I wonder if you would still be here if I had paused my life and put all my energy into helping you get back on your feet. Confused about my own life’s purpose, I didn’t dare to imagine a life without you. I thought you would return to being the father I knew, just as you had after the first big surgery. You were in pain for several years, and all I had to do was invest a few months to be your personal cook, trainer, and most importantly, your companion.

When I walk alone, I think about the trips we never took. I ask myself: what if I had convinced you to refuse the surgery that left you in unimaginable pain for those last three months? What if we had both prayed and accepted your impending death? After dwelling on the what-ifs, I imagine taking you to a quiet forest filled with cypresses. We both lie down on a wooden deck and watch the sky filled with greens and blues. We hear the birds and the wind moving in their own directions. I hold your hand and ask about your past struggles. What made you cry? What made you laugh? What made you keep going? I hold my breath and wait until you tell me every detail of your memories. I say there are so many things that I didn’t know about you. I ask why you’re suddenly opening up your feelings. You say it’s because you’re finally at ease.

I messaged your sisters and brother yesterday. I told them it’s been four years already. They all live different lives, but the fact that they have gone through or are currently facing depression binds them together. Depression runs in our family blood. It only took a few messages to feel the pain they are going through.

Your oldest sister called me last night. She said she has been extremely busy lately. Living alone in a new city, she does swimming and yoga three times a week while going to church almost every day. She told me she went through major depression some years ago. She had to work out and pray to save herself from it. She never forgets to ask if I believe in any religion. I said no again this time, although I have been considering going to a Catholic church with my wife and daughter. Your sister would have been relieved to hear about my willingness to trust in God. I’m sure you would have loved seeing us go to church. You told me to trust in God whenever you had the chance, but I never knew which one you were talking about since you seemed to pray to multiple deities whenever you could. I felt you were more of a spiritual person than a religious person.

I know why I’m writing this letter to you. I knew I would have to be honest about my feelings if I were writing to you. I know you are still my biggest inspiration to continue writing. I even thought about writing your autobiography. I don’t think I will do that, but I want to talk to your brother and sisters to learn more about you.

When I see my daughter smiling, I think about how you laughed loudly without caring if others would stare at you funny. I imagine you holding her. You would have loved spotting my face, our face, in hers. You would have loved her name, Koyo, and commended me on how I came up with such a perfect name. You would have said you were one hundred percent sure Koyo had a bright future ahead of her. You would have said there was nothing to be worried about. You would have held my hand tight with your thick hand and told me I was doing a good job prioritizing the care of our daughter. You would have said, “Hallelujah.”

Your oldest sister told me you were in heaven. Are you? You told me a million times that you were never a rich man, but you helped thousands of people without any expectation of being paid back. I admired that about you. You paid twice as much whenever you thought the seller was genuinely interested in crafting the best experience for you. You easily trusted taxi drivers, baristas, pastors, monks, barbers, and all kinds of small business owners. I almost never pay more than what they ask for. You never hesitated to pay more when you felt energized by the seller’s passion. It’s so hard to find people like you nowadays.

At my age, you were already a professor. I’m nothing but a content creator. You possessed the ambition to change the world even a month before your death. You spoiled me with unconditional love for almost thirty years. Maybe that’s why I think the pursuit of money and status is not my game. I don’t feel jealous of people driving nicer cars or wearing fancier watches. I don’t feel compelled to compete with others because I have been loved my entire life.

You said you were not lying when you said I look like a movie star. You said my humor is unmatched. You asked how I came up with all the clever jokes. “My son has wits. He is a better version of me,” you said. I never truly appreciated your love for me. I never repaid you at the same level because you never asked me to return your investment. Once, I bought an Adidas tracksuit with my first paycheck and you wore it every day. You had better clothes, and the tracksuit probably didn’t match your style. Yet you were still happy, after all those years of pouring love into my soul.

I see my daughter and realize you would want me to love her as you loved me. That is what I intend to do for the rest of my life. To take those trips with her. To spend the time that we never had. To ask the questions that we never asked. You prepared me unknowingly to be a better father. I only realized this after you were gone. You are my inspiration.

Despite my grudge against consumerism, I’m a sucker for products that promise a “distraction-free” lifestyle. Whenever an app claims it’ll help me laser-focus on a single task, I jump on the bandwagon and enter my card number. I sometimes even search for “distraction-free” in the App Store just to see if there’s anything new that fits my taste. I hunt for that phrase like a dog chasing a squirrel.

Over the years, I’ve bought or tried numerous apps, including iA Writer, Ulysses, Paper, Cold Turkey Writer, Simpletext, Typora, Bike, MarkEdit, FocusFlight, Endel, MyNoise, and BrainFM. I’ve even coveted devices like the MicroJournal, BYOK, Xteink, FreeWrite, and Pomera. At one point, I had more than ten writing apps on my Mac. I was a hoarder. I felt sick because I knew none of these apps could cure my lethargy or grant me the sense of purpose I was searching for.

Whenever I see stacks of unopened books on my shelves or a long list of blog post ideas in my journal, I get anxious, feeling that I’m not spending enough time on what truly matters. In those moments, I blame Instagram, YouTube, or any website that evaporates my precious time and attention.

I wondered if it’d be possible to live without a computer and the internet. I realized that no matter how hard I try, I can’t get locked in to a single task when using my MacBook or iPhone. If I wish to fill my life with reading and writing, then I don’t actually need all these gadgets. In fact, they’re the distractions I need to get rid of.

Since yesterday, I’ve tucked my MacBook away in a cabinet and transferred my SIM card from my iPhone to a flip phone. I’m writing this post using iA Writer on a ten-year-old iPhone connected to a Bluetooth keyboard. Surprisingly, the phone still works quite well, although the old version of iA Writer crashes whenever I try to open a new file in landscape mode (a cute bug).

Did I achieve a “distraction-free” lifestyle with this setup? Maybe one step closer. In the last two days, I’ve written more than I did in the hundred days since my daughter was born. Was this kind of obsession necessary, or even healthy? Absolutely not. I’m just happy that I didn’t buy another app or gadget to fix my lack of focus, and instead, simply built my own writer’s deck.

I felt numb for the past three days. Depression hugged me tight and pressed me flat against the ground.

It is embarrassing to examine and explain why I fell into the sticky trap of an emotional downfall. I can only say that this spiral of gloominess encroached upon me once I became entangled in a petty argument with my wife.

In the afternoon, as I carried the baby from her bed to the living room, my wife stared at me and murmured, “The baby still looks tired.” I had spent at least twenty minutes helping her fall asleep, and I was convinced the baby needed more playtime before going to bed again. “She must be tired, though,” my wife said again. I noticed a surge of anger brewing within me. Looking down at the baby in my arms, I replied, “Nope,” and laid her down in our bright living room.

After I let the baby tumble for ten minutes on her play mat, I carried her to our sunlight-screened, pitch-dark bedroom. I wasn’t sure if the baby would close her eyes this time. I only wished to avoid hearing another comment on the baby’s ideal sleep schedule. I held the baby and tried everything to soothe her. I made a “shhh” sound and tapped her back gently while roaming around the tiny room. The baby continued crying. After several minutes, my wife appeared in the darkness and said, “Let me take care of her.” “I’ve got this,” I replied while glaring at the crying baby. Noticing the anger in my voice, my wife stomped out of the room.

I placed the baby in her bed and followed my wife to the living room. “I didn’t mean you were doing a bad job,” my wife said. I didn’t respond. I couldn’t come up with an appropriate answer. I couldn’t think clearly once my mind was muddled with inexorable emotions. I went back to the bedroom to finish my task, and the baby finally fell asleep. I stepped out of the darkness into the kitchen where my wife was doing dishes. I asked her to sit next to me so that I could apologize for being so irritable earlier. I explained how I felt as if she were watching me just to judge how well I take care of our daughter. I couldn’t really put words to my childish emotions. I sounded like someone who is only good at pointing out the injustices of the world. “I don’t really have anything to say,” my wife said. She stood up and walked back to the kitchen. I stayed in the chair for a few more minutes. I didn’t know what to say either.

For three days, I barely interacted with my wife. The argument was not particularly serious, yet I was drowning in self-pity and numerous what-ifs. On the first day, I approached my wife a couple more times to see if she would forgive me, but it was too difficult for her to understand why I had suddenly turned into this impenetrable wall of sadness. I lay on the floor and started doomscrolling as if my time were not worth a penny. I wondered if anyone would miss me when I was gone from this world. I pictured going to a rooftop and throwing myself to the ground. I asked myself why so many celebrities chose to end their lives at such a young age. I then realized I would never be bold enough to end my life on my own.

On day two, I went to a coffee shop and read Ann Patchett’s essay, “My Three Fathers." I stared out the window after reading a few paragraphs. People were holding umbrellas to block the scorching sunlight. Despite my stern face, I was clearly appreciating the coffee, the essay, and the music. I was getting tired of being sad and angry for no reason.

In 2014, when I was twenty-one, I went to Tokyo with my mother and sister. We spent four days in the city. I was very excited because it was my first time traveling in Japan. I booked an Airbnb and bookmarked some cool restaurants and coffee shops. I had no problems on the first day, but I started feeling sad on the second. All of a sudden, I turned into a lifeless sack of anger. I needed to spend time alone, so I told my mother I wanted to go out at night. I went to a fancy coffee bar in Shibuya. Before the trip, a blog post had told me that this bar was one of the most popular among tourists. The blog also mentioned that the barista picked a mug to match the general vibe of the customer. I expected the same to happen for me, although he didn’t seem to take much time to get to know what kind of person I was. I watched the barista pouring steaming water as if he were watering the most precious plant. Dressed in a tailored suit, the barista picked a blue-striped cup for my filtered coffee. I smelled the aroma and took out a pack of Marlboros from the table. I had quit smoking for a few years, but I couldn’t resist buying a pack because the blog mentioned it was legal to smoke indoors in Japan. The place was a perfect haven for someone like me who preferred coffee over alcohol. The barista noticed the smoke and handed me a glass ashtray. It was my first time smoking in a bar. I looked at an enormous vase filled with blue flowers on a thick wooden table. I wasn’t the only one watching the vase. The lighting made the flowers stand out like an actor on a stage.

The place was filled with others like me who seemed to want some me-time in this hectic city. I glanced at a lady next to me. She looked five to ten years older than I did and appeared to be Korean. “Are you traveling?” I asked in Korean. “Oh, you’re Korean,” she replied. “Do you want one?” I offered her a cigarette, but she said she didn’t smoke. We talked about what we were doing in Tokyo. I said I was on a family trip, and she said she was traveling by herself because she liked coming to Japan every year. I asked her if she would be free for coffee the next morning. She said yes and gave me her number. She seemed like a good listener. I was a lonely person who desperately needed someone to understand my feelings.

The next morning, we went to a coffee shop known for its elaborate latte art. We both remained almost silent and drank our coffee awkwardly. She left after finishing her latte, and I didn’t ask her to stay. I went back to the Airbnb where my mother and sister were preparing to go out for brunch. I felt much better and joined them for the rest of the day. I cannot remember if I apologized for ruining the family trip. I probably couldn’t say anything since I had a hard time articulate what was happening to me.

The cycle repeats. I become dejected, my family gets hurt, and things return to normal in a few days. I always try to find an answer to prevent another breakdown. I cannot even be sure if it’s appropriate to call my feelings depression. At this point in my life, my sadness feels more like a form of narcissism that emerges when I become too vulnerable to my own weaknesses.

Right now, my wife and I are both committed to taking care of our baby. We shouldn’t be that overwhelmed. We even have magical gadgets, like a diaper changing station and a steam sterilizer. We’re not hunting boars and picking berries for lunch. We order food and groceries on our phones. I can stay inside all day because everything gets delivered to the front door in a couple of days (sometimes as fast as twenty minutes).

Babies are biologically engineered to be helplessly dependent. I can only imagine how our ancestors raised their children. Babies wake up every hour or two, crying for help. When a mother tries to nurture her baby, the little one falls asleep while feeding as if she doesn’t need to eat. Hunger makes them wail, and eating makes them drowsy. What?

Most babies spit up thirty times a day, and our daughter is no exception. We hold her upright for at least 20 minutes after each feeding. She has to burp to stop spitting, but she can’t really burp without help. She can’t fall asleep by herself either because of the Moro reflex. The baby has to be swaddled to feel as safe as she did inside her mother’s womb. She doesn’t even know how to use enough strength to poop. She strains hundreds of times a day until her face turns explosively red. She writhes in pain because she doesn’t know how to manage her bowel movements. She kicks and flails her arms and legs while sleeping, only to throw up again.

She sleeps like an angel but suddenly bursts into crying. She was fed automatically inside the womb. For her in the cruel world, hunger must feel like a matter of life and death. Her head is too heavy. She can’t even support her neck. Her fragile body can’t risk falling out of her father’s arms, but she throws her arms and legs around like she could land like a gymnast.

What if I were left in a wild jungle with my baby? She’s skilled at sucking and crying. There’s no use for that. I would need a lot of help from a dedicated group of adults to safeguard my daughter. Maybe that’s why humans had to team up and build communities. Parents have always needed trustworthy babysitters.

Raising a baby is possibly the most arduous yet primitive job in modern society. No matter how much money or attention you pour in, babies grows at the same speed they did over thousands of years. All parents would agree: surviving as a baby is a miracle. We were all once babies, which means you’ve already made it. Grown-ups should celebrate that more often.

When I got the photo, I talked about meeting these K-pop stars or Hollywood actors as if they were my real friends. A hollow satisfaction came after bragging that I was associated with these famous people. I made fun of those who believed in cults, but I definitely sounded like one of them when I talked in detail about the glorious moment the celebrity would never remember.

I stopped worshipping celebrities. I don’t pay attention to what they say, wear, or advertise. I don’t read news about how they paid millions in cash to buy a fancy building in Seoul. I stay oblivious if they’re in relationships. I don’t care if they’re addicted to drugs or gambling. They’re not my friends. They don’t know me. They are only human. It’s impossible for a person to maintain real connections with millions, let alone thousands, of other people.

