathery as my shoes, repaired them so beautifully I would have prefered his job to the original stitching from Bass. He also refused payment. I almost cried. In fact, I did shed a tear when recently, now in Korea, my shoes have stared to split in the sole. The local Korean shoe repair man can't do anything for them. I thought of throwing them out because, really, do I need to lug home any more luggage than I already have to lug? no. but I just can't bring myself to do it. I'm going to bring them home in hopes that the G.H. Bass & Co. warrantee was, in fact, a lifelong one.

3. I own a pair of parade (army) boots. I bought them at the Old Clothing Show at the Ex one year, from a booth that originated in Kengsington (like Exile, or something). My ubercool mother had already bought a pair, as had my father, so it wasn't like I was rebelling or anything. I loved them right away. I love the weight of them when I wear them...like, "I'm small and blond, but I could kick your ass." When I went to England I wore them so much in the rain outside, I had to polish them every few days or so. To this day, some of my friends from that time remember me sitting, crosslegged, at Holmsted Manor (the YWAM base in Sussex), furiously polishing the heel and toe of a boot. Also, I wore them for a concert called 2000 ACTS (if you've heard of it, I'll have to explain more and, if you haven't, don't worry) with a skirt. That was always my favourite combination: long, flowing, feminine skirt...WITH KICK-YOUR-ASS BOOTS.

4. Before I left for Korea, I spotted a pair of Steve Madden shoes at a store downtown. They were slick - the kind of shoe you wear when you want to be sexy, but also dangerous. They're kitten-heeled (a la Audrey Hepburn), with a gap at the arch of the foot, and a very sharp, witch-like pointed toe. They're black, with hot pink interiors. Problem was, I was just about to leave and was attempting to save money. I lamented to Kate about them (as only girls can do) and described them in detail. About a week before my departure, Kate came to pick me up at work downtown in her car. Before I got in, she ordered for me to close my eyes and hold out my hands. In them, she placed...the Maddens. I could tell what they were by the feel of the shape of them. Shrieks, hugs, more shrieks, etc. And this proves that a) I have the best friend in the world, and b) these shoes deserve to be on my top five list.

5. The last pair of shoes I bought here in Korea actually makes my top five. First, I think it's the most I've paid on a pair of shoes. I have a million pairs of shoes, but none of them have cost me more than $10, on average...before these ones. I was shopping in a department store with my friend, Matt, when he asked if we could stop while he looked at buying a new watch. I said no problem. WHILE HE WAS LOOKING AT THE WATCHES, I casually turned around, spotted these shoes, asked the price, tried them on, and bought them. When Matt had found a watch worthy of purchasing, about 10 minutes later, I sheepishly showed him my shoebag. They're moss green, with a three inch heel, ankle strap, and fancy detailing around the closed toe. They fit like a dance shoe, which is important in a three inch heel. They were my first pair of "Sex In The City" shoes and I feel exactly like Carrie Bradshaw when I wear them.

I'll Fly Away...Oh Glory!

I was handed an airplane ticket this afternoon. I shrieked. Then I sat down. Then I held it really, really tight between both index fingers and thumbs and just...stared at it. Then, for a brief moment, I felt sad. Then I shrieked again.

The moment has come. I've been looking forward to it and dreading it, in equal parts, since this time last year. I dread it because the moment I'm on that plane, departing Incheon Internation Airport, this life - my apartment, my classroom, my school, the streets of my neighbourhood, my group of friends, my memories, this age, these memories - will no longer exist. One of my least favourite memories was going "under" whilst having my wisdom teeth extracted. I hated waking up, with cotton swabs in my mouth, and not being able to account for the past hour of my life. I love revisiting old places, old sites, old smells, old feelings, to remind myself that they existed. That I, at that time, existed. Korea is a year of life that will go unrevisited. And that's a bitter pill to swallow.

It's been an easier pill to swallow now that I have things to look forward to upon my return. I have officially been accepted by YWAM Toronto as a (yet untitled) staff member. I will soon see Kate, Nik, my amazing family - complete with two hilarious brothers who I have missed so much while I've been away - my beloved Toronto, my house on Malvern, Lake Ontario, etc...

