Maybe I Worry Too Much

I love making connections with my students, which is actually decently easy, at least when it comes to shared interests. It's a bit scary how many interests I share with the average middle school student. Marvel? Check. KPOP? Check. YA novels? Double check. I manage to keep a pretty good awareness of what the Youth is into these days, but there are always a few kids with whom I'm able to have what feels like a real friendship. I think I caught a new one.

He's one of my first years but he's one of those 14 year olds who is already starting to act like the adult he'll become (only 19 but my mind is older). He's considerate and helpful. At the same time, though, he is as 14 as a human can be. His pop culture obsessions are all-consuming, his dreams are sky-high, and he's constantly trying to shock me with the sentences he comes up with in class.

Which brings me to another reason why I love this kid. He loves Captain America. No I mean. A lot. As in, has on multiple occasions informed me that he wants to marry the guy. I can't blame him, let's be real. I first discovered this when we played MASH and he was thrilled to get the future of living on a yacht in Hawaii with his husband Steve Rogers and their golden retriever. I then informed him to watch out or I'd kill him and steal his life. Because seriously. A yacht? Hawaii? Chris Evans AND a dog? And thus, a friendship was born.

I started keeping an eye on him, thinking the Captain America thing was probably just a joke or a fluke. But bits and bobs kept adding up. On a dreams and goals project, some of his dreams for the future included "have a GF" and "have a BF". Interesting, I thought. Verrrrrrrry interesting. When he jokingly referred to Civil War as a romance movie, I agreed and added that to my list of clues.

A couple weeks later, I showed him my Captain America and Iron Man socks (yes I bought a pair of each and mismatched them so they are couple socks fight me) and he informed me, in no uncertain terms, that while he "ships Stony" he ships "himself with Cap more". Sorry Bucky, guess he's not a fan.

So there's that. Gotta love the confidence.

Long story longer, do I have a queer kid in my class?? He's lived abroad for quite a few years, and his English is impeccable. From our conversations, he seems very open-minded and worldly. He was trying to get me to use the word "steamy" in a madlib, and since then I had to explain to the rest of the class what steamy meant...I will never forgive him.

Part of me wants to ask him outright, but I don't want to scare him off. Another part of me worries about him. Korea is not the most...accepting of countries? It's getting better but it's still not exactly a haven for anyone that's "different" in any way. I always try to be inclusive in my lessons, and obviously I never freak out when they accuse each other of being gay, but I'm not sure what else I should be doing to connect with this kid. I just want him to be safe and happy, but I also don't want to assume anything.

Being a teacher is hard, guys. At least they give me candy sometimes.

I Can't Think Straight

Oh, the irony.

The year goes round and round and here we are again, just past National Coming Out Day. As a friend recently said on twitter, "It's National Coming Out Day, the day I angst about my label every year and shuffle off into the depths to try and find something that works."

Too real, man. Too real. I can recall, but I've probably had stress dreams about people asking me to define my sexuality. Somehow, the more labels I have to choose from, the harder it is to find one that applies. I've defaulted to an awkward "Well, I'm not straight...?" but that seems like such a lame copout. What's a girl to do?

In my life, I've mostly dated men, but my first kiss was with a girl. I was a tomboy in high school, but now I prefer dresses and winged eyeliner. At a glance, I appear as straight as a Roman road, but my heart could never travel that same path. 

There are so many politics in the world of orientation. Do I count as bi if I've only ever had sex with men, despite making out with girls? Why do straight people get to count even before they've had sex? Is all of this just in my head? Am I inventing problems that don't exist? Probably.

I was lucky enough to end up with an incredibly non-straight group of friends in high school and university, to the point that for a while, I actually thought I might be straight, just because I wasn't nearly as gay as the average person sitting next to me. I guess it's a bit like thinking you're a terrible dancer because all your friends are ballerinas, only to go to a wedding in Oklahoma and watch someone else's dad try to dance to Frank Sinatra. Ah, you think. So that's the other end of things.

It's weird living in Korea, as well. This country is so backwards, socially. Someone once told me it's like 2050 technologically and 1950 socially. Maybe it's better in the big city, but out here in the country? I can't imagine what it must be like for the young people trying to define themselves. I've had to field quite a few questions from my students, about everything from how many lesbians there are in the US (many??) to whether I know (and I quote) "any transgenders"? Let me tell you, trying to explain, in simple English, very briefly, why someone would want to transition is not something I would wish upon anyone. At the same time, that's one thing I love about being a teacher.