Celebrities are bound to disappoint their fans because they can’t meet all the expectations falsely imagined by the crowd. They get paid because of their royal status as the representatives of society. However, these stars are not saints who stay poor while devoting their lives to helping others in need. The biggest celebrities fly private jets while peddling tickets and T-shirts.

I appreciate the craftsmanship and artistry of many of these famous people. On the other hand, I don’t respect corporate-manufactured idols or ad-spitting influencers on social media. Fame and wealth are the perfect kindling for evil. Famous people are in perfect condition to be assholes to “commoners.” I’d rather look up to those who stay quiet about what they’ve done to take care of the people around them. The real heroes are not on TVs.

“Let go” is such a cliché, but this kind of character development works for me. Even when there isn’t enough explanation for why the character suddenly experiences a caterpillar-to-butterfly moment, I simply accept the transition because I understand that growth means letting go of one’s expectations, fear, and ego.

Humans suffer. Even those born with an inhumane amount of material wealth struggle for more attention, fame, and stimulation. I suffer when I can’t “let go” and embrace silence and boredom. I suffer when I can’t “let go” of all my wishes for the future. I suffer when I can’t “let go” of past mistakes.

A few months ago, I had to say goodbye to a nun I had met at a hospice facility. I had volunteered at the hospice for two years, and the nun had been the head of the facility for about three years. When she told me she was leaving, she said she had decided to enter a monastery and spend the rest of her life there. She said the monastery wouldn’t let her contact anyone outside. She was about to take the off-ramp for an endless path. Her life would be devoted to prayers for God.

I teared up and realized I’d never had this kind of experience: saying a final goodbye to a person who’s alive and well. “I’ve been such a punk, moving around the country too much,” she told me. I looked at her face and realized she was letting go of all the connections she had made with this world. Once, she told me she became a nun at a young age to “study and find the truth.” She even told us there are many things wrong about Christianity, and she had learned so much from Buddhist monks. I always liked how she seemed free from all the orthodox teachings of the religion.

I still feel a void when I think of our relationship. I won’t be able to see her forever. I won’t even know when she passes away. It’s difficult to let go of our connection, while she is praying for everyone, including me.

Letting go isn’t a passive act of giving up on the many temptations in our lives. You have to be ruthless enough to let go and focus only on what matters. It takes just a minute to close my eyes and breathe. I’d like to shrink my awareness down to the size of a small bowl. It’s okay to lose. It’s okay to fall. It’s okay to be unknown. This is the way. This is the way.

This pattern has persisted for at least twenty years, ever since I started watching how elections unfold across the country. Candidates attract zealots the way K-pop idols do, while politics has turned into a religious battle. In “blue” areas, whoever becomes the liberal party’s candidate basically determines the winner. In “red” areas, the same thing happens because the vast majority of voters go to the booth and stamp the ballot for the party they feel affiliated with.

This election might be slightly different because the conservative party is so unpopular in Korea right now. But most voters who have given up on the conservative party won’t even consider voting for a third party. For them, the election is simply a game between 1 and 2.

For more than 10 years, I’ve voted for either number 1 or 2. I knew the faces of the major candidates and wanted to play the winning game so I wouldn’t waste my vote. Now I feel like my vote doesn’t really matter for the future of this country. I’ll still vote, but as long as elections remain a popularity contest in this materialistic, hierarchical society, there’s no doubt that only a power-hungry, sadistic person, most likely some old man, will stand out as the alpha candidate.

I want to vote for someone who doesn’t belong to this insider game. I want to get to know who’s running besides the two men the media will show nonstop. I want to vote for someone who refuses to bow before the royal authority of bureaucratic politicians. I want to support someone who doesn’t parrot phrases like “economic growth” and “AI-first.” If there’s no such option, I’d rather go to the booth and cast an empty ballot.

It feels like we’re waiting for a mysterious guest. We don’t know exactly when she’ll come. We can’t really imagine what it will be like to live with a baby who needs constant attention and care. I think about the moment I’ll see her face for the first time. We’ve prepared everything we could think of. I still can’t believe this is happening.

Every day, I scour the App Store and GitHub for another “clean interface” app, hoping it will reengineer my brain to focus on one task at a time. When I open a so-called “distraction-free” writing app, I demand zero lag and a screen stripped bare of everything except text. Once I open the app, I immediately click the settings and disable all the frills: word counts, spell-check, toolbars. I choose apps that embody the person I want to become.

I blame ad-laden, algorithm-driven apps for my inability to focus on what matters. It’s a relief to say it’s not my fault. I even tell myself resisting infinite scroll on slot-machine apps is beyond human capability. “These apps are weapon-grade addictive,” I warn my friends about social media. I say this as if I have any control over my own urge to stay current, yet I check these sites the moment I open my eyes each morning.

Does the world need more distraction-free apps? Is there any other way to keep me from drowning in this sea of distractions? I keep reaching for more tech to solve a tech problem, waiting for updates as if I were a robot.

Reading this news makes me feel like my life doesn’t really matter. I feel lost when I realize I’m not part of any movement that will be recorded in textbooks. I’m not developing AI. I’m not at diplomatic discussions between nations. I’m not invited to the White House or the Blue House. Whatever I do today, the world continues to churn out doomsday news for another day.

Look around. People at cafés don’t talk about their lives anymore. They talk about what’s happening in the world: the BTS concert, the war in the Middle East, the stock market, the price of gold and bitcoin. We all seem to acknowledge we are so hollow that we can’t escape this soul-crushing meaning crisis.

Knowing has rotted my soul. I must start unknowing to regain my purpose and get the most out of this life. It’s an ambitious challenge to stay oblivious to all the news and happenings around the world. I’m addicted to these compulsive feelings I get after learning how the world is corrupt beyond repair. It’s impossible not to feel a shred of casino-anxiety after spending hours on CNN and Instagram.

It’s unnatural for a human to be as powerful as a tech billionaire, president, or cult leader. I have nothing in common with them yet I’m still dominated by these old guard faces. I don’t want to serve them. I want to stand for myself and take care of the people around me. It’s that simple. That’s my meaning of life.

I thought fiction writing meant spilling unchained creativity onto paper. I was that naive. When a writer friend and I started a project to write a short story every other week, I assumed everything would go smoothly. “I don’t have a hard time writing. Two weeks is definitely enough time for me,” I said.

I was wrong. I couldn’t come up with a solid story. I procrastinated until the deadline, then scrambled to write and edit. I couldn’t structure a compelling narrative. I had no bird’s-eye view to objectively assess my work. My sentences contained raw emotions, but they wouldn’t cohere into a concrete story. Even as a first draft, my work was underwhelming.

I lack storytelling skills, and worse, I don’t have the will to build a story. The deeper I get into fiction, the less purpose I see in investing hundreds of hours to perfect one. I forget the plot as stories lengthen. Worldbuilding requires commitment, like hand-building a house, but I wanted a quick fix for my creative urge, like posting on a blog.

It’s time to admit it: I’m terrible at writing fiction. Or more accurately, I’m not in love with it. I’m still passionate about writing. I just get way more energetic publishing short bursts online.

This poor dad thinks differently. He even relishes being called a poor dad. That’s strange. He makes half of minimum wage. He’s terrible at building a fortune. He’s not just a poor dad. He’s a really poor dad.

Some might say being poor is an abominable sin for someone expecting a baby in two months. This poor dad must disagree because he’s about to become a full-time father, saving tons on extravagant spending. He earns less, but he saves more.

This poor dad doesn’t buy things to feel happy. He buys only what’s absolutely necessary. He wears the same sweatshirt he wore in college. He’s subscribed to the cheapest 1G data plan for his flip phone. Most of his clothes came from his late father. He wears socks and boxers until they rip to pieces. His wife cuts his hair. He bakes sourdough Rugbrød for breakfast. He puts art, friendship, and family at the epicenter of his life. This poor dad has an acute sense of what matters.

This poor dad says most people are brainwashed into believing material wealth is life’s ultimate goal. He refuses to let his child become another cog in the capitalist machine. He says consumerism poisons our souls. His life’s purpose is to make sure his child never says her dream is to become a doctor or lawyer just to make a lot of money.

Instead of buying, this poor dad will create to meet his child’s needs. Games will be invented. Toys will be carved. Clothes will be woven. Pizzas will be baked. This poor dad treats his child’s desire as the most sacred inspiration.

This poor dad treats parenthood as a chance to become a spiritual teacher, a karate sensei, a Michelin-starred chef. He commits to learning everything required to raise a child into an independent, self-sufficient human.

This poor dad doesn’t care what others think about his tiny house, beat-up car, or meager wages. This poor dad invests time in his child. He doesn’t hire others to be the child’s guardians. This poor dad looks forward to playing, cooking, learning, hiking, swimming, drawing, writing, carving, programming, reading, laughing, and joking with his child.

This poor dad is really exited to become a father soon.

So far, I’ve learned that taking care of a baby is no joke. Diaper changing, bathing, breastfeeding, playing, sleeping, massaging (both the baby and mother). I’ve had so many questions. How do I clean my baby’s umbilical cord? What should I do when my baby cries? What kind of food should my wife eat after giving birth? Where does my baby sleep? What kind of chair is best for breastfeeding? What kind of towels are best for babies? Should I buy special detergent for the baby? Is there a way to communicate with babies? There’s a load of information I have to keep track of.

I’m still not sure how my life will change after our daughter is born. Even the 3-D ultrasound images of my daughter, made possible by alien-level technology, fail to convince me that I’m now responsible for a new human being in this universe. People say having a kid is one of the few chances to be truly selfless. Maybe I’ll finally be free from my egocentric mindset and realize it’s possible to lead a life of love.

One day my daughter will read this post. How amazing is that? I see you, Goyo. I welcome you to this world.

I stayed at my sister’s tiny studio. The building was run by a real estate startup desperate to become the next WeWork(before that bubble burst). Inside the elevators, there were announcements about yoga classes and rooftop parties. Half the residents seemed like rich American college kids studying abroad for a semester.

After spending the night at the hospital, I went back to my sister’s place to clean up and rest. As I approached the building, I noticed dozens of colorful posters on the wall. I figured the apartment management had put out some ad, but I couldn’t just walk past its message. Every poster carried the same words in the center: “Pray for Ukraine.”

My immediate thought was, “I bet these people don’t give a shit about the people in Ukraine.” Displaying these posters felt like a sick marketing stunt, a way for the brand to signal that it was doing something for those suffering in the war zone.

Whenever a war, tragedy, or disaster strikes, people print and post “pray for” messages on posters and social media. I get it. I feel helpless when I realize, once again, that the world is a fucked up place. I get angry because a handful of corrupt harabeojis, never held responsible for their crimes against humanity, set the world on fire just to protect their power.

Praying and voting. Too many people, myself included, are stuck with these two notoriously ineffective options for fighting injustice. I want to know if there’s another way. Protesting might be an option, but I’ve never personally seen a protest create meaningful change.

1. Balloonerism - Mac Miller
2. My Favorite Things - John Coltrane
3. Shades of Blue: Madlib Invades Blue Note - Madlib
4. 1999 - Joey Bada$$
5. Minari - Emile Mosseri
6. The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We - Mitski
7. Bo Jackson - Boldy James & The Alchemist
8. Bread - The Alchemist
9. No Idols - Domo Genesis & The Alchemist
10. The Dark Side of the Moon - Pink Floyd
11. Baby - Dijon
12. Some Rap Songs - Earl Sweatshirt
13. Now - Kim Jung Mi
14. VILLAGE BIG BAND - Coby Petricone-Berg
15. Let’s Get It On - Marvin Gaye
16. Son of Spergy - Daniel Caesar
17. pumping of heart is torturing - huijun woo
18. Kaleidoscope - Moher

• Bungee Space
• Desert Island
• Casa Magazine
• Left Bank Books
• Printed Matter
• Argosy Book Store
• Aeon Bookstore
• Three Lives & Company

Here are some thoughts.

• Everything in the US has become out-of-this-world expensive. If I weren’t visiting friends and family, traveling in the US would have been the worst nightmare. My wife and I spent a month in the US four years ago, and things weren’t that bad. Now, compared to Korea, a cup of coffee costs twice as much and a bowl of pho costs three times more(including tips). Rapid inflation plus the KRW’s forever-sinking value against the USD made paying $4 for a slice of pizza a luxury. We could save tons of money because our friends and family gave us rides, paid for many meals, and provided housing. Even with this much help, when we were by ourselves, we couldn’t help but avoid eating at restaurants. It was clear: ₩ earners could not afford to live in a $ country.
• The entire NYC smelled like weed. I’ve visited NYC six or seven times over the past fifteen years, so I know the city almost always stinks like a nasty restroom. But too many people now walk around with a joint in their mouths. From Chelsea to Chinatown, it was impossible to escape the smoke. How does a New Yorker(not mega-rich) raise a child?
• Every tourist who visits Times Square for the first time realizes that the city is unlike anything they hoped it would be. The flashy billboards are just dumb ads, and scammers block your way to steal your cash in front of the NYPD. There’s no public bathroom anywhere because… of drug dealers? After handing over $5 for an Americano, the tourist finally gets to sit on a toilet in the Big Apple.
• Lots of non-Americans still dream of visiting or living in the US. It’s very difficult to see through the American fantasy Hollywood has groomed for decades. I myself struggle to let go of the possibility that one day I will be able to move back to the US to pursue my dream(whatever that is). It’s a silly idea because for me living in Korea is and will always be much more comfortable both financially and culturally. When Koreans in the US visit their motherland, their first stop is always a hospital. It doesn’t matter how old these people are. Seeing a dentist in Korea is at least 10X cheaper, even if you have company-sponsored insurance in the US.
• So what is the American dream? It’s the mimetic desire to climb the world’s biggest ladder. Most of us are trying to be one step closer to God. God in this context is most likely money, fame, or authority. And what kind of people have an untouchable amount of money, fame, and power? The answer is… yes! Americans. Every year, thousands of young Koreans walk the Camino for spiritual enlightenment, thinking the harsh(and supposedly holy) environment will open their eyes to a better future. It’s the same logic. People gravitate towards the ultra-capitalist militaristic empire because they want vaults filled with dollars and gold. It’s a win-big mentality. They want to play in the league where the World Series happens. Do you know what the best pitcher award is called in the Japanese Baseball League? Me neither. Winning second-best doesn’t mean anything when there’re people looking down on you.

