Recently, I had to say goodbye to a good friend.

Jungeun came here last January from Korea to study English. I had signed up to be a Conversation Partner for a student in the program, and Jungeun and I were paired together. I'll never forget how excited she was to be making her first American friend. Needless to say, I was very happy that I had been given the opportunity to be that friend.

Becoming a conversation partner has been one of the most rewarding opportunities I have ever been given. It is truly amazing to see the excitement and desire many of the foreign students have to meet people and experience American culture. Although it may be intimidating, especially for someone who isn't comfortable with the language, this type of arrangement makes it easy to initiate the friendship. And while its purpose is to help the student learn English, the experience is beneficial in many more ways. Understanding people and building personal relationships is such a vital part of our lives, and this provides a way to do so for two people that have lived completely different lives. The things one learns are really innumerable, and truly, you begin to see that there is an understanding and a communication between human beings that transcends words.

That being said, I will truly miss my friend. She is now living in Minnesota, where her cousin also lives, and will continue to study English at a college there. Going into this, one knows that eventually there must be a goodbye, after which it is not known when you will see one another again. Even so, the experience of making such a good friend is definitely worth it, and surely something I will do again.

Jungeun and I

My awesome farewell present

Last weekend, I made a voyage to the land of my youth. The journey there started off with an amazingly sweet 45-minute traffic jam. Fortunately, I had already consumed a RedBull and a Doubleshot so I was thoroughly wired and displaying various signs of insanity, signing along to the tunes of a recently discovered phenomenal band: The Snake The Cross The Crown.

The madness and general joviality persisted until about the time I arrived in the city of Pittsburgh. I turned off the interstate on the North Shore, as I was planning to meet some friends at a Pirates game at PNC Park. However, I desperately needed to access a bathroom and an ATM machine. I entered a Seven Eleven. No bathroom. Busted ATM.

No big deal. The cashier tells me the McDonald's next door has a bathroom. Their sign also indicates the presence of an ATM. I enter, do my duty in the restroom, and proceed to the ATM. There is a sign posted on it: Out of Order. At this point, I became slightly frustrated and as I began to wonder what was with this city and busted ATM machines, I recalled that the sign on Seven Eleven's ATM had incorrect grammar. Something along the lines of 'ATM is broke'. Although it had not bothered me previously, I was now enraged by it.

I proceeded to drive around looking for an ATM for about thirty minutes. Finally I found one on the corner, but there was nowhere to park. I tried pulling a U-turn in the middle of the road, and I did, but there was not sufficient room for me to sneak into a parking spot on the side, so I had to hurriedly whip it into a fire lane, run over to the ATM, run back, and drive off before anyone noticed anything. I don't think anyone saw it because I am lightning fast.

The Pirate game was enjoyable, although they blew it when they had bases juiced in the bottom of the ninth with one out. Some guy came up and I yelled at him: "If you hit into a double play, I am going to destroy you." He struck out. Then Freddy Sanchez comes up. Strikes out on three pitches. Nice job, fellows.

Saturday and Sunday brought some good times. I spent both days working with my dad installing a fence for a guy we know. We did one for him about six or seven years ago, but he is back together with his wife now and they just bought a new house, so they went back to my dad for another fence. He and his wife are two of the nicest and most generous people I've ever met. They gave us keys to the house and unlimited access to any and all refrigerators and their contents. We didn't take much but I did destroy this white tea they had because it was so good.

Most of my work was of the 'grunt' variety: digging post holes, mixing cement, driving in wood screws, tearing old fence posts out of the ground, and my personal favorite: bashing things with a sledgehammer. At one point, my dad and I were trying to pry a fence post out of the ground, and the neighbor comes over and takes my digging bar and just starts going to town on it. I had been doing the same thing, but I suppose he thought I was incompetent because I am just a young whippersnapper.

In reflection on the work I did with my old man, I now realize how much I enjoy doing that sort of thing. Partly because I was helping my dad, who really appreciated it, and partly because there is something satisfying about getting out in the sun and doing some work by the sweat of your brow. I don't get the chance to do it much these days, as I am away at school, and I really wish I could tear into that stuff more often.

It was good spending some time with my dad ripping things out of the earth together. We had some good chats, too. At one point I started singing "Peceful, Easy Feeling" by the Eagles. In response he said, "That song reminds me of you, Ken. And women." I have no idea what in blazes he meant by that.

That being said, if anyone needs anything smashed with a sledgehammer, give me a call.

Today I was reading some film reviews on facebook, when I came across this masterpiece:

"So Rocky 5 a head as soft as a grapefruit and still wins the fight in the end and the best part of the movie is Adrian finally got hot Rocky 1 she looked like a poodle"

Hope you enjoyed that.

Here's the story. When Greg came to work here, they moved me into the lab so that we could work next to one another. On my other side sat an Indian lady whose name I never learned. One day, about a month ago, she just didn't come in to work. The next day, still absent. After about a week, Greg and I began to speculate that she may have been fired. However, she left some things behind: a sweater, a seat cushion, a coffee mug, and, most importantly, a banana from lunch.

After about two weeks, she was still a no show. Greg and I peeked around the corner, and saw the banana. It was in bad shape. Most of the yellow had gone brown and it had begun to shrivel. We took a picture.

After about one month, she still had not returned. At this point the banana was unrecognizable. It was completely black, the peel was like rubber, and a giant spot of mold had formed. I picked it up and it felt like nothing else I have ever touched before. Some kid came in and saw it saying, "Man, someone hasn't been here in awhile." Today, I took a picture of Greg pretending to eat the disgusting, shriveled, black, rubbery piece of nastiness once referred to as a banana.

Several hours later, a guy known only as L.B. comes in looking for the Indian lady who no one had seen in a month. Then, he saw it. He made some crude, colorful remarks and then proceeded to pick the banana up with a napkin and walk it over to the trash. Greg and I were in shock. As soon as LB was out of sight, Greg discretely walked over to the trash can and plucked the banana from its grave, and returned it to its rightful place on the workbench.

I look down at my computer screen. A message from Greg.

"It's a part of our workstation."

I smiled. Long live the banana.

The end.