Gyu

∞

Hi, me again! Gyu here! God, did that sound really perky. T_T But yes, it’s me again. I’m still here at Manila Express. Anyway, there’s so much to write and yeah, even though I said I’d talk about my life, I still wanted to make sure if it was right to write it down. I texted Kenji about it:

Went along like:

[Hyung, I’m gonna do that journal you’re making me do. Maybe I should write about my life, yeah?]

He still hasn’t replied, which is usual. That’s how Kenji usually is. That .

Anyway, Kenji. He’s a friend; probably the first one I made here in Manila. He’s half-Japanese, half-Filipino — one of those mestizos1? I think that’s what Pinoys2 like to call them. Well, Kenji’s one of them, and it’s really obvious. He’s tall, like 5”9 or something, a little taller than me and he’s buffer than me, probably good genes or steroids or something because he has this nice body that the girls like to watch but Kenji’s a total bum. He likes to play on the Playstation and eat crap and he’d make me eat them as well and ugh. Annoying.

But he’s a good friend. He’s sporting this long hair thing that’s really in now, manbuns and what and he looks totally legit with it — explains the fangirls. He’s in AB English with me and he likes to talk about pop lit and all that stuff (he likes this guy named Murakami or something) but he’s pretty okay, even if he’s a little too moody at times.

So, yeah. Kenji made me do this. I guess it was one of those days where he realizes I was basically doing nothing with myself, even when I’m neck-deep in school requirements. So, he just goes like:

“You should write a journal, Kell. I think it’d be good for you, you’ve got some skill.”

Pfft, and he sounds like some snooty professor or what. Oh, and he likes to call me ‘Kellan’, or ‘Kell’ for short. When people like us Koreans migrate, we apparently get English names because people find it hard to call us by our real names. Mine’s Kellan, and I don’t like it but what can I do. It was done, plus it was mom who picked it…so yeah.

But he had a point, though. Kenji was this guy who likes to write, and he did write good — he says it’s just 90% prose and 10% plot but eh, what do I know? I’m studying English so I could go back home and get a decent job so my parents would shut up about me not shaming them. It’s not that I hate my parents, mind you. It just gets annoying from time to time when they keep pushing stuff like that on me, even when dad tries to say it jokingly.

“Gyu, when you graduate and you get a good job in Seoul, save enough money so we can live in Songpa-gu.”

He’d laugh this booming laugh that would make mom roll her eyes like it was some bad joke she’s gotten used to and put more meat on my plate, telling me to ignore him.

It wasn’t that bad. Dad’s pretty funny most of the time, it just gets me how much they rely on me though. I guess I can see it. Dad’s forty-four and mom’s thirty-nine and with parents that old, you don’t really get that many chances at employment opportunities.

But anyway, forget that. I can tell you all about my problems later, Kenji’s where the deal’s at. Or wait, I guess I’ll finish this later. Apparently, it’s closing time. This is funny because at midnight, this would be the time the shops in Seoul starts opening their business.

Guess it’s one of those tiny differences. Not that Manila is a backwater town — it’s the capital after all, but the central district (Makat-i? Maka-ti?) is where everything’s alive and where I am, well, it’s one of the quieter ones,  I guess. Not much to it but some shops and just long winding roads. In Seoul, the entire city would be alive, like almost every district would be booming, but I’m sure it’s different anywhere else in Korea, right? Jeonju can get really quiet late into the night, or as dad says.

Ick. It just started to rain. I knew I should have brought that jacket.

∞

Kenji’s always told me that having dreams is a good thing. He doesn’t mean the random you get when you’re eight hours past your bedtime and you pass out. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t mean that. :P

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