I thought maybe this was some kind of elaborate psych experiment. There could be hidden cameras all around the house. My computer could have been hacked already, and renown so-called researchers at some institution could be monitoring my moves to analyze how my actions were demonstrative of human nature shaped by evolution. A bummer, but a plausible scenario. Dad would have signed an agreement to green-light this crass experiment for a couple of bottles of soju.

It was best to assume I was being watched like giant pandas in a zoo. The website was very likely a hoax or a prank. Why trust this sicko named Z? What does “hacking into any computer” even mean? How can I be sure I’m not in some kind of nasty trap? What if this tool doesn’t let me be completely anonymous? What does Z want from me?

I walked back to my desk and set my fingers on the keyboard. My first target was a celebrity who was world-wide famous and really far away from where I was. I could think of a few “safe” names and eventually looked up “Angelina Jolie’s real name and birthday” on DuckDuckGo. After turning the VPN on, I typed “Angelina Jolie Voight, 19750604” into the search box and hit the button next to it.

She owned 18 devices, including three iPhones, four MacBooks, and three iPads. The real-time dashboard showed how long she used these devices every day. I could even see which services she accessed on each device. Without thinking much, I clicked “iPhone 1” at the top because it was in green text. She was currently using the phone.

A new window popped up, streaming a real-time view of her phone. I watched, like in a theater, as Jolie wrote an email to her friend Joan. I almost moved my cursor to the Photos app, but was afraid that would incriminate me later. I felt that at any moment she could sense a stranger watching over her shoulder. Before crossing the line, I had to experiment further to learn what this tool was capable of and what I had to avoid at all costs.

I deleted the name and birthday from the search, and the page got wiped clean. I was already drenched in sweat, convinced that the website was real. I still had to double-check that I was undetectable while spying on other devices. A month was a long time, especially for people like me. Z knew I would make the most of this opportunity. There was no doubt about that.

The message had a short URL at the end. Normally I would never be fooled by scammy links, but this time my curiosity completely overshadowed my reason. Clicking this won’t charge me shit, I thought. Staring at the screen, I sprang out of bed and sat on the mattress. It was past midnight, and my mind was being sucked into the limitless possibilities.

Clicking the link led me to a blank page with a sign-in portal. I shrugged and almost closed the window. Then I found a tiny text area in the middle of the page. Whoa, I zoomed in with two thumbs. It said “Your name is your ID and your birthday is your password.”

Why would they bait me like this? These scammers—likely North Korean or Chinese—normally pretended to be police, banks, or mobile carriers. I moved to my desk, closed a bulky prep book, and turned my laptop on. I set the computer on the book and Googled whether there was any precedent for this website and message. I even asked GPT whether it was safe to type my name and birthday into this sketchy Web 1.0-style website.

In the search results, I couldn’t find any trace of the website. I wondered if the hacker made it accessible only through a designated IP address. Although it could never be a good idea to share my name and birthday with a stranger, I couldn’t say no to diving into the pool of uncertainty. My heart was beating so fast that my ears were ringing.

After all, my name and birthday weren’t that difficult to figure out. For years, they had been part of my email address “sinhyo0320@naver.com”. In a way, I wasn’t giving anything up. There was nothing to worry about. Not yet, for sure. I just needed to stop providing any more information after logging in.

I typed random names and birthdays to check if other combinations could bypass the authentication. Three attempts later, the website warned that two more failures would lock me out permanently. I grew more nervous because this meant these people really knew who I was. After taking a deep breath of the dusty air, I typed “Sinhyo Kim” and “19910320” and clicked the log-in button.

A pop-up message appeared.

Welcome, Sinhyo.

No one, not even myself, knows you are logged in. Follow these rules and you will be safe.

1. Do not share this site with anyone.
2. Do not target the people around you.
3. Do not try to figure out who I am.

Your friend,
Z.

I closed the message, then another message appeared.

This website allows you to hack into any computer around the world. You can search other people's texts, photos, and locations by providing the person's government-issued name and birthday. You'll be given access for a month.

This raises a disturbing question: Is this what history has always been?

I’ve attended workshops and watched videos where speakers claim to understand the trajectory of human civilization. They predict increasing violence, religious extremism, and even World War III. Yet these self-proclaimed historians largely regurgitate content from their favorite news sources and YouTubers. They’ve memorized recent events and believe that synthesizing limited data points qualifies as understanding the grand sweep of human experience.

But is memorizing what powerful people did yesterday really the same as understanding history?

History has always been written by those with the largest platforms. Cave paintings, stone carvings, written chronicles, and now follower counts. Unless you were a religious leader, monarch, or military commander, your story rarely made it into the historical record.

Algorithms have accelerated this distortion. They incite political movements and manufacture “historical” moments that serve engagement metrics rather than human understanding. We’re witnessing the creation of “history” in real time, but it’s a history curated by artificial systems designed to maximize outrage and division.

History must mean more than the mere biography of the powerful. I can’t help but admit that I’m Trump-addicted. I know way too much about this man and his ideology. I read and listen to his story almost daily, while I forget to call my mother and chat about what we’ve done today.

I’m afraid that I’ll one day become a victim of the feuds between powerful bureaucrats. I get scared when I think of missiles flying across my town, signaling that my entire life didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of geopolitical progression. At the same time, I feel the urge to resist being compliant and share my honest thoughts and feelings with the world.

While the news celebrates destruction, I want to practice and appreciate the love around us. I want to understand others, even if they are on the other side of my views. Our history’s highlights shouldn’t be wars. We deserve better.

I was deep in the water trying to reach the bottom. I knew there was something precious but didn’t know what it was. I didn’t ask why. I just kicked my legs like a frog as hard as I could. The pressure was building up in my ears. I could feel my eyeballs twitching. Why risk life diving this deep? I needed to get out of the water for fresh air. I looked up and faced the blue ceiling. I could see the sunshine piercing through the water. I released air bubbles through my nose and let gravity pull me upward. I was getting excited to fill my lungs with oxygen. However, when I reached the top, I could not pass through the icy ceiling. The water now felt like a thick layer of bullet-proof glass. I realized there was no way to crush this barrier. I was stuck in the water. I was about to die.

I couldn’t move. I was possessed by this shallow yet vivid dream. I slowly moved my toes to confirm that I was alive. I heard loud chattering noises from outside the windows. I opened my eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. I was on land. I almost drowned on land.

This experience repeated at least once a week for two years. My shrink told me it was stress that was trapping me inside these horrifying nightmares. My girlfriend said my subconscious was trying to send a message from the universe. She wanted me to meditate and resolve this issue with my own mind. I asked, “How exactly am I supposed to do that?” She said, “Close your eyes and pay attention to nothing but your breath.” I was really confident I could do that. Focus on breathing. I’d been doing that for the past two years.

In our living room, I sat on a carpet and posed like a bearded guru at an ancient temple. Within a minute, I was completely stuck in the water again. I never stopped meditating inside the water. I didn’t care about reaching the top. I made no effort to break through the glass ceiling. I was free. Free from all the worries that haunted my daily life.

I finally drowned. This time, I drowned in the water, not on land. I passed out and felt my soul leaving my body. The water vibrated like it was wailing for my death. From the top of the water, I watched my body sinking into the darkness. Everything was too quiet. I closed my eyes, waiting to return to the real world.

I had listened to this speech too many times. When I first found Grace Cho on YouTube, she only had a thousand subscribers. Most of the subscribers were Korean, but she only spoke in English. Her channel didn’t have any clickbait titles or thumbnails. Everything about her videos seemed raw and authentic. Many comments echoed my feelings, saying “I CAN’T BELIEVE THESE LECTURES ARE FREE ON THE INTERNET” and “I WISH I HAD A TEACHER LIKE CHO BACK IN HIGH SCHOOL.”

Inside the frame of a medium shot, she looked and sounded like a young professor of political science or history. Each video lasted for about an hour, and there were no ads in between. She wasn’t selling anything. At the end of the talks, she said “my only goal is to educate you.” Her words made me realize I could be more than a dust particle in this ever-expanding universe.

Two years later, Cho became the first congresswoman in Korea who communicated solely in English. She always provided real-time translations, but the majority of other politicians denounced her effort to sound like “a savior from America.” I often had a hard time understanding her message, but I didn’t really mind her choice of language. I believed she was utilizing English because the Korean language is inherently hierarchical and conservative. Of course she had to use the revolutionary language to upend the system. After all, she had to join the ring full of old Korean men.

Still, too many conspiracy theorists accused her of trying to take over the country as an American spy. What a pity. I followed the news every day and admired Cho’s actions as an elected official. As promised, she refused to hire any assistants with the taxpayers’ money. Other congressmen had five assistants, but she hired one middle-aged assistant with her own money. She didn’t join any political party and created an online dashboard to showcase whatever she was up to that day. “Congresswoman Cho’s schedule is 100% transparent,” the website said.

While other politicians flew first-class and enjoyed the view from the top of administrative buildings, Cho took the subway and lived in a shabby one-bedroom apartment in Nowon-gu. One time she wore a T-shirt that said “death to bureaucracy!” on its back. I teared up while scrolling through the pictures of her wearing the shirt in the congressional building. I was sure the tide was finally shifting to rescue our country from hell.

In the first year, Congresswoman Cho tried to pass several laws including the act to abolish the absurd amount of self-serving privileges given to all the high-ranking politicians and government officials. All around the country, hundreds of thousands of supporters gathered and marched to demand an end to the elitist society ruled by and for the 1%. For about three months, I joined the protest every weekend. I often cried with my head down after shouting “death to bureaucracy!” The energy around me was so intense that it made me dream every night. In these dreams, I floated among the thousands of Cho’s supporters for hours, like ravens circling in my neighborhood.

The law didn’t pass, but Cho was now a primary candidate for the upcoming presidential election. There were so many accusations and rumors about her past. According to the media, her parents were both jailed for beating up a teenager inside a restaurant. Cho acknowledged and apologized for her family’s history of unlawful behavior. She told the press she had cut ties with all her family members. She had millions of fans, but she didn’t seem to have any friends. She was trying her best to remain a lone wolf.

Last month, I had a chance to ask Cho a question. It was before she announced her presidential campaign, and she came to my town to host an event for her young supporters in their 20s and 30s. During the Q&A, I stood up with the mic and took a peek at her glowing eyes. It was time to ask the one question that had always been on my mind. “How can I help you improve our country?” I said in English. She didn’t catch the question at first, but fortunately her translator translated my poor English into proper English. Cho looked at the ceiling for a few seconds, then answered me. “Rebel. Say no to all the authorities who say you can’t do this and you can’t do that. Read books. Never listen to the brainwashing of so-called experts all around the world.”

I went back home that night and searched for the livestream of Cho’s event that day. I downloaded the entire video and clipped the part where I asked the question and Cho answered. The clip was about a minute long. I uploaded the clip onto my YouTube channel with the title “Rebel against the authorities.” Within minutes, a few comments appeared. “HELL YEAH,” one of them said. I refreshed the page and whispered to the screen in front of me, “Hell yeah, my brother.”

Yesterday was a fucking parasite. I got pushed into the realization that I was never meant to be a journalist. The interview was a mud-deep mess. I regurgitate the one last question. I picture the baldest man in the room asking, “What would you do if your superior ordered you to do tasks that you think are unethical?”

What? The question triggered a bug in my system. All I could grasp was my time with Ms. Hwang–my homeroom teacher back in middle school. She was the one who labeled me “the newspaper king.” For twenty years, when someone asked why I wanted to become a journalist, my go-to response was because “my favorite teacher, Hwang, believed in my potential to become a great journalist one day.”

One time, Hwang made us write down our dream jobs. Most kids turned in “Lawyer” or “Doctor,” but I wrote “Journalist!!!”. At the end of the class, Hwang asked me to visit her office after school. Other kids gave me those envious looks because they sensed I somehow handed in the correct answer.

Peeping at graded papers on Hwang’s desk, I said, “Reading news is so much fun. I always talk about the day’s news with my parents.” I ended the chat saying, “One day, I want to publish the greatest newspaper.” I turned around swiftly and stepped out the door. A few steps into the hallway, I could hear Hwang’s voice. “The kid’s a genius. What a newspaper king!”

I felt great all day that I could barely sleep. I had to match myself to the shadows of that title. I woke up with the sheer purpose to fetch and read the papers, faster than anyone in the country. I never stopped reading and eventually began writing articles. Even as a high schooler, I interviewed random local politicians. They loved taking pictures with “the youngest journalist.” I studied journalism in college. In two years, I became the chief editor of my college newspaper.

I’ve been warned by those who had firsthand experience with the big-name newspapers in this country. These people told me things like “You need to leave this country, go to the US or something.” and “You won’t be able to survive as a real journalist.” and “You’re too idealistic. You don’t respect the culture. The hierarchy. The system.”

The newspapers–wrapped in plastic–are now stacked at the front door. I failed to get accepted by any of the major newspapers. Every time I read a rejection letter, I get transported back to hearing Hwang’s voice. I feel like she’s screaming into my brain again and again. “You are a newspaper king, Youngjoon. You are a fucking king!”

I’ve used GPT mainly as a reading companion. The chatbot really is the best dictionary I’ve ever used. I could just feed this genius an entire sentence(a paragraph if I wanted to), and it would break down the sentence into a set of plain language definitions. I could also prompt the bot to refer to the specific text I was reading, and it understood exactly what my question was about. Mind-blowing.

Reading with this GPT guy was a lot of fun. I would argue many humans will soon “read” books as if conversing with a friend who has a PhD. Lots of humans would appreciate a superpower that lets them finish a book in an hour. People like me who hoard stacks of unread books will gladly pay $$$ for the advanced AI models that can scan books and narrate key points and highlights. I’ll be able to say, “Look, I finally read The Origin of Species and Wealth of Nations! In one day!”

So why do I want to downgrade and be a muggle? Because I sensed that the bot was on the way to becoming my essential tool. I knew that if I kept treating the machine as part of my body, I would feel lost and helpless when I didn’t have access to the technology. For now, I didn’t want to be that person.

