Epilogue
Trip Start
Sep 24, 2005
1
10
Trip End
Oct 25, 2005
Moss Beach,
California,
United States
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
As I was watched the scenery go by from the backseat of the taxi I asked myself "is this the last time I'll be seeing these things?" I had a brief twinge of sadness. A moment later it was gone and I was happy to be leaving. Even the places that treat me badly have a place in my heart.
A think fog covered the land, and there wasn't much to see. I wasn't unhappy about it. I stared into the fog and thought.
I reached the terminal and checked in my luggage. I went to a quiet restaurant with a view overlooking the runway and ate an expensive pizza. And I thought about things... or brooded maybe. I mostly thought about careers, running them through my mind. A funny thing occurred to me as I sat there. With every career I thought up I told myself a story, setting up scenarios and playing them through in my mind. Despite this, I never considered writer as a profession. I think of every career but writer, but every time I think I tell myself a story. It seemed ironic.
I went through security more smoothly than I ever have before in Korea, though they still stuck a bomb detector into my laptop case. I went to the waiting area and stretched for awhile before boarding the plane. As I gave the stewardess my boarding pass and walked towards the cabin I thought to myself "I'm going home." That felt good.
None the less, the moment the plane took off I was struck with a terrible case of the 'what nows' and the 'will I be backs.' I asked myself the question "will I miss Korea?" I decided that I'll miss the sunsets and food, and that I'll miss the newness. But I won't miss most of it. Won't miss it at all.
As for the 'what nows', they're running through my head weeks later, and I don't know.
I watched the new version of 'Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory', a good movie to come home to. Afterwards I checked the plane's flight path and found that I had a 200 mph tail wind speeding me home. That felt good too.
Mostly I listened to the Dark Tower on CD. I was surprised when a character in the story cried off the quest and went home... or a home of sorts. It happened because though the character wanted to see the Dark Tower very badly, he knew that it would destroy him. After great hardship and many miles, he turned around and went home. And, in the end, his is the happiest ending.
Stephen King wrote shortly thereafter about the Gunslinger: 'It occurred to him that if he never loved them, he would never have felt so alone as this.'
I finished the Dark Tower on the plane ride. I wrote pages and pages on the ending, trying to make sense of it. But I'll say no more. You'll just have to read it for yourself.
An hour before we reached San Francisco one of the stewards asked for a medical professional on the intercom system. An Indian man came from the back of the plane and spoke with him before disappearing into first class. A few minutes later two people cleared a row of seats four rows in front of me and carried in a girl not much older than myself. She was unconscious. The doctor looked at her and a stewardess came over with a few bottles full of pills and a medical instrument that I couldn't place.
I wanted to see what was wrong and to help very badly, but there didn't seem to be anything I could do. I didn't have the training or the knowledge to help in those regards, and there were already a number of stewards and stewardesses keeping cool heads and doing the gopher work. As I choked on my helplessness I wondered if maybe I should become a doctor.
I don't know. I want to do everything, but am able to do very little.
The plane was an hour early. Paramedics got the girl out of the cabin quickly, but didn't seem concerned. As I disembarked from the plane I saw her in a wheel chair and looking very woozy. I think she ended up alright.
I got my baggage and went to wait for my parents to arrive. I was unable to find a pay phone (they exist in San Francisco International Airport, but are tucked away in an alcove) and so I sat for about an hour next to a very old woman who didn't speak any English. Mostly I yawned a lot and tried not to fall asleep, having been awake for around twenty-two hours straight at that point.
When my parents arrived my Mom ran halfway across the terminal on her bum knee to hug me. I was very happy to be home.
Back in Moss Beach, things have been nice and not so nice.
The people that I love are here. I saw my grandparents and aunt shortly after returning, and they all said that they had been worried and were happy to have me back home. Last weekend I went to the zoo with my Mom and Brother. I watched the gorillas and thought about creating a story where gorillas could talk and had their own lands adjacent to those of humans. They look so very human, especially in the eyes and body language. My dog is wearing down, but still seems cheerful enough, even if he's having trouble getting up and down the stairs these days. Everyone is happy to see me, but he seems to be the happiest.
It smells wonderful here. The air and the ocean, the smell when I carved a pumpkin for Halloween, the smell of the rain and of American cooking. I like these things very much.
In many ways, I am contented.
But I find myself disillusioned. My Mother and Father think that I should apply to graduate school, get a MA in history and go from there; pretty much the same plan that I've been on. But while in Korea I found so many holes in this plan, and I don't have any great desire to do it.
Really, I don't have any great desire to do anything except to involve myself in the stories of imaginary worlds and peoples. I've been reading and writing and playing video games. I haven't even returned to training at my studio in Tae Kwon Do.
I'm questioning a lot of things now. I had a dream for years in college of getting a doctorate in history, and yet in going to Korea I found so many things wrong with that dream. I'm questioning what I want to do, and I'm coming up empty. I'm questioning why I want to study, why I want to write, why I want to train, and I'm not getting a lot of answers. I would just forge ahead, but it seems like I've been doing that for years. It didn't serve me well here.
I feel like I just want to stay here for awhile and do nothing at all. The paradox is that there is a part of me that hates that impulse, that says that if I want to make something of myself I'd better get to it. This part can never be happy unless I'm progressing.
And so I ask, towards what? For what purpose? What do I want, and what is possible?
So here I am. What makes I man great, I wonder? How does he get there? What does he find? And why does he make the journey?
I've gotten lost. I don't know what to do right now, and I find myself turning away from the question.
I learned a lot about myself in Korea, I think. Or maybe I learned that I don't know much about myself at all.
Regards,
Jonathan