So yeah. Here are my scattered and disorganized musings on my sexuality in light of National Coming Out Day. While it's a lovely thought to imagine a world where there are no assumptions made and anyone could be anything without having to explain themselves, it's not a world I see coming soon. Besides, labels can be fun, and even positive, so long as you get to choose the ones that feel right. I just wish I knew which ones those were, for me, as a confused non-straight weirdo.

Big Fall Blowout!

So last week, I had one of those days. You know the kind. It starts simple. Maybe you wake up 10 minutes late and run out the door without your breakfast. Then you spill looseleaf tea all over your office, which leads to you leaving your photocopied worksheets in said office, causing you to be late to class. When it rains, as they say, it pours annoying minor misfortunes on your head.

Therefore, I wasn't even a LITTLE bit surprised to walk out after work and find that, lo and behold, the battery in my car had died. Why? Who knows. Even the repairman who came out to give me a jump seemed perplexed, and that's never a good sign. But hey, it's a 12 year old car. It's seen a lot. I call him Clint for a reason. He's doing his best.

Now, more than anything I'd been looking forward to getting home, taking a nap, and having a nice relaxing evening. No worries, I thought, I'll just take a nice little drive out to the countryside and back in order to charge my battery. Got a nice book on tape and a granola bar, life is good.

I should have known. I should have effing known that my bad luck couldn't end there. About 20 minutes out of town, my right front tire blew up.

F**k this shit I'm out!

See that tiny tire waaay in the background? Yeah. That used to be on my car. Pretty cool, right? This is how it happened: I was driving along, happy as you please, when suddenly my car jerked like a Great Dane that's just seen her best friend on the other side of the street and has conveniently forgotten that her owner is on the other end of the leash. I slowed from about 50 km/hr in a matter of seconds and tried to keep my car from shuddering off the road.

As I told a friend soon after the incident, at first I thought the road was messed up, then quickly realized that it was my own car that was messed up. Luckily there was space to pull over soon, and the second I stopped moving and the reek of burnt rubber wafted in through my windows, I could guess what had happened.

fuck

It was worse than I'd even expected. The best part was, the car hadn't been running long enough to charge the battery, so as I climbed out of my car to survey the damage, I had to leave the engine on as a bonus backdrop to my onrushing panic attack. Each frantic breath just brought in more of the acrid reek of rubber. I wasn't entirely sure where I was. I was hungry and cold, not entirely dressed for the weather.

I breathed.

Luckily, my insurance comes with an app that will contact local repair shops and send people out to fix you up. So I punch in my info and wait for the call, only to realize that once they called, I would have to know where the hell I was. I knew the name of the small town that was nearby, but I was pretty sure that and my rudimentary Korean skill was not going to be enough.

Luck! Across the road, an older lady was waiting at the bus stop. As the mechanic spoke to me like a child after I asked him to slow down, I sprinted across the 2 lane highway and desperately pushed my phone into her hands with a plea to "explain this location." All was well. The mechanic was on his way. She gave me her phone number and told me to text her when I made it back into town.

Eventually, the mechanic showed up, and to my embarrassment, it was the same man who had fixed my battery not one hour before. He asked a few questions and I fumbled my way through answers, and in the end it was decided that we'd have to call a tow truck, and I'd need to buy two new tires. Apparently they come in packs of two. Learning!

Instead of waiting on the side of the road, we left my keys hidden on the ruined rim of what used to be a tire and drove back to the repair shop together. We sat in silence for a while, each of my muscles tensed from anxiety barely held in check.

"How many times have we met?"

It took me a second to realize what he asked and understand the question, but finally I hazarded "Twice?"

Turns out it was actually our third time meeting; he'd replaced my battery a few months ago, and he assured me that my car wasn't garbage, it was just old. These things are natural.

"This is a great day. Do you know why?"

I hesitated to answer, worrying that I was now stuck in a car with a mechanic trying to hit on me.

"No one was hurt! Your car could have flipped over! It could have been serious. But it wasn't. So, today is an amazing day. Right?"

I supposed it was. As I sat in the office waiting for my new tires, watching the pet channel and sipping bad instant coffee, waiting for my muscles to unknot themselves, I couldn't stop thinking about that. Today is a great day because all the things that could have happened didn't happen, which was pretty much in perfect opposition to what I'd been thinking all day.

