My father tells me that the first sentence I ever spoke was "Get me out of this prison!" And it seems that it was screamed from the confines of my crib, rather than mumbled quietly to myself. It makes me wonder... at what age do our personalities begin to take shape? Do observations we have as children impact who we become as adults? I've never taken well to authority figures, of any form. The bars of a crib could definetely represent authority and instill a feeling of being trapped. Some people fail to recognize that they're trapped, others are hyper-aware of it. I fit into the latter category. As soon as I begin to feel that I don't have options, I feel emotionally suffocated. I've encountered this feeling again and again, but for some reason, it keeps coming back. Were these cries from the crib an early sign of where my values would lie? An indication of how I would view the world?
My family had some rough years. In fact, many of the years were rough. I'll spare you the details, but here's the basics. My parents separated when I was fourteen. As the oldest child, I was cast in the role of official go-between. To complicate the situation, I was also placed in the precarious role of third parent to Tyler and Travis. Circumstances being what they were, I fought alot. With everyone. I was without an ally, it seemed. Tyler and Travis has each other, but I was the odd man out. I wasn't a parent and wasn't a kid. At any rate, fighting insued with Mom, then with Dad. During high school, I bounced back and forth between their houses, depending on who I was less angry with. And I felt trapped. I felt I had outgrown some of the roles I was being asked to play, but was too young for others. How can you impose a curfew on the third parent? In many ways, I felt I had outgrown high school after grade ten. My preoccupations were different than the people who surrounded me. I wanted to move out on my own. I had grown up, but my age was holding me back. I still had to put in three years in high school, despite the fact that I felt ready to move on. Maybe I was, maybe I wasn't- it's hard to say. My memories of my high school years are hazy... as are most of my memories. Grade twelve ended, and I moved out. I felt free, casting away the invisible bars that had kept me at home longer than I cared to stay. But then I began to see them in other places. Calgary began to feel too small, too clausterphobic. It seemed there wasn't enough space, not enough variety. I felt trapped by my options. I was studying theatre, but felt uninspired by my surroundings. Calgary and I differed in values. Calgary is a good fit for business people, but is still a stretch for artists. At least for young, idealistic artists. I thought theatre had powerful potential and should be used to change and challenge. But before changing the world, I needed to know what to challenge. I wasn't sure what about Calgary no longer fit, but I was feeling trapped. Then one day I was on the train coming back from school, and there were two young men, only a couple years older than me, dressed in suits and talking about their life insurance policies. And it occured to me that this was why Calgary no longer fit. I didn't ever want to talk about life insurance. My apologies to anyone who feels passionately about the insurance industry, but I can't imagine anything more boring. I didn't want to live in a sprawling urban city where people commuted downtown only to work, and then returned immediately to their castles in the suburbs. I didn't want to shop at the Gap or eat at Red Lobster, but it seemed other options were few and far between. What were my options? It suddenly hit me- I needed to leave. Just as I had done after graduating high school, I packed up my things and moved.
I arrived in Montreal and felt refreshed, excited. But my first year in Montreal was painfully difficult and I remember returning to Calgary for Christmas, not wanting to leave. But soon things began to change. The things that had trapped me in Calgary were absent in Montreal. When I arrived, the only Starbucks there was in Chapters. Many big chain restaurants didn't want to bother with the complications of Bill 101 (law restricting the use of the English language), so they never came to Montreal. Montreal is proudly free of Red Lobster, Olive Garden, 7-11 and other such American chains. It was exactly what I needed. Second only to New York for restaurants per capita, Montreal has an overwhelming number of choices, and most are family-owned. In fact, Red Lobster closed down in Quebec years ago because they were unable to compete with family-owned restaurants that offered better food at lower prices. Far from the apathy of the University of Calgary, Concordia students protested everything. There were posters in the hallways encouraging people to vote against a 60 cent raise per credit in fees. Coming from a school that was steadily increasing their tuition by a couple hundred dollars a year and no one complained, I loved the activity. Until one day I skipped class because there were snipers on the roof of my school. Sometimes political activity goes too far, which is something I never would have admitted in my pre-Concordia days. But I was feeling trapped here too. When I'd gone to school in Alberta, the government had handed me a big cheque in September and told me not to bother them until the following year. In Quebec, they sent tiny cheque after tiny cheque- consistently late and never quite enough. I finally found a job at a restaurant in the Old Port and lasted there for a year and a half. But when you're paying Quebec tax, a minimum wage restaurant job plus tips will leave you with enough to buy a coffee, if you're lucky. I was tired of making choices out of necessity. I didn't want to turn down auditions because I couldn't afford to miss a day of work at my bad job. So I moved to Korea.