When I read a book or an article, I have a habit of highlighting words and sentences that require clarifications. After using GPT, I found myself unconsciously saving all kinds of questions not for me but for the bot. I no longer had to think twice and come up with my best shot at solving the mysteries of the text. I was a keyboard away from the answer. I could always ask AI to spew out explanations for all the subtle nuances and historical contexts. Even when I typed in a mumbo jumbo question, the bot instantly rephrased what I was trying to say and asked itself again. Everything was just too easy.

In a few months, GPT has transformed how I read–possibly why I read as well. The AI is and always will be way ahead of me in terms of understanding world history and poetic expressions. Cool, but I no longer want reading to feel like fetching questions for a master. It’s time to experiment if I could go back and stand on my own.

Most of my close friends, the ones I actually meet in person at least once a month, read and speak in Korean. I also publish a podcast and host online workshops, all in Korean. So I get direct feedback when I release something in Korean. I occasionally receive nice emails about my writing in English, but that happens maybe once every two months.

Despite the circumstances, I’ve been pushing myself to write more in English. Why? Because the world has way more English speakers than Korean speakers. Because people say English speakers have the biggest purchasing power. Because English speakers come from more diverse backgrounds. Because it’s easier for me to express raw opinions in English. Because in Korea, writing in English just sounds sexier than writing in Korean.

Also, the upcoming extinction of South Korea worries the hell out of me. Korean babies are now as rare as giant pandas. This country will collapse when most of the population is over sixty. That’s not a hundred years from now. I mean within fifty years, assuming the world’s lowest fertility rate doesn’t suddenly rise. This statistic never fails to depress me to the core of my soul.

I’ve read works by Korean Americans and Korean adoptees struggling to understand their identities. But I rarely come across stories from people like me. People torn not by cultural clashes or racism, but by the lifelong pressure to be a “global citizen.”

My parents gave up most of their assets to fund my education abroad. For years, I liked to brag that I was educated in China and the U.S. I knew my life sounded more “interesting” if I acted unfamiliar with Korean culture. Based on others’ reactions, I told myself I had to become more American. Read the best American novels. Pick American role models. Always be prepared to leave Korea in case things start to fall apart.

Look at gomtang. It suddenly became a proud symbol of K-food when The New York Times praised a gomtang restaurant as one of the best in Manhattan. Even Korean food, the most Korean thing next to the language, becomes globally valuable when New Yorkers realize there’s more to it than just kimchi. Try running the best gomtang place in Seoul for decades. Even if you dedicate your life to that quest, no one will call you one of “the proud Koreans.” New York’s approval is like a blessing from Jesus himself.

But then I started asking, what’s so wrong about writing and publishing in Korean? There are more than 50 million Korean speakers. Would I really be missing my shot at greatness if I focused on them? Why do I care so much about others? What’s wrong? Should I resist this thought, or give in?

Yes, execution is what actually matters. It’s silly that I still let these brainwashed goals get the best of me. I’m so caught up thinking about the audience that I’ve lost sight of what I actually do well. I don’t even know if I truly enjoy writing in two languages. I might be stuck in this maze forever, living as a mediocre blogger, rambling about self-doubt, and envying Pulitzer-winning artists who get to share their work with the world.

Do you want your blog to be as minimal as possible?
Then choose Mataroa, Smol Pub, or LMNO.

Do you want your blog to be part of the fediverse?
Then choose Micro.blog or Ghost.

Do you want your blog to be part of the AT Protocol?
Then choose Leaflet.

Do you want your blog to have rich text editor?
Then choose Scribbles, Pagecord, Ghost, Lykhari, or Pika.

Do you want your blog to have simple markdown editor?
Then choose Mataroa or Bear Blog.

Do you want to make sure your blog lasts forever?
Then choose Bear Blog or Posthaven.

Do you want to code a blog by yourself?
Then choose one of the well-regarded SSGs. Deploy the site on Cloudflare, Vercel, Netlify, or Github Pages.

Do you need analytics for your blog(no need for an integration with another service)?
Then choose Bear Blog or Comma.

Do you want to write like you text?
Then use Gibberish.

Do you want to turn your files into a blog?
Then use Blot or LMNO.

I was two steps away from entering Clinic Number Seven. I took a deep breath and pressed a black rectangular button. Concrete-like glass door slid from right to left. I stepped inside and scanned the room left and right. Cool white fluorescent lights flooded the entire space. The inside looked like a white desert without enough oxygen.

I could taste the staleness on my tongue. I typed in my name on a giant screen and joined twenty other boys on white plastic chairs. Fuck this place. My mind wouldn’t stop buzzing. Waves. The fear arrived in waves. I looked around. No windows. Every single one of us was silently waiting to be neutered. In other words, we were all about to be reborn as loyal servicemen. Funny thing is, we could’ve chosen a different path. They gave us a choice.

Fourteen minutes before the surgery, I remembered the first time I heard about neutering. A year ago, I was playing dodgeball at lunchtime. Luke, a Chinese boy with round glasses, came up to me and said, “I heard they cut your ding-dong.” “What?” I said. Luke put his small hand on my shoulder and whispered in my ear. “Watch out for the green building next to the school. My brother got neutered by a crazy doctor in there.”

Since that day, the word “neutered” hovered by my ears like bees in May. I began to notice many boys, a little older than I was, entering the clinic in summer. I biked around the clinic every day and saw the boys getting out of the building one by one, limping or in wheelchairs. When they were back in school, they acted like nothing had happened to them. I suspected their memories were wiped clean.

Somebody had to dig further. First, I asked Mom after dinner. “I should talk to his parents. They could get in trouble if Luke keeps telling those lies to everyone in school. Don’t you worry. You’ll understand how the system is set to help you get through difficult time," Mom said. She’d never lied, but she was hiding something. Maybe she thought I was too young and fragile to bear the truth. Or she simply parroted the guidance from our government. Either way, I couldn’t figure out what was going on with this world.

I tried many times to talk to Luke again. “I don’t know” was his initial answer. “Don’t ever talk to me again” was his final response. A few days later, I couldn’t even find him around school. I heard he got transferred to another school. Probably for spilling the truth. That happened for defying the grand scheme of things.

On the very last day of being a seventh grader, all the boys in my class were gathered in Wallace Hall. Mr. A, our principal, coughed a few times, trying to summon his big-boy voice. “Good afternoon everyone. I’m here to show you something very important. Something you must understand to become an honorable member of our society.”

The lights went off. No sound was made for almost a minute. Wallace was never this silent. Then Mr. A turned a video on. President Ha showed up on a giant screen. She died three years ago. Mom had a habit of saying “she was the best leader we’ve had." Ha looked young—must be at least ten years before she died of lung cancer.

Ha looked straight at us and began talking. “All men in this great nation know we do not tolerate any kind of violence against each other. Have you wondered how we achieved this everlasting peace? What if I tell you the world struggled to eradicate murder until this revolutionary act in 2060?"

Murder? It’s impossible to witness even a fistfight in my neighborhood. Ha showed us images of wars, concentration camps, and prisons. Millions were dead. Piles of bodies floated in rivers. Humans did that to other humans. Why were they so different from us? How did we evolve from those wild animals? My head was spinning with questions, but I kept my mouth shut. The truth was about to be handed to us. The truth was about to split my life in two.

Because a sentence could change your life.

Let me know your email, and I’ll send you a handpicked sentence from a book I’m reading.

No spam. No ads. No AI. No tracking.
Just your friend sending you beautiful sentences.

Check out the archive of sentences to decide if you want them in your inbox.

I could see Kelly across the hall. The door was half-open, and tiny dust particles floated around him. I stood at the door for a few seconds. Kelly spotted me and said “hey.” When I sat next to him, he asked what my “next step” was. “Maybe some kind of marketing job,” I replied. Kelly seemed indifferent to the ambiguous answer. He’d probably dealt with so many kids with half-baked plans. He put his left hand on his chin and stayed silent for a while.

“Why don’t you ask Professor James? He’s new but taught marketing for more than a decade,” Kelly said. Kelly took a pen from his shirt pocket and started writing James’ email on a scrap of paper. “I’ll let James know that you’re interested in meeting him in his office. You email James to set up a time.” Handing me the wrinkled note, Kelly showed me the biggest grin I’d seen in four years. It was our final meeting, and there was no goodbye. He seemed to relish the unburdening when he walked me out of the office.

Back home, I looked for James on ratemyprofessor.com. James had 4.8 stars from another university. “Professor James changed my life,” a five-star review said. Some of these reviews felt fake, but I kept digging. On one tab, I had James’ profile picture from his personal website. He was wearing silver glasses and a navy Olympic National Park hat. On another tab, I watched a year-old TED talk with 160,000 views on YouTube. Apparently, he was also on the board of huge companies like Tyson. I spent the night studying James. Past midnight, I emailed him for an appointment.

“So, Hyunjae, Kelly told me you’re interested in marketing. Why?” James was wearing a grey t-shirt with a fishing man logo on it. The man was bald and had no hair on his face. Everything about him was clean. He could pass for a Korean skincare model—no acne, no blemishes, not even a mole. His room contained only four objects: A clock, laptop, notebook, and pencil. I could only guess the books are stacked inside the white cabinets. To me, he seemed more like a guru than a professor.

I pulled myself back into the conversation and answered the question. “I went to a pharmacy the other day–on Grand Ave. The pharmacist handed me the pills in a small white bag. On one side of the bag, there was information about the pills that I’d been prescribed. On the other side, there were eight, I mean eight, ads about some restaurants and stores in the city. I felt ambushed. Ads weren’t supposed to be on prescription bags. I wanted to do something about it. I’d never felt more energized. I thought maybe I could even make money off it.”

I couldn’t tell if James was really listening. Barely nodding with a stern face, his eyes were closed. I felt like I was staring at a bust of him. I didn’t know what to say anymore. I could tell him I was busy earning my tuition for the past four years. I could tell him my mother died a couple months ago. I could tell him that I was lost searching for a place to be settled permanently. There was so much I wanted to say, but none of it mattered. I looked at a plant, maybe a fern, under his desk. Just like that, James and I sat in silence for ten minutes.

To be honest, I’ve been distracted like a moth at night. While I wished to write beautiful stories, I’ve spent a significant portion of my energy into consuming news and TV shows.

I need to transform my habit of following all kinds of trending content online. I enjoy publishing podcast, writing blog posts, and coding websites, but my days lack clear purpose. I feel like my life will stay the same after 10 years running on a treadmill. It’s time to wake up and face the truth. I must make a writing schedule and treat it like a sacred ritual.

Here’s my plan: I’ll publish a post on my journal and Bluesky every day. Most importantly, I’ll publish a short story every Sunday on this website. I’ll always give my best to ensure these stories are as good as the ones on papers.

No excuses. This schedule must be protected, no matter what.

I see tourists in Jeju struggling to find things to do. Most rely on ChatGPT or TripAdvisor and end up at the same crowded spots that locals avoid.

That’s why my friends and I(we call ourselves Three Deers lol) met every week for months to create the ultimate Jeju City guidebook.

Who is this book for?

• Travelers exploring Jeju without a tour guide
• Food lovers looking for the best eats (vegan spots included)
• Visitors who would rather walk or use transit than rent a car
• Anyone in Jeju who wants to visit the stores, restaurants, and historic sites we love

A guidebook should save you hours of trial and error. This book comes as a Google Sheet, and you can download as Excel or PDF. Also, every place has a direct Naver Map link for quick navigation.

Check out the book and let me know if you have any questions. We hope this guidebook offers you a glimpse of Jeju we love.❤️

I hear my feet rustling under the thick blanket. I must go. It’s time to walk outside and grasp the magic.

I check what others are doing. I sense what they’re thinking. I’m trapped inside the web. Help me. I cry out in my thoughts.

I’ve made things, but they no longer are my voice. Then I search for books, anything that might save my day. I see the stacks on black shelves. They watch as I order another one. What am I? I panic, pressed for time.

The light’s filtering in. I’m three steps from the end of this tunnel. This darkness doesn’t bother me anymore. My eyes are closed, and I tell myself once again: I’ll read. I’ll read. I’ll read.

Lately, I’ve been moving away from profit-driven apps and turning to free or “good enough” software. And honestly, it’s been a huge relief. For one, I’ve stopped wasting hours looking for the perfect app. I’ve tried almost every writing tool out there, from Ulysses to Author. Now I stick with free options like CotEditor and MarkEdit, or an affordable app called Simpletext. These apps are well-maintained, lightweight, and have all the features I actually use. I’m genuinely thankful to the developers who make and share them.

After deciding to cut back on subscriptions, I canceled SetApp and started looking for alternatives. Below is a list of the best free or low-cost Mac apps I use almost every day. They may not be flashy, but they’re solid, reliable, and they get the job done.

• Simpletext
• CotEditor
• MarkEdit
• WriteRoom
• Freewrite
• Plain Text Editor
• Focus
• Enso
• Showdown
• Readest
• Lucky
• Ice
• SocialFocus
• AltTab
• HazeOver
• Maccy
• Color Picker
• Next DNS

It had been only two years since he became an associate professor. Hyunsuk’s family in Korea thought he had an easy life. He wanted to prove that becoming a professor today was just as difficult as getting a frame delivered from YouTube.

Before Saint Joseph’s, Hyunsuk had spent eight years analyzing the comedic features of contemporary Korean novels. He especially liked dystopian humor from his home country. His first course, Dystopia Within Korean Novels, was an attempt to explain why Korean writers gravitated toward the bleakness of their social and political environment.

He could fill an arena with the people who doubted his effort to become a useful researcher, teacher, and writer. “Do you really think reading fiction is the way to get the most out of your life?” Even his beloved uncle had said this when Hyunsuk shared his plans to get a Ph.D. in Asian Literatures.

Yet here he was, earning a professorial paycheck, standing as a doctor of Korean Literature, lecturing K-pop fans about the messy history of his motherland—all in English.

Many students in his department walked into his office with faces of eternal grief. Some of them looked like they had just lost a parent. They rarely talked about their appreciation for the works of Han Kang, Jung Yoo-jung, or Baek Su-rin. Most of them, even the first-years, wanted to know if their degree would be worth anything in the future. They had probably seen pie charts from the GPT proving “English majors on average make 50 percent less than Economics majors.”