All this to say I made it home safe and my little trashwagon is puttering along smoothly once again. I'm grateful that there are kind mechanics and women at bus stops to help me when I feel like the world is giving me a tough break.

Why Do You Go Away? So You Can Come Back

Well, I've been there and back again as Tolkien would put it, and with the customary chests of gold to prove it, so long as chests can be suitcases and gold can consist of quinoa, clothing, candles, and many other things that don't start with /k/, if you can believe it. Allow me my alliteration, alright?

Anyway (sorry, sorry, I promise I'll stop), I've been back from vacation for about three weeks, which means I finally have the energy and presence of mind to write about, well, anything. Jetlag is rough, kids. Add that to the horrendously hot weather, and my sleep has been, in a word, crappy.

Each trip home has been weird in a different way. The first year it was mostly exciting and a bit surreal. My life in Korea started to feel like a dream, and I was surprised upon coming back to find everything exactly where I'd left it. My second visit was just odd and stressful and unsettled- I feel like I never really got my balance. And this year?

This year was the first time I felt any strong desire to move back home. I met my friends, and saw the lives they were living, and for a moment I thought...this could be me. Do I want this to be me?

I've been in Korea long enough now that a lot of the great things have become invisible, which puts the negative things up in sharp contrast. Some things are specific to Korea, while others are things that come with living in a country where you don't speak the language fluently. It's dumb, but the the Korea-specific complaint that I always go back to is bars. I used to love just popping into a local place around 5 or 6 PM, not to get drunk, but to sip on a drink at the bar and write or meet people. One time I talked for an hour with a guy who owned a company that cleaned up houses of hoarders or after a dead body wasn't found for a long time. Gross but fascinating.

It's also much harder to make friends and develop relationships, partially because of cultural differences, but also because of the language barrier. I wouldn't say it's necessarily difficult, but it's certainly more of a challenge. That's probably one of the biggest lures of moving back to Seattle or the US. Not only do I have a preexisting collection of friends, I know the rules of social engagement much better. 

However, for every positive outcome I could get by moving back the US, there is an equal and opposite negative outcome. Whenever I imagine moving, I forget that I won't be able to bring my well-paying job and rent-free living situation with me. I'd have to deal with the horrible US healthcare situation again. I'd go back to cat-calling and gun violence and an inability to afford an apartment of my own. That's a big one, I must admit. Living alone is a gift I'm not sure I'm willing to part with just yet.

I'm lucky to have the job that I have, to be able to support myself at 26, debt-free, with the ability to travel on my own dime, and not have to stress about the bill at a fancy restaurant most of the time. Any time I start to complain, I try to remind myself of that. Not in a "there are STARVING CHILDREN in [insert stereotypical poor country] so EAT your green beans for crissakes" but in a more...count your blessings sort of way. Visiting home every summer is a great way to remind me of that.

All That You Can't (But Must) Leave Behind

Moving to Korea was one of the best decisions of my life, but that doesn't mean it's always sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows. It's a trade-off, I suppose-- for every step I take toward building a life for myself here, I'm taking one more step away from the life I had back in the states. I know I've written about this before, but it's something I keep spiraling back to. I have a bizarre form of that trendy new malady FOMO, a fear of missing out on the things I'd have been doing had I not moved to Korea.

The most obvious thing to miss is family events. No matter how much you email and check Facebook and Skype, so many things fall through the cracks. My aunt went through a huge medical situation and I had no idea how serious it was until I visited home well after the fact and heard the whole story. That really spooked me.

While I must admit I don't miss my family as much as I feel I should (sorry mom!), my younger sister is the one who really gets to me. She's 5 years younger, at that age when she's changing so fast and learning so much about herself and the world, and I really wish I could be closer, to step back into my role of Cool Older Sister who Already Made All The Mistakes. Not that she won't make mistakes...but I could at least save her a bit of time on some of them.

I guess every decision has two sides. Huh. That sounded much deeper and more revelatory in my head. This has always been an issue for me, for as long as I can remember. I don't regret taking the road less traveled, and neither would I regret taking the road more traveled, but I get really anxious about the road not traveled. The second I choose one, I'm POSITIVE the other would have been better. If I choose to stay home for vacation, a nagging voice tells me I should have traveled. If I choose to travel, the same voice says I should have stayed home and saved my money. I'm the human version of a cat-- the moment I'm let outside, all I want in the world is to be let back in.

