Burdens and bitches

Yesterday I came home to find 17 pairs of underwear waiting for me, bought by my grandmother, who keeps saying that she would like to buy me stuff before I leave Korea. Seventeen pairs!

At first I was pleased but not wild with enthusiasm, since they weren't the style I'd buy myself. But then I realized that this was a perfect gift for my upcoming lifestyle. You remember college life, don't you? When you're a student, your underwear count determines how long you can go without doing laundry. With the little collection I've built up in the past few months, I can probably get through the first semester with no more than a handful of visits to the laundry room!

Which is way more information than you wanted to know. But there you go. Just try to forget it now. Can't, can you? Mwah hah.

I fell to talking about law school finances with my dad last night, and suddenly became unspeakably depressed about it. It would be one thing to go so deeply into debt if it were something I really, truly wanted to do. But it isn't. My dad offered to help out with the amount that I have to put in, but I don't feel comfortable taking his money, for a number of reasons.

My Taiwanese friend Vivian told me that I should just take the money, because, "it's different in Asia. Parents are happy when they can help their kids," she explained. "I think your dad will be happy if you accept his help."

My dad himself mentioned something similar when I told him that my grandmother had offered to buy me my glasses two weeks ago. (I'd refused.) "It makes her happy to spend money on you," he said.

I guess. But I still don't like it.

Thinking about how much doubt I'm feeling about my next move, I took a look last night at the journal I'd kept in the months before moving to Korea in 2002. Reading it reminded me that I had vacillated about coming in the fall or the winter, and that I had been terribly, terribly anxious about coming to Korea.

Maybe going to law school is the same thing. Maybe it's just nerves.

Like before a wedding.

To the wrong guy.

Just kidding.

Speaking of wrong guys, I was astonished to see how much of a total bitch I was to John the last few months of our relationship. That's seriously what I thought as I read over some of my entries recording conversations we had had: "God, what a total bitch!" The really astonishing thing is that I didn't realize how controlling, emotional manipulative, and passive aggressive I was being. (Hi, mom!)

This isn't me just saying that because I'm trying to sanctify John. I know I've done that to some extent before. Lord knows John had and has his faults, like the rest of us. But this time, I really was horrified to read about my actions.

For instance, on Aug. 27, 2002:

Last night John told me that he got a job paying $15.50 an hour, selling knives. That he's only going to take one class this semester, to ease into school. That he thought about it and decided it's the best thing to do, and that he'll do the full course load next semester.

I told him I disagreed, and that upset him, of course.

Then I called him back and was very upset. I told him -- first, he never asked me about what I thought, he just decided this on his own. Second, the break was for us to do things we had to do - his thing being school. I didn't think we had taken a break so he could take one class and work. And finally, I tried to explain the real me, the real reason I was upset. Me. That I wanted him to be something else. And I didn't know whether to try to shape him into that, or entirely let him be, or what. But the bottom line being that I didn't love him for himself, as he does me. I love him, but on condition, and I don't know how not to.

"Do you know how that makes me feel?" he asked.

I interrupted: "I know, it makes me feel like crap too!"

Finally, he said, "I don't know what to say to you. I think the break is for you to figure out what you want from this relationship, and for you to see if someone else is better, I guess. And I guess for me to figure out what I want too. I appreciate that you want me to be something more than I am. But I'm going to make my own choices. And it's really on you, I guess. I love you, but you have to decide what you want from this relationship."

He suggested I talk it over with my shrink. And then he said, "I have to go, I need to finish The Odyssey in two days."

"I know," I said.

"I love you," he said.

"I know."

You see what I mean? What a mean, immature, withholding bee-yotch.

I know I've grown and changed more in these past two years than any other two-year period of my life. I hope that maturation extends to my behavior in relationships. 'Cause lord knows I don't want to be that bitch. A lifetime of apologies wouldn't be enough to make up for the shit I pulled with John.