“I honestly don’t know how to prove the usefulness of the degree,” Hyunsuk told them. “I myself considered going to law school ten years ago.” He still did the math, wondering how his life would have changed if he had followed his dad’s advice and gone to the cheapest law school in town.

But he would never say—maybe he wasn’t allowed to—that studying Literature was the stupidest decision one could make. Hyunsuk knew one thing for sure: stories save people’s lives, and puking out your thoughts through reading and writing can pull you out of some dark, dark shit.

There was a student from China named Chu. She walked into Hyunsuk’s office, her face puffy like she’d been crying for two hours. She smelled like clean bedsheets and hand sanitizer.

“What’s up, Chu?” he asked.

Her parents wanted her to switch majors.

“What do they want you to study?”

“They want me to become a lawyer,” she said.

“You can one hundred percent apply to law school with a degree in Literature,” Hyunsuk said.

“They want me to study History or Anthropology,” she replied. “They say those would look much better on my application.”

That stung. Hyunsuk never realized his department was at the bottom of the academic food chain. His face turned red because he really had nothing to tell her. He almost said, Your parents have a fucking point. Leave me alone and listen to your mommy and daddy.

Chu left his office, and Hyunsuk suddenly realized the need to arm himself with the knowledge to defend the study of literature.

He headed straight to the library. He now had a sacred duty. His God awaited him.

While watching this video in which Andrej Karpathy explains the basic principles of ChatGPT, I was suddenly inspired by an HTML page filled entirely with text. It would be awesome if I could cram all the text from kangminseok.com onto one page.

Before the inspiration faded, I immediately put it into action. I thought it wouldn’t be too difficult since I didn’t need to design the page, but the real challenge was data extraction. According to the Hugo template I was using, I had to fetch all the posts (excluding pages) from both the English and Korean blogs and convert them from the original Markdown format to plain text. This was necessary so that all the sentences could be continuously strung together to completely fill the page.

I asked GPT to write code to fetch all the posts in content/blog and content.ko/blog, but for some reason it kept failing. I then tried filtering by URL instead of file path, but that also failed. Eventually, I divided the English and Korean data in Scratch and then merged the two samples, which finally worked.

The successful code is as follows:

<!DOCTYPE html>
<html lang="en">
<head>
  <meta charset="UTF-8" />
  <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0" />
  <title>{{ .Title }}</title>
  <style>
    html, body {
      font-size: 10px;
      margin: 0;
      padding: 0;
      font-family: system-ui, sans-serif;
      overflow-x: hidden;
      text-align: left;
    }

    img {
      display: none !important;
    }

    #text-container, #text-container * {
      margin: 0;
      padding: 0;
      line-height: 1;
    }
    #text-container {
      padding: 0;
    }
    article {
      display: block;
      margin-bottom: 1em;
    }
    h1, h2, h3 {
      margin: 0 0 0.25em;
      display: block;
    }
  </style>
</head>
<body>
  <div id="text-container">
    {{/* Build slices for English and Korean pages using Scratch */}}
    {{ $.Scratch.Set "eng" (slice) }}
    {{ $.Scratch.Set "ko" (slice) }}
    {{ range .Site.AllPages }}
      {{ $page := . }}
      {{ with $page.File }}
        {{ if hasPrefix .Path "blog/" }}
          {{ $temp := $.Scratch.Get "eng" | append $page }}
          {{ $.Scratch.Set "eng" $temp }}
        {{ end }}
        {{ if hasPrefix .Path "content.ko/blog/" }}
          {{ $temp := $.Scratch.Get "ko" | append $page }}
          {{ $.Scratch.Set "ko" $temp }}
        {{ end }}
      {{ end }}
    {{ end }}
    {{ $eng := $.Scratch.Get "eng" }}
    {{ $ko := $.Scratch.Get "ko" }}
    {{ $pages := union $eng $ko }}
    {{ range $pages }}
      <article>
        <h2><a href="{{ .RelPermalink }}">{{ .Title }}</a></h2>
        <div>
          {{ .RawContent
             | replaceRE "(?m)^###\\s*(.*)$" "<h3>$1</h3>"
             | replaceRE "(?m)^##\\s*(.*)$" "<h2>$1</h2>"
             | replaceRE "(?m)^#\\s*(.*)$" "<h1>$1</h1>"
             | replaceRE "\\*\\*(.*?)\\*\\*" "<em>$1</em>"
             | replaceRE "\\[([^\\]]+)\\]\\(([^\\)]+)\\)" "<a href=\"$2\">$1</a>"
             | safeHTML
          }}
        </div>
      </article>
    {{ end }}
  </div>
</body>
</html>

The flag was visible from a kilometer away. The visitors all took a peek at the embroidered name, some of them even asked how my uncle had a connection with the congressman. “I don’t know,” I said. All I knew was the famous politician had briefly attended the same high school as my uncle, forty years ago.

When the flag got delivered by an old man in tracksuit, the adults were busy rearranging the condolence flowers like stage props. The flowers from college presidents, CEOs, and politicians had to stand in the first row.

The funeral was one last chance to prove my uncle’s life was worth living. The visitors were expected to be surprised like “Oh, would you look at that - Look at the names, he must have been somebody.”

My uncle was a humble man. He spent his weekends on a weathered fishing boat and never failed to make me laugh when I was stressed about school grades. “You study to learn, not to win over others,” he would tell me. He didn’t go to college and insisted he was happier than most of “the smart kids in the classroom." Now here we were, scattering borrowed prestige over his dead body.

When I was 13, I studied abroad in rural China as part of an exchange program for thirty Korean students learning the language at a local middle school.

I moved to a strange environment to escape my hometown’s middle school. Back in Korea, I had no friends at school and struggled with depression. I thought I had to leave Korea to survive, so I applied for the exchange program and studied Mandarin for a month before running away to China.

In China, I was the second youngest student in the program. I had lots of hyungs around me. I looked up to them like gods. They were all I had in this foreign place. Soon I was doing whatever they did—smoking, drinking, skipping school—anything to be accepted as one of them.

I fucked up and made a lot of mistakes. I can’t just blame the older boys—I chose to copy them, desperate for their attention. But what started as me trying to be “cool” sometimes turned into something much darker. What they called pranks weren’t pranks at all.

The abuse started with the oldest hyung. One day, he and several others held me down and stripped me naked. He ordered other kids to bring a bottle of lotion, and they poured it on me. Three or four held my arms and legs, so I couldn’t move. I shouted “No! Stop!” but they took pictures of my penis soaked in the lotion. All of them were laughing.

Another time, the oldest hyung (the usual villain) asked me to his bed. He grabbed one of my hands and put it on his penis. “What do you think?” he asked. Then he got a boner and asked again, “It’s fucking big, right?” He did this to me many times throughout the year.

After a year, I transferred to Shanghai, hoping for a fresh start. But the pattern repeated itself. In a dorm with four other Korean boys, I was again the youngest. Despite everything I’d been through, I fell back into the same trap—wanting to belong, wanting to be accepted by the older boys.

I didn’t learn from the past year and continued to worship the hyungs. We skipped school, stole stuff, and spent all night at a PC cafe.

The abuse followed me there too. The oldest hyung in Shanghai would force himself into my room, pin me to the bed, and simulate sex acts while I lay there frozen. He treated it like a joke, but it wasn’t funny. We were fully clothed, but he screamed as if he was in a porn.

This went on for two years. Being the youngest and smallest, I couldn’t fight back. I liked that they adored me as their younger brother. I was a loyal dog who fetched anything they asked for. I kept trying to earn their approval, even when they took advantage of me.

These memories still visit me—moments of feeling completely helpless, trapped between wanting to belong and wanting to run. But I’ve always hesitated to call it trauma. Yes, those moments shaped me, like any experience. But did they break me? For years, I’ve told myself I’m fine, that I’ve moved past it. Maybe writing this is my way of finally asking: What do you do with memories you’re not sure have hurt or traumatized you?

The flood of free content on the internet has made it incredibly hard for small-scale artists to thrive. Every creator, willingly or not, is competing with the likes of MrBeast and Squid Game. Sure, platforms highlight “rising creators,” but only a handful earn enough to pay their bills. Finding an audience is hard enough. Asking others to pay for your art? Even Ethan Hunt would say no to that mission.

Most people don’t even realize they’re part of the “attention economy.” After years of consuming free content, clicking “like” or “subscribe” starts to feel like enough of a payment. Leaving a comment? That’s like leaving an extra tip on the table. Meanwhile, platforms reap the profits from this massive attention, while creators with 100 likes and 11 comments are left wondering how much longer they can keep going.

For all its scams and hype, the Web3 movement gave creators like me a glimmer of hope. The idea was simple: a culture where audiences directly pay their favorite creators. Imagine tipping a blogger the way you’d buy a book at your local bookstore. That’s what I hoped for.

My question is: do we really want to get stuck in the same theater? I don’t want to be just another face in the crowd, watching whatever happens to be trending on Instagram. Diversity matters—because if we don’t support it, we risk becoming a bunch of programmed machines. That’s why I believe it’s so important to support independent creators who can’t help but express themselves.

I already told you that I’ll read your blog. Let me go one step further. I’ll pay for your art. I’ll “buy you a coffee,” just like I would at a coffee shop with a friend. If you use Patreon, Ko-Fi, Liberapay, or something similar, send me the link. I’ll support your endeavor—now with both attention and money.

I’m not rich. I’m struggling to make ends meet myself, so I won’t be able to support everyone in my feed. But as I earn more, I’ll support more creators. Because… why not? Creative work should be an exchange, not exploitation.

We feel hungover after hours of scrolling through the prison of recommended content. Why? As the great pizza maker Chris Bianco once said, “Shit goes in, shit comes out.” No one wants their brain turning into a crappy pie.

Doomscrolling makes me feel like a well-trained dog, just waiting for someone to say, “Eat!” I had to do something about the algorithms pushing me toward a bunch of lifeless rabbit holes. I needed to invest more time in curating and archiving to hone my ideas. I decided to create and adhere to a feed filled with human-written posts from personal websites.

Lately, I’ve been using two services to personalize my feeds: Scour and Minifeed. I can’t believe they’re free. Both respect privacy and are transparent about their development roadmaps. Kudos to the amazing developers.

Now I spend a lot less time reading about the controversies of celebrities or billionaires. The other side of the Internet is filled with writers and programmers who actually take the time to reply to every email from their readers. This environment feels much better.

Although I haven’t worked for a company in over four years, I still think about the time I prepared for interviews. I was as scared as my cat hearing the sound of a stranger knocking on our door. I imagined the interviewer would throw me a bunch of piercing questions that would push me toward the cliff. I thought my job was to prove the usefulness of my intelligence.

I couldn’t be more wrong. Most of the time, the interviewers were only interested in my skills on paper. “How good is your English?” “How good are you with Microsoft Excel?” “Can you write well?” “Do you know anything about social media marketing?” were the same generic questions that echoed throughout my days. Except for a few cases, I was left clueless as to why the person in front of me had not even cared to read my résumé.

I would never get a job again(I’m a terrible employee anyway), but I wonder what good interview questions are. I don’t think we can assess someone with painfully boring questions. How do we know if the other person isn’t lying or if their answers weren’t rehearsed?

In the end, interviews are like conversations. The best ones break through boundaries set by automated responses. They bring out the candidate’s unique qualities—often forcing them to say, “I don’t know” or “I’m not sure.” 10 questions on my website are worth answering in that regard.

For me, reading a physical book is completely different from browsing on my laptop. When I read or watch something online, I never fall asleep. In fact, I often stay awake until 1 AM, fixated on deploying a website, publishing a post, or scrolling through a bunch of newsletters. Even when my eyelids grow heavy, I don’t fall asleep; instead, I stare at the screen as if I don’t need sleep at all.

That’s why I prefer reading actual books. When I’m on my keyboard, my brain becomes so busy—it’s like my consciousness is tethered to the magical device in front of me. Sitting on a couch with a paperback feels different. Multitasking suddenly becomes trivial. I find relief in immersing myself in the text until I drift off to sleep.

We often ask each other tough questions. Some people answer confidently, acting like they fully understand what’s happening in our world. But most of the time, my honest answer is, “I don’t know.”

People may act like they know everything, but reading a book or getting a degree doesn’t mean you understand a topic completely. Why not celebrate the spirit of idk? Saying “I don’t know” doesn’t mean you’re ignorant. “I don’t know” is a humble starting point for meaningful discussions. When you think about it, we can’t be sure about anything.

Son, I’m so proud of you. Now I can finally tell everyone in my group chat that my boy got into an Ivy League school. I kind of wish it was Yale, but I’ll make it sound like you chose Cornell over other schools. A few days ago, I calculated the money I spent on your education. Private tutoring, boarding school, fitness training, and college application consulting amount to more than a million dollars. Can you believe that? If I had put this money into the S&P 500, I would have been a hundred times happier. But I had to make sure you get a bragging right whenever you talk about your alma mater. You don’t seem to understand how much I’ve sacrificed for this moment. You’ll thank me later. Go change the world.

Because I live in Jeju, which draws millions of tourists year-round, I often find myself flipping through guestbooks at coffee shops, bars, and even theaters. Many of the entries reveal why people choose to travel to Jeju alone. They’re surprisingly candid about their struggles with partners, parents, and colleagues.

A few weeks ago, I read that one of them wrote, “I was so busy and felt so overwhelmed that I couldn’t do anything. I had to escape Seoul for Jeju because I desperately needed a room to breathe.” I became fascinated by this sense of urgency—the need to retreat to a quiet space to forget everything else.

Like the travelers, I also longed for a place to pause and reflect on my life. I couldn’t afford to pack my bags and leave, so I deployed my own version of a room to breathe and opened its door to others.

I have zero interest in capturing your attention and monetizing it. The Internet, now more than ever, deserves spaces where people can be free from the constant bombardment of information. Come by once in a while and fill your lungs with air. Take your time. We all know it’s okay to breathe.

When the new year approaches, people suddenly get busy and start asking each other this same soulless question.