Land of the Morning Calm. And so it is- morning is just about the only time things are calm here. My new life in Korea promised stability- paid accomodations, cheap bills and a good paying job. With money in the bank, I suddenly have options. I can save it, spend it on new toys, travel or pay back my student loans (but that's as boring as life insurance). There are so many options! Here I am, immersed in a different culture and learning more and more about myself and the world. I am living by myself for the first time. Over the last seven months, I've begun feeling like I'm coming up to decision time. At some point soon, I'll have to decide what I want to do with my life. Maybe that was the real reason I felt out of place in Calgary- everyone seemed to know what they were doing. I still haven't quite figured it out. The very thought of returning to a customer service job makes me ill. I'm experiencing a quarter life crisis here. I understand why people move to Korea and never go home. What are we going home to? Proud as we are of what we have in Canada, I think much of it comes about in media manipulation. Our health care system is not as good as we think it is. Who cares if it's free? It's just not good. Korean health care costs 25$ a month and includes cheap trips to the dentist. My friend had her wisdom teeth pulled for 7$. Once a month when it's time for me to pay my cell phone bill, I walk into the LG store and slap 10$ on the table- and I have to admit that I'm always slightly annoyed that I have to pay it at all. Going home will a rude awakening for me. But as the weather heats up- and the air- hot, humid and heavy with pollution becomes thicker and thicker I reach for my summer clothes. Then I remember that wearing a tank top will find me in the prostitute category for all those Korean men not accustomed to seeing exposed shoulders. And I already draw enough attention and unwanted conversation, so instead I put on T-Shirts and dream of cool days in Montreal. My co-workers question me as to why I'm not married, as though there's something wrong with me. Their goal is to find a man and they look at me with pity because I'm living alone. They can't understand why I would leave Canada without my boyfriend- and probably secretly suspect he doesn't exist. After all, no Korean woman would leave her boyfriend behind. And so here I also feel trapped. Trapped by customs and beliefs that go back centuries. I feel trapped in my job- many of the elements guaranteed me in my contract, have been ignored. In Canada, I wouldn't hesitate to throw a tantrum and storm out the door. But here, my employer pays my apartment. Storming out the door means I lose my 2500$ contract bonus, my plane ticket home, and my damage deposit. En plus, I need written permission from my boss to get another job in Korea. I'm stuck. But I've made it almost eight months, and only have another four ahead of me. I just happened to land myself a bad job and didn't act fast enough. I should have quit in December, but I was pacing my demands and now I don't have a choice. And it drives me nuts. I'm counting down to the end of my contract, even though it's going to be hard to leave Korea- I can't wait to be finished with my boss. I have never before felt so trapped, because in this case, there really are no choices. Turning him into immigration also means the loss of all my bonuses, so I'm forced to keep my mouth shut and count down the days. I've never been good at keeping my mouth shut... here's hoping I can do it for just another four and a half months.
The experiences I've had in Calgary, Montreal and now in Seoul have all taught me something about myself. All signs seem to be pointing towards working for myself. I can't handle authority, therefore I can't handle a boss. I'm beginning to think that what I do to make money is less important to me than the lifestyle that I enjoy. I think I would be perfectly happy doing almost anything- so long as I made my own schedule and don't have to abide by someone else's rules. As long as I never have to put on another uniform, or sit near a cubicle wall. Because the uniform and the cubicle walls are just like the bars that held me in my crib. Designed to keep you in- to keep you looking and behaving in a certain way. The uniform, the cubicles- they're dehumanizing, generic and fighting to keep you looking and acting in a way that the company has deemed appropriate. They encourage you to feel as though you're part of a team, but insist that you keep your workspace and your uniform free of personal items- anything that gives a hint of an existence outside the confines of the work environment. After all, we wouldn't want you feeling too comfortable here.
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