And yet...

"One becomes, sometimes, a little incoherant in talking about it;...one loses temper in reasoning about what can only be felt."
- Henry Adams

"X-Rated" (yoinked from Jenn's blog)

The following is a post that my friend, Jenn, wrote for her blog (www.jenndu.blogspot.com) but, because it is brilliantly portrayed and I am feeling quite lazy, I have copied and pasted for my own blog. All facts are true.
* * * * * * * *
The Korean Sauna is an interesting thing. Today, Sarah and I decided to treat ourselves by visiting one. First of all, the jinjo bongs (spelled very incorrectly) or saunas, are everywhere. This is mainly because everyone in Korea frequents them on a regular basis. However, don't get ahead of yourselves by thinking that this is some sort of snooty elitist society (which it is, but not because of thier habiutal visits to saunas). Because although the saunas are somewhat of a luxury item, a lot of korean men, women, and families will visit one just to take a regular shower. Odd, i know.

So, the jinjo bongs are made up of several diffent features. First there are the baths. Not just hot tubs, but baths filled with scented water, salt water, tea (including a giant tea bag in the bath), baths with massaging jets, out door baths, cold water baths... you name it. Then there are the actual sauna rooms; stand up showers; sit down shower stations; and a place to have treatments done. So basically, these sauna's are great. The only thing is that in the sauna's you must be completely naked. No bathing suits, no towels... just what your mamma gave you.
Basically it's a cess pool of naked korean women.

Because Sarah and I were on a mission to treat ourselves right today, we decided to have body exfoliating treatments done. * Just so you can have a clear idea of what we were getting ourselves into, the women that preform these treatments are agima's (old women) who are stripped down to only their underware, bra not included. First we lay down on plastic beds while the agima's dumped buckets of warm water on us. Then, they put on what were basically brillo pad mittens and proceeded to scrub us raw. I literally watched several layers of my own body come off. After about half an hour of this we were pretty much basted, like christmas turkeys, with eucalypts oil and sent on our way. So, in a nutshell, we paid to have old topless women score our entire bodies (literally from our toes to the tips of our fingers) with steel wool. Bizarre, I know. But, the thing that is even more bizarre, is that this was not at all a traumatizing experience. Actually, it was totally amazing... so amazing that we've decided to continue to pay the topless agima's to do this to us on a bi weekly basis!
Yes, there was the looming anxiety of an agima nipple possibly grazing my back (which it didn't... praise the Lord), but in the end it was completely relaxing, and we left with skin soft as a baby's bottom. Not bad for $13.

Thoughts On a Thursday Evening

1. What is it about a freshly-cleaned apartment that makes one feel as if all is right with the world? Two hours spent washing dishes, folding clothes, vacuuming, doing laundry, and sorting...and I feel as if I can take on anything. Is this what they refer to as the "nesting instinct", or is that only for pregnant women? In any case, it's delightful.
2. Why is it that once something becomes available, the desire to have it all but disappears? This came up in conversation with some of my friends today - electronics, fashion, relationships, jobs: the urge to possess them is overwhelming right up until the moment that they present themselves to us on a silver platter. Then...forget it. We want something else. Something unattainable. Marriage must be difficult.
3. While lamenting to a friend that I wished I had several parallel lives to live (in one I could be a full-time artist with a gallery, in another I could travel the world and never settle, in one I could be a stay-at-home mom with several bubbies, in another I could make a living as a writer...), she answered, "Why can't you?" Which made me think that it's actually possible. If you're capable of letting one go as you reach for the next. In summary, if you're capable of knowing your identity lies outside of what you DO.
   
4. If cats experience vast ups and downs in their energy level (11:00 a.m. - if I were to pick him up and toss him across the room, he would remain in a comatose-like state; 11:00 p.m. - he's throwing himself across the room in a frenetic fashion), shouldn't we also expect to experience the same? Cats don't even drink coffee. Does this mean that there is a natural "high" point of the day for each of us? I'm going to discover mine and make the best of it.

Beomgye & Me

Enjoying a comfortable Tuesday evening in with m'kattin. He's helping me as I type this.