This is probably nothing special, but it drives me crazy, as much as I've learned to ignore it. It's a basic problem of not being able to trust myself. I don't know what I want, or maybe I'm too easily satisfied. But is being satisfied enough? Who knows.

I'm 26 now, almost 27, and while I know that that's not old any way you count it, the speed at which time passes is starting to get to me. It doesn't help that so many of my friends and coworkers in Korea who are around the same age as me are getting married and having children, and many of the people I know back home are buying houses and moving up in their careers, while I'm just sitting here...living a life that hasn't changed much in two years. Sure, I'm a better teacher than I was 3 years ago. My apartment is nicer. My Korean has improved. But to go back to a metaphor I use too often, all of this just feels like grinding for XP. I've been leveling up my abilities and now it's time to start a new questline, but I can't seem to find anyone with that telltale exclamation point above their heads.

There are all sorts of new life stages to move into. Getting married is one that a lot of people around me are doing, and while I'm certainly not ready for that, I feel a similar push to start moving toward something bigger. More and more I think that something is grad school, but that means letters of recommendation and a great deal of money and every time I think about it I feel immediately overwhelmed and end up scrolling through tumblr mindlessly for an hour. This, unfortunately, is my main response to hardship and difficulty.

I suppose the real issue here is that I hate uncertainty. Once I have a goal, I'm stubborn enough that I generally pull it off even though I'm a bit of a human tire fire with a tendency to do things wrong in new and creative ways! I guess if you fuck up enough times in a row it makes a positive? So far, that seems to be the way I've worked my way through life, but since it's gotten me this far, I guess it works. Plus I have no idea how to change.

So, that's where I am right now, older than I ever considered myself being. When you're sixteen and dreaming of a better future, 25 seems like a lifetime away. Now that I'm past that, the world is stretching out before me like an overused first snow metaphor, and I'm stuck in place, afraid to leave the wrong footprints.

This Accelerating Contradiction

Being alone has never really bothered me. I was an only child growing up, and whenever a play-date wasn't an option, I was perfectly happy playing pretend in my room for hours, reading, or (most embarrassingly) learning how to make databases on my mom's Windows 3.1 computer. There were so many floppy disks. It wasn't even connected to the internet. Am I dating myself?

Maybe I'm getting more introverted as I get older, or maybe I'm just noticing it more, but these days it's getting harder and harder to force myself out of the house. Through all my years of shared bedrooms and roommates, I always knew I'd love living alone--I just never knew how much. I spend all day turned up to eleven at school; I have to keep my students energized, talk to coworkers, and constantly switch back and forth between Korean and English (and sometimes Japanese when the kids try to mess with me). It is, in a word, socially exhausting. The feeling of stepping into my apartment and closing the door to the outside world is magical.

Most people who've met me have a hard time believing this, because I have an uncanny ability to talk to just about anyone, but socializing is not something I'm naturally good at. I had to train myself, and going to a party or even just going to work still requires a certain...different persona. When I worked in cafes and restaurants, I called it my Customer Service Face. It's the face that smiles at rude customers, that cracks cheerful jokes no matter what's going on behind the scenes, that can run on autopilot through most types of small talk. It's convenient, but exhausting to keep up. When it's cranked into overdrive, I can get home from a party or a day at work and barely remember a thing I said to anyone.

The reason for my aforementioned talk-to-anyone skill is likely my knack for reading people, reading the room, and modulating myself to match. I have to be careful, though, or I'll change so much I don't recognize myself anymore. It's hard for me to stop thinking about how others are perceiving me, how the way I act influences the atmosphere around me. With all but the absolute closest of friends, socializing is like solving a constantly changing puzzle. I'm jealous of those people who seem to always just "be themselves" no matter the occasion. But then again, maybe people think that of me? Who knows.

The upside of having a no-roommate apartment to go back to is that I can more easily recharge after these daily bouts with humanity. The downside is that in order to have friends/any social life at all, it's sort of important to, you know, leave the house. Ever. I know that once I get to the party, to the class, to the bar, what have you, I'll have fun. Usually, socializing is fun, no matter how exhausted I am afterwards. But the problem is, staying home alone is fun 99.99% of the time, and it requires neither a bra nor pants. So you see my problem. I also genuinely enjoy traveling alone. Sure, it's harder to take pictures and eat out in restaurants, but isn't that what the selfie-stick was invented for?