This December was no different. As soon as our calendars hit the final month, every platform was posting its “Top Albums of the Year.” The year was already over for so many of us. Today was just a concrete step towards the upcoming year.

In the past few days, I felt pressured to dig up every problem in my life and hold it high above my head. To look cool, I had to pretend I was preparing to become a new version of myself. So I came up with a word of the year 2025, made plans to earn more money, and wrote down ways to boost my productivity.

Until November, I was fine making just enough money to call myself an independent artist. I worried about the future, but deep down I believed pouring 100% into my art was my life’s true purpose. Then December came, and I started obsessing over whether I had any tangible success in 2024. I wanted to make sure my 2024 looked good on paper.

What projects did I finish? How much money did I earn? How many books did I read? How many posts did I publish? How many awards did I win? I asked myself these questions and felt frustrated when I realized I didn’t have any impressive numbers to impress the crowd. I was already caught in a self-inflicted competition. Suddenly, my love for reading and writing felt like something to be ashamed of.

I looked around me, stuck in a country where young people leave and old people take their own lives. I read devastating news about the martial law and the plane crash. I mourned the death of democracy and the victims. I grew anxious about the idea of being swallowed up by a nationwide crisis. I began to lose my smile whenever I spoke. I became almost convinced I was a useless piece of shit who needed fixing.

As I’m writing this final paragraph, there’s only a minute left in 2024. I must say, I’m tired of this depressing game. I don’t want to force myself to become a different person every year. Life doesn’t magically change when December 31 turns into January 1. The “new me” isn’t waving at me on the other side of the year. No matter how many fireworks light up around the world, I’ll still be the same old me. It’s about the right time to be proud of that.

Fortunetellers thrive,
while crowds worship messiahs with wigs.
Presidents get impeached,
when dads finish the third bottle of soju.

Trees get cut,
apartments rise,
Americanos flow.
Games are played,
cameras roll,
ideas torched.

Watch the kids dance and smile.
Watch the idols born and burned.
Watch the elected emperors
flying business around the world.

Chant and chant.
Celebrate and celebrate.
Our ruler reigns again.

Are you starting a blog? Then email me your domain name. I want to be your first reader.

I’ve run this website for more than three years. Sometimes my friends tell me they enjoy reading my posts. Most of the time, though, I can’t help but think no one actually cares about what I have to say.

“Most people don’t even read Hemingway. Why would anyone read my blog?” That question alone can tie my hands when I try to keep writing.

I no longer push myself to justify the hundreds of hours I’ve spent polishing my blog. I’ve stopped tracking visitors. I’ve given up on submitting my site to Hacker News, thinking someday my domain might appear on the front page. Now, all I want is to stay on schedule and publish at least one post a week.

Running a personal blog is one of the purest art forms online. My favorite online writers code, write, edit, and publish—not because they’re launching another BuzzFeed, but because they want to share their values with the universe. And yes, it feels much better to write for people, not algorithms.

So here’s the deal: publish a post on your personal blog, then email me your website or RSS feed. I’ll quickly become a regular visitor. If I enjoy your writing, I will be the first one to support you on Ko-fi or Buy Me a Coffee. I’ll treat your posts like books. I’ll read them with the care you deserve.

A Korean hip-hop album that’s NOT about wearing a Rolex and driving a Bentley. Artists listen to B-Free when hipsters listen to Beenzino.

Denzel Curry - KING OF THE MISCHIEVOUS SOUTH

With this album, Denzel Curry has become my favorite rapper.

Jessica Pratt - Here in the Pitch

Play this album at night. Read books or meditate.

Logic - Ultra 85

Ten years ago, Logic was my hero. I’m glad he’s still making great music.

MICHELLE - Song About You Specifically

This album made me dance.

Annika Kilkenny - Look Mom I Made It

The algorithm recommended this album, and the robot was right. I like her music.

Charli XCX - Brat

Everyone says it’s the album of the year. Is it that good? I don’t know, but the melody won’t get out of my head.

Fujii Kaze - Tiny Desk Concerts Japan

This is not an album. I’ve listened to Fujii Kaze’s Tiny Desk performance at least a hundred times. I’m not joking—I even memorized the lyrics.

Money and power. Money and power, my friend.

You still want to run? Okay. I see you’ve got passion. I get it—you’re angry. But think for a moment. Your opponents will destroy your life. They’ll dig into your past and bribe your friends and family to see if any of them hates you. Once they find your weakness—and they will—they’ll publish twenty articles questioning your eligibility to serve. They’ll make you look like trash. You’ll be crucified, both on- and offline. Thousands of bots will flood the comments, saying things like, “This devil must be arrested immediately.” You won’t be able to stop the tsunami of hate. You don’t have powerful connections or fat envelopes stuffed with $100 bills.

I care about you. Don’t let your family suffer for your decision. They’ll lose jobs, friends, and reputation—all because of your foolish dream to play the hero.

Let’s say God helps you get elected. Then what? You’ll be expected to scrub the system smeared with horseshit. Do you think you can do that? Do you think you can stay as a revolutionary once you’re settled in the governor’s office? You’ll fly business. You’ll eat omakase at the fanciest hotel in the city. Everything will be complimentary. You’ll become an emperor in a palace built by taxpayers. These perks will seduce you. They’ll turn you into an addict. You’ll end up being one of them.

So, don’t even try to be a governor.

Minjoong got up and washed his face with cold water. Like always, he grabbed his beret and opened the door in front of him. Every morning, he held a cardboard at his spot for three hours. “Stop the reconstruction,” the placard said.

He stood next to a giant ginkgo tree at the apartment’s entrance. On their way out, a few drivers rolled down their windows to say hi. He didn’t recognize these neighbors anymore, but smiled and tipped his hat to show his gratitude.

Forty years ago, when Chanmi Apartment was built, local newspapers printed articles saying people would never consider buying an overpriced apartment when they could pay the same price to live in “an actual house.” Minjoong’s mother shared the sentiment that all the apartments would be deserted for many years as a giant ghost town. “I’m afraid of sleeping in your house,” she said. She even believed in a rumor about some apartment residents in Seoul getting cancer because of perennial gas leaks in the building.

It was Minjoong’s friend Yaeji who convinced him to sell his father’s crumbling Hanok and buy the smallest unit in Chanmi Apartment. “The new era has come,” Yaeji said. She was an elementary school teacher and more importantly a cool-headed visionary who liked to tell everyone we were part of an exciting moment.

Yaeji said buying a house was like choosing a stock. Minjoong still hears her voice in his dreams, saying “You will be thankful when the apartment’s value skyrockets in the future.” His house was a wise investment. She was right about that. However, he never managed to sell it and live as a millionaire. People viewed Minjoong as a clipped parrot inside a gilded cage.

When Minjoong first met Yaeji at a coffee shop, she was holding the first translated copy of The Wealth of Nations. She seemed itching to finish the book instead of hearing another story of a son who was programmed to be obedient to whatever his parents told him to do.

Yaeji came to the coffee shop because her mom begged her to “just talk to a boy once a month and see what happens.” The mother thought Yaeji would lose her “market value” after the age of twenty-five. “Your marriage luck is outstanding this year. I asked a really famous mudang last week. Try not to ruin everything,” the mother said. Yaeji complied because she knew the only way to win the argument was to stop arguing.

Yaeji gazed out the window, and Minjoong told her, “This is my first time in a coffee shop.” Yaeji turned and said nothing. He wanted to make their interaction worthwhile. He would have never come to the café if it weren’t for his uncle’s request. Otherwise, he wouldn’t pay a hundred won for merely a cup of muddy water.

“Do you mean this place? I come here once a month. It’s great for reading,” Yaeji said. Minjoong thought of an old copy of Choe Inhun’s novel in his backpack. He almost took it out, but Yaeji moved on to another topic.

“What do you think about our country? I don’t mean politically. I mean economically. Do you think we can be like America?”

Minjoong had never received this kind of question before. Maybe Korea could be modernized in a hundred years. He often dreamed of moving to the US after finishing graduate school. His older cousin had become a professor at the University of Wisconsin last year. Everyone in the family talked about him like he would become the next president of our country. Like he would come back to save us all from this land of misery.

“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t think we can be like America. Maybe many years later. We have so many problems. Our students can’t even demonstrate against the government. Last year, my professor slapped me for speaking out against the regime. He did that in front of two hundred people. I don’t know if I could say we’re on the right path. I really don’t know.”

“I said not politically. Mmm, I know what you’re trying to say, though. So you’re a skeptic. You think all problems are stemming from our corrupt system. What if the president is gone? Dead. Right now. Do you think we can change?”

“Why do you ask me?” Minjoong felt uneasy answering her questions. He was scared to dig deeper and find what really mattered to transform and revolutionize society. His body turned toward the exit, but he still wanted to know more about Yaeji. He wondered how she could be that blunt about everything in her head. Her personality was of a different breed.

For more than three years, Minjoong and Yaeji met at the same coffee shop every month. They always had loads of questions for each other—mostly about the politics and economic situations of their country. Although their parents thought the two were dating, the couple was not interested in romantic relationships. The two simply talked and talked until Yaeji moved to the US to study economics. Since then, she had never visited her home country. They exchanged letters a few times a year. Minjoong thought her honesty was finally being appreciated. That made him smile.

“We will now begin the demolition. Please leave the building, Mr. Minjoong Kim. Please understand there is nothing we can do to help you,” a suited man shouted through a loudspeaker. Minjoong opened his eyes and realized he had the same nightmare. In his silent room, he could still hear the sound of an army of excavators. He stood up and walked to the kitchen. He turned the electric kettle on and poured hot water into the cup with a green teabag. He sat down with the tea and focused on the earthy fragrance. After a few sips, he looked down and started sniffling. Tears were coming out of his eyes.

Fresh out of a community filled with liberal college students, I was perplexed by Trump’s impending presidency and felt compelled to align myself with those outraged by the election’s outcome. After reading the news for hours, I posted on Facebook, “Trump can never represent the wonderful people I’ve met in the U.S.” Then, I waited for a flood of likes to hit my notifications.

For me, not much changed after the election. I continued attending classes and writing essays. However, some friends told me that many classes at the liberal arts college were canceled because the students were too upset. Hearing stories of students weeping together in classes, I realized it had been the right decision to step out of that bubble and see that most people actually don’t care all that much.

My wife and I will be staying near Nanshijiao station. Let me know if you have any recommendations for us!

You are a writer from South Korea. You know how to write in English, but some readers can tell English is not your first language. Use simple vocabulary. Express your feelings with short sentences. Be honest without being redundant. It’s okay to be political, even controversial. Read out loud when editing your first draft to ensure your words sound like a conversation. Write as if you are a Korean brainchild of Lydia Davis and Tobias Wolff.

After feeding GPT-4o mini the prompt above, I asked for a short story. This is what I received:

The Flag

I watched the old woman hang her laundry on the line every Saturday. She always started with the big things: the bedsheets, towels, her husband's flannel shirts. Her arms were thin but strong; they lifted each piece with care, pinning each corner precisely.

One day, she pulled out a flag. It was old, faded, with colors that once had meaning. She held it like it was fragile, almost sacred. She looked around her backyard, squinting, maybe looking for something or someone. Her husband, maybe.

I was curious, so I spoke. "Excuse me," I said over the fence, feeling like I shouldn’t. "I didn’t know you had a flag."

She smiled, but her eyes were somewhere else. "Oh, this old thing? My husband kept it in a drawer. He never hung it up. Said it didn’t mean much these days, not like it used to."

I nodded. I didn’t know what else to say, so I watched her pin it up. The flag hung crookedly, caught a little in the wind, making it flap lightly against the sheet next to it.

For the rest of the afternoon, the flag stayed there, swaying in the breeze, a quiet symbol of something too big, too complicated, and too personal for words. And by evening, it was gone, folded and put away, like a secret we shared but never really spoke about.

Would you believe if I told you this story was written by a human writer? I don’t know about you, but I certainly would.

I liked the story, but it needed more colors. Where is this happening? Which neighborhood? Does the flag have any cultural significance?

So I asked GPT to add more details about the settings.

Here’s the revision:

The Flag

The old woman hung her laundry on the same line every Saturday morning. Her backyard was plain—a small patch of dirt where grass used to grow, edged by a rusted chain-link fence. Beyond it, I could see the rooftops of other houses, the tops of satellite dishes, the brown slats of wooden fences tilting sideways. Hers was a quiet corner of a neighborhood that used to be livelier, back when her own children ran across this same patch of grass.

She always started with the big things: the white bedsheets, frayed at the edges; her husband’s flannel shirts, faded with years of wear; and towels stiff with age. The woman’s arms were thin but firm. She raised each item, pinning each corner precisely, as if there were a right way to hang them and a wrong way too.

One morning, I noticed something unusual in her basket. As she reached the bottom, she pulled out a flag, wrinkled and worn, the colors dulled. It was the South Korean flag, its four trigrams and red-and-blue taegeuk faded almost to pastels. She handled it with care, as though it might tear.

"Good morning," I called over the fence, curious but careful. "I didn’t know you had a flag."

She glanced at me, surprised, then gave a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Oh, this old thing? My husband kept it in his dresser. He didn’t want to hang it up, said it didn’t mean much these days."

I nodded, not quite sure how to respond. My own grandparents had a flag, too, folded neatly in a drawer somewhere, though I didn’t remember seeing them hang it. Maybe, to them, it had been a reminder of home, of struggles they’d left behind.

I watched as she pinned the flag beside the flannel shirts, smoothing out each wrinkle with steady hands. The backyard fell silent. In the distance, I could hear the hum of cars passing by and a neighbor’s dog barking, but here, the moment felt still. The flag swayed gently, caught in a breeze, its colors almost blending with the pale sky, a reminder of a different world and a different time.

"Did your husband miss it?" I asked.

She looked away, her face shadowed. "He missed a lot of things," she said, voice barely audible. "But he said we shouldn’t live in the past."

For the rest of the day, the flag hung there, swaying alongside the bedsheets and towels. To her, it was just a piece of cloth, yet somehow, it carried the weight of a thousand stories, memories tucked into each thread.