Kitten

I'll be the first to admit that this wasn't the best decision. It was base entirely on a desire: I want a cat. I have wanted a cat since I arrived in Korea, I miss the cat I left in Toronto, I thought I was in need of fur therapy.

Granted, it is delightful to be woken up with soft mewing and purring, paws in my face and nose in my hair, but I have also been rudely reminded of the fact that I am more than slightly allergic to felines and perhaps more so now that I haven't been around them for over 10 months. I am also leaving the country in less than two months. I already have a large sized box in the middle of my already-cramped studio apartment to fill with things to send home in the post. So the box, plus the assorted piles of things to be packed, plus the paths that I require to actually do anything in my place (for example, reach the fridge, bathroom, or front door), plus a small ball of fur jumping madly around my ankles...well, it makes for a frustrating existence.

But it is delightful to be woken up with soft mewing and purring, paws in my face and nose in my hair.

Do You Like Scary Movies?

We are victims of our own paranoias. Think about it. The thing that makes your skin crawl, the thing that makes your heart palpitate, the thing that keeps you up at night, or, conversely, wakes you up from a dream so real that you are bathing in a slick of your own sweat...who created these fears? Not I, said the victim. And it can't be God, because no fault can be found in him. So it must be our enemy, the thief of our peace, the anti-comforter: that Devil.

A friend of mine has recently joined me in Korea and, as an only child, fears the prospect of life in a single apartment by herself. Outrageous! said the oldest of two younger brothers. A life spent in an apartment, without friend or sibling or friend in the world, is heaven. A pure and blessed respite from a life spent in constant communication and interaction with other human beings, whether voluntary or otherwise. But my friend's fears should not be minimilized. For her, the fear of an empty apartment, without roommate, is real. The fear is internal, is believed, is BREATHED in, and is invicible to logic. I can attempt to calm her with promises of copious visits, wall hangings, and my own abode as refuge, but the fear remains: I am alone.

" There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear..." (1 John 4:18, NIV), or, my personal favourite, "There is no room in love for fear. Well-formed love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling..." (the Message translation). There is no ROOM in love for fear? That means that it is full to capacity. The type of love that Psalm 23:5 talks about, "...my cup runs over..." Superfluous love. Love that is almost unnecessary in its excess. But absolutely necessary in the fact that we, as humans, are riddled with our petty fears.

I have a fear of bats. Why? Because I spent one night, just one night, in a room alone in Panama when I was twelve with a bat who spent the hours between midnight and daybreak making numerous swoops at my face. It was most likely curious. I have a fear of underwater. Why? Because I flipped through a National Geographic magazine when I was young and saw images of glow-in-the-dark sea creatures with underbites that terrified me. Now, I can appreciate that these creatures were created by God, beautiful in their own way, and they glow in the dark, for crying out loud...that's beautiful. I still have a difficult time with the thought of skuba diving. And my friend, my dear friend from Toronto, who can't stand the thought of coming home to a delectable two-room apartment (while the rest of us make do with studios) fears every moment she spends there because she grew up devoid of siblings. She believes in the thought that she is alone. I belive in the thought that bats will swarm me in a darkened cave.

God's love casts out fear and yet, as Christians, "filled" with God's love, hold on to their fears as familiar territory. Even as I write this I realize that I am, once again, stating, in print, that I "have" a fear of bats and a fear of deep sea creatures when really I am only chosing to accept that fear into my life. The fears seem real because we have adopted them. They have been a part of our reality since twelve years of age or since childbirth. God's love should be enough, IS enough, but perhaps we don't access this love.

The Love that speaks simple truths, such as, "You are not alone." and "Bats will not swarm you." is absolutely pivotal to our spiritual walk. To say the words, "I was petrified of _______, but now, because of God's all-consuming love of me, I have been freed of that fear. I live my life devoid of unfounded fears because I feel that God understands my littleness and comforts me enough that I can face life uninhibited by them." makes your testimony real. No one can console you in your most fearful hour, just as no one can argue the fact that you live a live outside of fearful hours entirely.

" You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies." (Psalm 23:5)