When they invent something that makes eating alone less awkward, I'll be first in line to buy 10.

I may be able to talk to anyone, but making friends has always been difficult for me. It takes me a long time to get close to someone, and my tendency to drop off the face of the earth (socially) from time to time means I lose a lot of friendships that don't have a strong enough foundation yet. Living in Korea has added a bonus boss battle: my friends keep leaving.

It's totally natural. The average stay for native teachers over here is 1-3 years, so it's to be expected that people will come and go. If I were better at making and keeping friends, this wouldn't be such a big deal, but when it takes at least a year for me to feel really close to someone, if they leave right after it's almost like losing out on an investment. This is kind of horrible to say, but it's almost as if I'm an employer who's spent a year training a new recruit only to have them quit. Eventually, I don't want to hire any new people, even though I know I need them. Does that make sense?

There's clearly some lack of logic between what I want to happen and what I do. Case in point: I want to have friends, but what do I do? Avoid my nice neighbor who just wants to get brunch with me because I want to...what? Go for a walk by myself? Stay home and play videogames? I honestly can't understand my motivations in a lot of these situations, and yet they keep happening in the same way. Anxiety is tricky that way, I suppose.

So I guess that's where I am now; trying to find a balance between enjoying solitude and cutting myself off from humanity. Where do I draw the line? When does self-care turn into something bad? Tune in next never for the answer.

How To: Avoid Feeling Homesick

"Don't you miss your family? Aren't you homesick?" These are in the top 10 of questions everyone over here asks me, and while it's nice to know someone is concerned about my well-being, it makes me wonder if I'm the odd one out for not being homesick. This isn't new; I've been wondering about this same topic almost since I first arrived in Korea.

"Now, in the “Counseling Booklet” that Epik has provided me with, they give a very thorough explanation of the various phases of culture shock. The first phase? The “Honeymoon Phase”. The booklet describes this time as “the period just after arrival in a new country…everything appears to be exciting and novel. The individual rarely finds any problems with the new country and may feel euphoric. Many people believe that the new country is flawless.” Ever since I read that passage last week, it’s been floating around in the back of my head. Is my love affair with Korea going to fade into the more negative aspects of culture shock? Am I just romanticising things that, in a few months, I will realize I secretly hate?"

Well, I'm coming up on three years, and while the honeymoon phase is over, I can honestly say that I don't often feel homesick, and when I do, it's not crushing. Instead of ruining my day, it can be an almost enjoyable melancholy or nostalgia. Anyways, since I know that homesickness is a problem that many people deal with, I thought I'd write about my own experiences and how I fend off homesickness. Now, I can't say if any of these will be helpful for you, or even possible, but this is how I, personally, stay so positive in Korea.

Reason the first: Seattle Sucks

My life since middle school has been a long string of getting out of wherever I was. Getting out of middle school, getting out of high school, out of my hometown, and finally out of Seattle, where I went to college. Why a person might not enjoy life in a small town is pretty obvious. With a graduating class of 100, it didn't leave many options as far as friends went, and with a dwindling population and zero job prospects outside of barista, drug dealer, or starving artist (or the triple threat combo) ...well, I didn't waste any time shipping my own self off to college.

After graduating from the University of Washington with a BA in English and the newly kindled desire to teach, I made the big dumb mistake of taking a year off to "rest". Seeing as neither me nor my parents are independently wealthy, I couldn't just sit around for a year reading Marvel comics and drinking coffee, as much as that appealed to me. I needed a job, and with a degree in English from a great school, I was able to get a totally relevant job in the service industry. By relevant I mean totally irrelevant and by service industry I mean a tiny cafe that made crepes. As I was one of the only employees not in school at the time, I ended up going months without a full day off, working 50-60 hours a week, and still barely having the money to cover rent and life expenses. Minimum wage is just so awesome like that.

But at least now I am a certified crepist. Wait...

I was, in a word, miserable. It doesn't help that the weather in Seattle shares most of its characteristics with a damp sock. Even when things are going well in your life, unless you really enjoy overcast gray weather, it's hard to stay positive during the interminably long Seattle winters. And springs. And falls. And sometimes it stays cloudy even though summer, because the other 9 months just weren't enough!