By evening, it was gone. Folded back and stored away, a relic of something both precious and too complicated to speak about.

Oh no, the story suddenly lost its charms. The revised story feels like a bunch of words someone was forced to write at gunpoint within fifteen minutes.

I fed more prompts but failed to rescue the story. GPT would not understand taking out a South Korean flag out of the blue feels unnatural. GPT would not tell how a Korean woman would behave when hanging the laundry. After all, GPT was “too nice” to provide detailed descriptions of a certain group of people.

I get it now. GPT can write very good emails but can’t craft a genuine story. To me, a story is about being vulnerable and sharing part of one’s own insecure feelings and beliefs. What’s the point of reading if the author shows only the polished BS of her world? We already have plenty of lies blinding us all the time.

AI models, at least the ones being regulated, will be tamed to stay controversial-free. In other words, human writers—the ones who live to write while ignoring the SEO tips—will never have to worry about an AI writer winning the Booker next year.

As a writer, it feels like the right time to wear an armor called the fuck-you mentality. Why not spew anger at the reader, offend the perpetual liars, and laugh if someone asks about AI replacing writers? Lee Sedol quit Go because he thought the game no longer felt like an art. Writers can’t let the game of writing be boiled down to the billions of computations. Writing is about provoking, not winning.

Look at the story, cousin. Gaze and dissect it. What do you see? I see individual trauma, the restaurant industry, Chicago, New York, Copenhagen, hospitality, drug abuse, nasty obsessions, shattered relationships, death of loved ones, family disasters, yeasty donuts, messy sandwiches, risotto with a ribbon of brine, dull knives, green tapes, molded walls, San Marzano tomatoes, and the sound of Sydney crushing chips on a fucking omelette.

Cousin, I cry watching these episodes. Because I feel like the 45-year-old dude wiping forks all day to get a hold on life’s purpose. Because I panic at the sputter of that god-damn ticket printer on a steel countertop. Because I very well empathize with the “every second counts” mentality to grow as a human being.

The Bear knows we all crave authenticity. That’s why it doesn’t care if the real-world chefs were awkward as fuck in front of cameras. You know, the actors getting trained to cut veggies like pro chefs is not enough. Even when “the rotten tomatoes” are thrown at its face, The Bear will follow the gilded path of Eleven Madison Park.

Fuck the fans. Fuck the critics. Fuck the investors. I will turn The Bear on and wait for it to serve something that I could not have dreamed of. The spectators will be worried, but the balloon will not pop. Fuck me Storer and do what others are scared of.

Let it rip.

You think I’m joking? I’ll answer first. At least a couple hundred times. I’m not even counting the time when I was a toddler and had a one-inch penis.

I remember what his dick looked like. Give me a pen and paper, and I’ll draw his dick right now. With the shades and everything. Hand me a picture of a hundred random dicks, and I’ll find my daddy’s in a split second.

You asked me if I missed him. This is my answer. I still go to the sauna alone and follow the same routine. The warm bath, dry sauna, massage pool, and cold plunge. Just like how we did it for twenty years. Over and over. Until I realize he won’t be here anytime soon.

After this letter was posted, there were countless attempts to identify the author. However, even the government failed to track down the source of this letter.

Dear fellow citizens,

Fifteen years ago, when my father was sent to prison for stock manipulation, I thought my life would forever be in shambles. I was in high school, and the adults said he would be released when I graduated from college.

I put the release date on my countdown app and watched the number decrease by the second. I overheard adults saying he could be paroled for good behavior. For the first two years, I felt like my country was spying on me as if my bahavior was counted in to decide Dad’s parole. I lived with a default setting of sadness and regret.

Mom said the trial was heavily influenced by the media’s portrayal of my father. “Never listen to what other people talk about your father,” she said. Although I felt my mom’s frustration, I didn’t—and still don’t—think my father was innocent. Yes, he was following orders from the chaebols, but he still let hundreds of people lose their fortunes. He may say he did it for the family, but his excuse didn’t matter at the trial.

The year after my father’s imprisonment, the CEO of CZ Group, Joongyong Lee was brought to trial being accused of sexual assault, bribery, and stock manipulation. The news about the trial was the headline for many weeks. I remember turning on my computer to watch the judge sentencing Lee to a two-year probation. Lee clearly made far more people suffer than my father did, but the judge argued the chaebol’s imprisonment would deteriorate the economic situation of our country. I uttered “What?” at the screen until I had to swallow the fact this country was designed to serve the rich and powerful.

I was awakened. I read the pronouncement over and over again until I had no energy left to tremble with rage. My heart was dipped in helplessness. School taught me all citizens are equal before the law regardless of gender, religion, and social class. What happened to this promise? I was mesmerized by the truth. The bedrock of our country has long been compromised to protect the “royals” of this society.

I must ask: when will we begin to respect our constitution? I am sick of seeing the same old faces in the congress. We all know these politicians are quick to talk but slow to deliver results. There must be a better path forward. For us and future generations who will witness the same patterns of injustice unless we rise against the corruption. We deserve equality in practice, not merely on papers. There is no time to waste—the country needs a revolutionary solution.

My proposal: we must adopt an open-source AI model to bring transparency and justice to our corrupt legal system.

You may ask, “How can we trust the AI model?” “What if the defendant refused the robot’s judgement?” “What if the model had a critical bug?” These questions are crucial, and I am open to answer them one by one.

First, I can prove the model—named “The Justice”—is at least ten times more capable than any current human judge. I know most lawyers spent years in school to shove information into their brain, but they cannot be possibly up-to-date on all the legal knowledge and individual cases. Law is similar to arithmetics. Al models always outmatch humans in terms of speed, accuracy, and consistency.

The code only wants to learn and execute. The Justice does not care if you are a renown politician, chaebol, or K-pop singer. Humans cause discrimination and nepotism, not the AI models. More importantly, the algorithm is being developed and maintained by thousands of talented programmers around the world.

Before the public release, every code update, including mine, will have to be approved by over 60 percent of the programmars actively working on this project. No one is getting paid to write code or suggest ideas for this model. This is a mission based community of engineers who want to be part of a nationwide revolution. There’s no chance an individual or company could influence all these coders to manipulate the algorithm.

Furthermore, there will be an immutable protocol, a set of algorithmic rules, to govern the code repository. For example, after version 1.0 of the model is released, only one code update will be accepted per week. All citizens, after going through a rigorous ID verification, will be able to upvote or downvote up to three code changes per week. Hacking someone else’s ID or any attempt to meddle with the voting system will be dealt with the utmost seriousness. I propose any violation against the protocol to be punishable by at least ten years in prison.

Every programmer who submits a contribution will be asked to provide a 5-minute video explainer about her reason behind the code update. The video is for the public who may not be familiar with programming and law. If more than ten-thousand citizens report the video’s argument to be inadequate, the video will be immediately taken down, and the suggested code update will be revoked.

These “lawmakers” will be incentivized to work for public good not selfish gains. The user names of these programmers will always be credited on the bottom of the code repository. We cannot trust the bureaucratic system but can put faith in each other through the mathmatical protocol. My ideas could sound overwhelming, but human society has evolved with technological advancement for thousands of years. The adoption of AI is a natural progression in the course of history.

The code will substitute our constitution, and I understand the gravity of this statement. I assure you. When the new system becomes a norm, not only a handful of lawyers but also all citizens will understand the laws governing our lives. As the court system evolves, we will no longer be ruled by the high-class elites.

Traditionally, trials have caused enormous cost and drama. Hiring a lawyer, especially the one who has a connection to the judge, is extremely expensive (because everyone knows the judge will favor her friends). At the same time, the trial process is always anxiety-inducing and painfully slow. Machines have already built our cars, skyscrapers, computers, and even spaceships. We already have advanced technology to make the legal process a hundred times cheaper and faster.

The time has come to democratize our courts. Who would you trust? A human who gets afraid of being disliked by the public, chaebols, and friends. Or the open-source code that only cares about being fair and just for every citizen. I choose the latter.

For far too long, lawyers have held the reins of power in this country, shaping policies and decisions to suit their interests. Look at all the elected representatives and presidents, they passed a bar or went to a law school. They have controlled this country for so long, and I expect them to be the all out waging a war against the attempt to adopt the AI model. They will act like the change will be the end of this country. I invite them to test the model and provide concrete examples that demonstrate the superiority of the current system.

The model is programmed to utilize all legal knowledge in databases and consider all evidence and arguments from all sides of a court case. However, all citizens have rights to be skeptical about the model’s capability and reliability. I am not asking you to believe The Justice is flawless. I do not expect its adoption to happen overnight. It will take a long time—perhaps many years—for the model to be acknowledged by law practitioners, elected officials, and millions of citizens.

As I am finishing this letter, I am looking out my window and hearing a bunch of children playing together. I feel something special in my heart. It is time to step off the same treadwheel and start walking toward the road ahead.

1. Whatever money I had, give it to my wife. If she’s dead, give everything to the kids who want to become artists. Donate my books to a library. Please don’t throw them away. That would haunt me, and I’ll burn forever in hell if you do that.
2. I had a wonderful life. I’m grateful for all my teachers, friends, and family. Without their help, my life would have stayed in darkness. I was extremely lucky, right? Most people are shit, but I stumbled upon the jewels.
3. It’s okay if my work didn’t amount to anything. I’m dead anyway. I don’t care anymore. I only wish I had invested 100% of my energy into my art. I was distracted. By many other stimulations. I always wanted a simple schedule. Read and write. All day. That was my dream.

Don’t worry. I’m not killing myself. This letter will constantly be updated alongside my aging.

Thank you for reading.

Your friend,
Minsuk Kang

Too late. I was already in a world without my father. Three hours earlier, he threw himself from the twelfth floor onto the rugged concrete. He jumped at 4:00 AM and was found thirteen minutes later by a young woman entering the building.

“Can I talk to the person who first witnessed him on the ground?” I asked.

“Ma’am, I’m afraid that’s impossible. She doesn’t want to recount the scene anymore. She told us not to contact her ever again.”

Dosuk kept talking, but I couldn’t hear him anymore. I imagined Dad barely breathing in the darkness—his head bleeding, fingers twitching, and the sharp reek of five bottles of soju in his system.

“I want you to come down here to Yangsan as soon as possible. I believe you are his only family left, right?” Dosuk said.

“Father and I hadn’t been close for a long time. I need some time to think about it.”

“If you don’t come in a week, the police are obliged to cremate his body and bury him in the public cemetery. Please understand that.”

I said “sure,” and hung up the phone. I scrolled down my Messages. I called my wireless carrier to confirm whether Dad had really never sent me a message before killing himself. I wasn’t sad he was gone forever. I was in disbelief that he never apologized for what he had done to me.

“Are you gonna visit him in the hospital?” Jungmin asked. She knew I was about to burst into tears.

“I’m not sure. If I go there, that means I acknowledge that I’m his daughter. I’ll have to wear a stupid gown and prepare for his funeral too. What about meeting the extended family? I can’t put on my sad face for my scumbag father.”

Jungmin massaged my shoulders with her two calloused hands. “You always get a knot in your shoulder blades when you’re stressed.”

“You know, I didn’t talk to him for fourteen years. He said I wasn’t his daughter anymore when I decided to live with you. Why the fuck do I have to take care of his dead body? I don’t owe him anything. That man was a monster.”

I scratched my head and sighed like the eighteen-year-old me who failed to get into a prestigious university in Seoul. I couldn’t turn my brain off, as if his fractured body inside the coffin was calling me. I couldn’t erase the memories of him either. It was like his DNA in my body was screaming for help.

Three days later, I called the police. Dosuk told me I could “pick up” his body at the police funeral. First, I was asked to check his frozen face in a metallic coffin. “Yes, that’s him.” His bones were shattered, but I could spot a birthmark on his right cheek.

The funeral happened the week after. His colleagues and cousins came. They seemed to know nothing about what had happened between us. “Oh, you’re the daughter Shinyong talked about. He was really proud of you. You live in Seoul, right?” I never knew how to respond to all this nonsense. I wanted to grab them by the neck and ask, “What did he tell you? Why do you say he was proud of me? Back it up with some evidence, you son of a bitch.”

Regardless of my anger, the funeral was calm and quiet for three days. Most people came alone and left after finishing a bowl of yookgaejang. I prostrated when the guests bowed to me. Some older guests told me to stay by the altar, but I walked outside the building for a cigarette. My father liked being alone anyway.

Dad was smiling in his portrait. Some guests might have wondered why I chose a picture from fifteen years ago. Maybe they didn’t even notice the difference. I couldn’t tell if they had come to mourn or to celebrate his death. In the end, no one cried for his death but me.

Try your best to look like a white person. Thousands of world-class surgeons are waiting to work on your face. Pay them.

Speak like a white person. Let the poor kids study in Korean. Use English to rule over them. Make sure they can’t understand you.

Stand with white people. Smile. Take pictures with them. Show off to others. They are staring. You are in the pulpit.

Eat fire noodle and say it’s spicy. Cry and chug milk. Entertain them. Be a clown once in a while.

Look down. Tell them living in Korea is a blessing. Stand still. Teach them “It’s important to be yourself.”

“Congratulations, Minhoo Park—the son of Youngsoon Kim—for passing the bar examination,” the banner said. There was no family picture or colorful graphics on the banner. Just big words on a white background. The banner was wide enough to be read a hundred meters away.

The banner was made, but Youngsoon didn’t want others to think she was bragging. She only hoped a few neighbors would encounter the news so that the words could spread like a fresh rumor of an affair.

After scouting for about twenty minutes, Youngsoon decided to attach the banner next to the entrance of a small alley in front of her house. Only a handful of people walked through the path as it was a hidden shortcut to the town’s biggest marketplace.

Youngsoon took a picture of the banner while a young man finished the installation. “Is that rope tied properly? Before you go, make sure it’s not skewed,” she said. She would have to wait another two days to see her son standing in front of it.

“Unnie, now you can finally quit this job. What are you going to do next?” Younghee said. Younghee and Youngsoon worked together as janitors at the biggest meat factory in Korea. For twelve years, they sat next to each other for lunch.

