There has been a complaint lodged against this blog,

accusing me of not updating frequently enough.  It was lobbied at me by my 18-year-old sister, who claimed that I am “sitting around waiting for other people to write” my posts.  To this I respond: No need to get snarky.  If you want to guest blog, just ask.

But really, I am fully aware that I do not tend to this site with true dedication.  If it were a plant, it would have to be a cactus, if it were hair it would be tangled, and if it were an animal, it would be a fat one.  (Because it would have to live off its blubber.  Because I don’t feed it enough.  See?)  On my previous blog, I often received the opposite comment: How do you manage to keep up with it so frequently?  How do you come up with enough stuff to say?

My problem is not a lack of fodder.  My boyfriend will readily attest to the fact that I have no shortage of “stuff” to say.  No, there are several factors at play here, the largest being laziness.  Writing, like any exercise, is easiest to produce when you are in a routine.  So to all you haters (I’ve always wanted to say that as of this moment): What was the last blog you daily maintained for longer than a month?  And to the bloggers who have daily blogged for a month, when was the last time you daily worked out at the gym for a month?

Alright, but I’m mostly being silly, and my tone is being quite a wriggly little creature.  The purpose of this post is a mega-life update: I’m moving to South Korea next month!  I say “South,” because an alarming amount of (alarmed) people have double checked with me that when I say Korea I do indeed mean South.  (Which is an upgrade on the responses I got when I told people I was moving to Sweden, as nobody mixes Korea up with Switzerland.  I guess they’ve distinguished themselves by acquiring some rocket goodies.)  Yes, I’m moving to South Korea, not North.  Though a tiny, repressed, journalist part of me feels  a small thrill at the idea of being in a potential warzone.

I will actually be moving to Paju, which borders N.Korea and hosts military bases (and has fences running along it marking the de-militarized zone).

Here is a map of where my school is.

And for all you worriers: my recruiter has assured me that I will be perfectly safe.  He only has a smallish financial interest in me accepting this job.  Furthermore, I have already lived through one war and am an expert at being evacuated.  (*Not entirely true.  Apparently I didn’t like the look of the C130 that was there to evacuate us, and I turned around and marched off into the other direction.)

Anyways, if this news is sudden to you, it’s sudden to me as well.  Last week my visa paperwork finally cleared and I had an interview with two schools.  I turned the first down, and am accepting the second one.

And now, the greatly anticipated sequel to the sequel of “Things my boyfriend and I have argued about.”

Things my boyfriend and I have argued about: Part 3

– His “cat allergies.”  “Allergies” are the excuse of choice for cat haters all over the world.  They reckon that a medical excuse legitimizes their fear/distrust of all things feline.  My boyfriend claims to have cat allergies, but is always belligerent when it comes to the suggestion of medicating himself in the event of any future potential cats I might own.  He becomes particularly defensive when I question the reality of the existence his or any person’s cat allergies.  And, yes, I might sound like I’m exaggerating, but I have met people with “allergies” who have unwittingly shared rooms with cats without any reaction.

– My flying phobia.  He mostly laughs at me about this, but occasionally he seems frustrated by it’s lack of logic.  It isn’t logical – that’s why it’s called an irrational fear.  To his computermathelectronicohsoevolved mind, irrational fears have no place in my daily life.

– My nail polish habits.  He is weirdly obsessive about me not leaving the remainder of my nail polish on my nails.  Once, under the pretext of holding my hand, he surreptitiously rubbed off the remnants of my nailpolish with his fingernail.  I now have no choice but to leave it on as a matter of principle (women’s rights, etc.).  Oh, and because I’m lazy.

This song has been in my head:

“Supposing he says that you’re sweeter in cream
And he’s gotta have cream or die? “