What I'm saying is, probably the biggest reason for my lack of homesickness is that...well...there honestly isn't much for me to miss about home. Yes, I miss my friends and family, but with things like Skype and Facebook and Kakaotalk and email, it's easy to stay in touch on a level that keeps me from feeling the distance. Maybe this isn't the best kind of advice to give, since it boils down to "hate your home" and I know that's not something that most people are going to be able to do. I guess I'm just lucky to have had such a terrible time before I moved.

Get Busy

As they say, idle hands are the devil's...instruments? Playground? Idle minds are the devil's gymnasium? Look, I'm no expert in old sayings but you get what I mean. I think one of the biggest challenges, especially when you first move to a new place, is keeping yourself busy. Everything is going fine, you're feeling good, and then suddenly the weekend comes and you're on your own for two whole days. Personally, I start to feel down in the dumps when I don't have a lot to do, no matter where I'm living, but I feel like this is something that really matters for people who are trying to live in a foreign country. It's easy to feel isolated, and if you're just sitting around in your tiny apartment, that isolation only intensifies. So, instead of spending the whole time laying on your bed watching the English language movie channel and moaning about how much you miss your family/Taco Bell/good cheese, get your butt outside and do something!

"But I don't know Korean!" 

No excuse! Just go for it! Want to order food? Just point at something and hope for the best. Ursula the seawitch had it right: never underestimate the importance of body language. When I first got to Korea I was limited to "Hello" and "Thank you" as far as speaking went, but I was still able to joke with a coworker about mosquitoes, entirely through sound effects and acting.

This bit of advice is harder to follow the smaller your town is. Life in the middle of Seoul is about as similar to life in the rural country village as my students are to actual humans. Which is to say, not at all. But hey, this country is tiny. Do some traveling! Explore your (albeit) tiny town! Take up a hobby. Join a gym and get super buff (then teach me your secrets). 

Mr. and Mrs. Brightside

Lastly, and this is advice for pretty much everyone in any type of situation, try to find the positive part of what's happening to you. Bad thing will happen. Annoying things will happen. That's to be expected. Taxi drivers will try to cheat you on your fare. Classes will be changed and cancelled with no notice. Your coworkers will be passive-aggressive. Your students will make you cry. That's normal, and it sucks.

But the way I see it, focusing ONLY on the things that suck just makes them seem bigger. I really like the way Simon, from the Eat Your Kimchi folks, puts it in a blog post about staying positive: 

"I could be upset about dealing with our landlord, buuuut I have a soft kitty here[...]I could be upset that a project I had been planning fell through, but look at that sunset. Once you realize that all things are of equal significance[...]then the playing field is levelled. Good experiences and bad experiences have the same weight, so why not put my energies into experiencing the positives?"

I've always hated the saying "it takes more muscles to frown than to smile" because a lot of time, it's utter BS. Sometimes it's hard to smile. Sometimes pipes burst or cars break down or things just Go Wrong for seemingly No Reason. There's nothing you can do about that. It already happened. The best thing to do is to find the part of your day that didn't suck. Was there one funny thing a student said? Did you eat the most delicious strawberry ever? Did your mom send a photo of her new poodle? Focus on that. It takes practice, but trust me, it works out better in the long run.

I think this kind of thinking is especially important when you're living in South Korea, and probably any foreign country. Sorry Korea, but you're pretty...racist? I hate to pull out the R card, so maybe we can stick to xenophobic? Unaware that there are other types of people out there and that's okay? Whatever you want to call it, it's hard to be the one different person in a sea of similarity. I never realized how diverse the US was until I moved to Korea. As an American over here, as any type of foreigner I'm sure, it's easy to feel victimized or singled out. Any negative experience can be viewed through the lens of "it happened to be because I'm not Korean."

Sometimes, that's true. Other times, it's not. All I ask is that you take a second to consider if the taxi driver didn't stop for you because he hates Americans, or if maybe he just didn't see you. And even if its the former, will knowing that somehow make you happier? Personally, I know it won't. Even if I have to lie to myself once in a while, I'd rather assume the best in order to feel better, instead of assuming the worst and getting bitter.

So go out and enjoy life. Experience things, and when you miss friends and family back home, go do something interesting so you'll have the best stories to tell them when you meet again. Why do you think I've had so many adventures?