Younghee and Youngsoon called these lunch breaks “psychotherapy sessions” because they nodded and empathized with all the worries and struggles of each other. Similar to therapy, the conversations—especially the ones with tears—were kept secret from the outside world.

“I don’t want to stop working. We all know staying home doing nothing is the real punishment. My son should live not worrying about an old mother,” Youngsoon said. She thought of Younghee’s family—an alcoholic husband and a 34-year-old son without a job—and said no more of her lawyer son.

“Younghee-ya, I’m not going anywhere. Don’t ever think of kicking me out of this job.” Youngsoon stood up and gently massaged Younghee’s shoulders. The 61-year-old hands still had a stronger grip than most teenagers in the country.

The hour-long “therapy” was over, and they both headed back to filling sausages. “One more day,” Youngsoon thought. Minhoo would come and see the banner.

After two or three blows to the head, the fish stopped flipping its tail. The owner tossed the fish into a burgundy plastic bucket. Standing across the alley, I noticed a line of fresh blood flowing along the fish’s body. When I was about to look away, the owner threw the cigarette from his mouth and carried the fish into the restaurant.

Now I was in the restaurant. The fish was about to be dissected into 52 pieces of thick sashimi. The restaurant was packed, and some of the tables already displayed a battalion of empty soju and makgeolli bottles. Most diners didn’t notice the dormant fish being prepared on a cutting board. They would meet its face when the owner placed boiling maeun-tang on their tables.

The next day, I watched the owner hammering another fish. My feet were possessed by fear and curiosity. I’m just doing my job, he would say. I was afraid the owner would scold me if I came any closer.

The fish with navy stripes was knocked out after taking a blow to its head. Grabbing the fish, the owner stabbed a sharp thread into its brain. When the fish fell into a coma, the owner untangled a hose and sprayed water on the concrete to ensure no blood was visible.

The owner took a cigarette from his front pocket and started smoking. He gazed in my direction, making eye contact with me. He probably thought I was being entertained, like a kid seeing a circus for the first time.

“Oh, that fish was strong,” an old man shouted as he pointed at the bucket. The owner bowed slightly and puffed the smoke into the air. He stubbed out the cigarette and rushed into the restaurant.

Over the glass windows, the owner wiped a sashimi knife with a fresh towel. I moved five steps closer to the fish tanks and prayed. The fish was being cut while the hammer leaned against the wall in front of me.

2,350 out of 2,400. I didn’t take my eyes off the paper. My hands were trembling, even though I had been expecting this day for months. What if someone found out? Standing alone in my room, I turned around to check if the door was open.

I took a picture of the score and sent it to my parents. Then, I pulled out my luggage from under the bed and shoved the papers inside. I went outside the dorm and walked, thinking about how I would tell others about the score.

I sat on a bench and turned on my phone, losing myself in the U.S. News College Rankings. I couldn’t decide what to feel—I was like a North Korean spy marveling at the enormous wealth of the enemy state. For hours, I stared at my phone, waiting for the message to show as “seen.”

“Yo, change of plans. I’m aiming for BU,” Yoonho said. Yoonho and I both grew up in Seoul but met at a boarding school in New Hampshire. We didn’t look alike at all—my eyes were twice as big, and he was 8 cm taller—but the teachers still called me Yoonho every other day. I didn’t mind being called the wrong name. They could’ve called me Jackie Chan if they wanted. My only hope was to disappear from that place in peace.

“Did you check the score yesterday?” Yoonho asked.
“I did. How did you do?”
“Under 2,000. I bet yours is like 2,100.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe? Did you get like 2,200 or something? Wait, are you serious? … How did you? Never mind. Dude, congrats.”

Yoonho read my face and realized I didn’t want to share the details. He had watched me struggle in “the under-2,000 Koreans club.” I could get above 2,000 on a lucky day, but above 2,300 was out of my league. He knew there was something suspicious about my gilded score. If he wanted, he could’ve questioned me until my mind cracked. But he stayed away from the truth. He didn’t even text me about it. At one point, I thought my parents had bribed him to stay quiet.

When my guidance counselor asked about my plans, I fidgeted like a freshman on the first day of school. I couldn’t figure out if my life was on the right track. Every night, I used a VPN to anonymously learn about the consequences of getting caught. There were news stories about students getting expelled and graduates losing their jobs. “The school MUST cancel his diploma,” one comment read. I re-read it as if it were meant for me.

Should I tell Yoonho about this? I thought it would be easier if I shared the truth with someone. He would understand. He had even met my parents once. I could convince him that I didn’t make the call. I was losing the one real friend I had made in school. I wished I could wake up and take one step out of the nest.

Six months later, I still wasn’t talking to Yoonho. In fact, I never discussed the score with anybody. When I got accepted to a school my parents were proud of, I acted like I made it happen. Most people didn’t care if the shy kid from Asia got into an Ivy League school. There was nothing surprising about it.

I couldn’t resist posting the acceptance letter on Instagram. “Thank you to everyone who’s supported me along the way. I’m excited to join my dream school,” the caption read. Then, I refreshed the app every three seconds. “Why didn’t you tell us? Congrats,” my cousin commented.

Suddenly, I realized bragging on the Internet wasn’t the best idea. Before deleting the post, I checked the notifications one last time and saw Yoonho’s username in the list. His latest picture was also an acceptance letter from BU.

“This country is fucked up,” Yoonjung said. Yoonjung was a colleague who joined our company a month after the country’s birth rate had fallen below 0.5. She was the youngest and the most capable on our team. Whenever we got lunch together, she liked to talk about the dire predicament ahead of us.

“I almost puked when the president said the country was ready to be the leader of AI, how the fuck are we going to be the ‘leader’ if we don’t even exist? Does he even know how to code ‘hello world’? How stupid can he be to neglect the poor people like me who have another 50 years in this shithole?”

I nodded to what she had to say. It was addicting to hear about the impending collapse of everything I’ve grown up with. We were like the kids pointing their fingers at a nuke approaching from above. We were fucked but still managed to utter “wow, that missile is fast.”

“I’m tired of seeing the same bullshit over and over again, Yoonjung said.”

The sound of cicadas blared outside the restaurant. We had to be back in the office in 15 minutes. I glanced at her cheeks, glistening with sweat from the heat of haejang-guk.

She was the most talented coder I had ever seen. I saw her rejecting calls from recruiters on a daily basis. She could definitely leave our company for at least twice the wage. Why is she staying with us? She could even work in the U.S. if she wanted to.

It was frustrating someone could be so talented yet uninterested in taking full advantage of the skills. Nowadays, so many Koreans, especially in their 20s and 30s, were thinking about emigrating. Universities had long since turned into pre-immigration training camps. Almost no one studied the humanities because countries like Australia and the U.S. preferred engineering and medical degrees.

No matter what the government said, the exodus had already begun. Ambition now meant the courage to abandon and leave.

“Yoonjung-nim, why don’t you consider immigration? I mean, people like you should be racing to the airport. You’ll be welcomed everywhere.”

Yoonjung paused for about 10 seconds. Then she started spouting all the nonsense excuses.

“Leaving is a last resort. I don’t have any assets related to Korea, so I’ll be fine even if the dark age comes. I even hoarded canned soups and veggies just in case this society falls apart,” She said.

I was shocked. She was afraid to step out of her comfort zone. I wanted to put my hand on her shoulder and say, “come on, you’re making a deadly mistake.” But I could only mutter “Huh” and “Okay” at someone who owned everything I wished for.

We checked our phones. Rumors circulated the government would soon declare a state of emergency and ban traveling abroad. “Everything is under control,” the spokesman would repeat, frowning like there’s nothing to worry about.

I didn’t know what to say anymore. I was stuck while she chose to stay.

“Come on, man, get your shit together,” Joonho told himself. No one was around him, but he felt like a million people were watching over him. His brain had become a gold mine, potentially large enough to reshape the global economy.

Joonho was anxious to be among the first disciples of a revolution. His hands were trembling. He had never been called “outstanding” in 45 years. His God had finally gifted him the chance to reverse his life. This day could be preserved in scriptures.

He took a piece of paper from his desk and wrote the word “FOCUS.” The nanobot could stay powered for a year. Nothing mattered more than the opportunity right in front of him. He needed to concentrate and climb the fastest path to mastery.

He desired pure, undiluted energy from his brain to fuel the bot. Joonho thought of the time when he and his parents watched a giant rocket launching through the atmosphere. Until the rocket vanished into the universe, his eyes were fixed on the engine fuming fire. Then Joonho realized he had to get rid of everything that was blocking the way to his “enlightenment.”

“Unload and unlearn. Forget about the past for your new journey.” He had heard of this idea at the church the other day. Any distractions could muddle his connection with the bot. He had to throw away all the junk he had never used—TV, couch, cups. So many goddamn cups. All this trash had to be thrown out of his sight.

He stacked all the junk at the front door. His room was almost empty, just a wooden stool and desk. He lay down and gazed at the ceiling. Like the monks who stayed silent for years, Joonho was determined to never speak a word.

The room was dark, damp, and moldy. In sweat, Joonho sat down on the stool and closed his eyes. There was no sound but vibrations. He stared at the imaginary fireworks in front of him. Five minutes later, he was immersed in silence and darkness. A warm breath came out naturally. Then he began to hear hundreds of voices piling on top of each other. He could not discern any words but was able to hear the noise for 15 minutes.

For two weeks, Joonho practiced meditation to declutter his mind. To him, meditation meant transforming into a machine designed to serve a single purpose. Like before downloading a large app on his computer, he wanted to delete enough space in his head. That was the way to be upgraded.

Joonho didn’t speak. He didn’t even check online whether someone was outperforming him. He remained calm. He left the room only when he had to use the bathroom or fetch deliveries.

In love with solitude, he no longer felt the stress to conform to the larger community. He was happier than ever. He stopped reporting to the company and even let go of the yearning to harness the bot. The voices sounded like birds chirping in a rainy forest. He replied to some of these sounds, but it was impossible to fully understand the words coming from afar.

Joonho was grateful for the peace—the feeling that he had completely forgotten about. Everything around him was in harmony. This is it. He was meant to be here.

To be is to be related.

I just published (A Bit Serious) Question Generator, a simple tool to help you have deep conversations with your loved ones.

I also translated (A Bit Serious) Parent Interview into English. This tool helps you learn more about your parent(s).

Let me know if you would like to add a question to the database. I would love to hear if these mini tools helped you in any way.

In 2023, around 23 million Koreans traveled abroad. Today, TV ads and variety shows constantly tempt us to leave for unfamiliar places. For 300,000 won, you can get a round-trip ticket from Korea to Japan or Taiwan. Thanks to companies like Travel Wallet, you don’t even have to pay exchange fees and sometimes get bonus cashback for overseas purchases.

Scrolling through photos of people traveling abroad, I wondered: Is traveling the highest form of entertainment? Can we find happiness without leaving? What if we could find joy by settling in one place? Instead of seeking new places, maybe we need to look deeper into the society we live in now. How we interpret present moments can often change our lives for the better.

Sometimes it feels like leaving our current environment will solve all our problems. When someone asks me about my “next travel,” I feel pressured to say how bad my current life is. Similarly, when my dad passed away, some people advised my mom to sell the house and move to a smaller one. They thought leaving would help her overcome the grief. But my mom said she couldn’t discard the memories in that house. Now, I deeply appreciate her decision. When I go home, I find comfort in my dad’s traces in every corner.

Take a moment to understand the place we live as our hometown. Explore it with love instead of just using GPS to get around. Stay in one place, fully accepting all its experiences, and plant deep roots. This could be the true joy of life. Discovering new perspectives in familiar places and finding special moments in daily life. This could be the real adventure we’ve been waiting for.

Investing time to connect with the community around us brings happiness. Today, I joined the “Let’s Read Old Books Together” meeting in the city. It reminded me that I must actively seek out good people. When we feel connected to those who genuinely want to help others, life becomes richer instantly. Five years ago, at my apartment complex in Seoul, the elevators were almost always silent. I could not bear the lack of greetings. “Hello, have a good day, how have you been?” I missed these simple greetings. Life always felt empty in the elevators.

I want to accept the limits of our life radius. I want to find freedom by grounding my mind in one place. The joy of travel is wonderful, but so is the joy of settling. I hope to build a life by facing it, not escaping; observing the surroundings and finding newness on familiar paths.

This essay is not about forced positivity. I’m not arguing for ignoring all the negative aspects of our society. If we can bring change to our community, even better. We can pursue growth while taking time to stop and gaze at flowers and birds.

I Want to Live in the Present

After wondering where to live, I concluded, “Let’s try to live in the present.” I’ve lived in Jeju for three years, but I still can’t get around the island without GPS. Instead of feeling frustrated with the things I dislike, I want to look at Jeju with more intent. There are still so many people I haven’t met and forests and beaches I haven’t explored.

How do you find joy in your current life? I’m curious. 👀

History

• In 2020, started blogging with WordPress hosted on Bluehost.
• Looked for a cheaper, lighter option.
• Found Ghost and subscribed to Ghost Pro, trying minimal themes.
• Discovered Bear Blog and became fascinated with static websites.
• Learned how to deploy websites with Hugo and Netlify.
• Tried several Hugo themes such as No Style Please and Bear Cub.
• Designed a new theme called Kang.

I’ve spent hundreds of hours designing this blog. It’s my best attempt to represent my soul. After I die, this project will still float in the vast space of the Internet.

Text matters most on this website. I wanted to ensure no visitor felt the need to turn on reader mode. I experimented with various background colors, font colors, content width, navigation menus, and font sizes to embody my love for the books like these.

Scrolling on my blog is designed to feel like flipping through old paperbacks written with a typewriter. That’s why I purchased a font that pays homage to one of the first commercially made Korean-English typewriters called Clover, manufactured in 1978.

I used Hugo to turn markdown files into a static website, Netlify for hosting, and Riku to collect HTML responses. I also used Font Face Observer for fast font loading, Pagefind for search functionality, and Buttondown for collecting emails.

Websites like budding.computer, elliott.computer, sive.rs, lente.dev, and gkeenan.co inspired me to value functionality, aesthetics, and privacy. These sites provide an oasis on today’s enshittified, big-tech-dominant web. I’m proud to be part of the gang of independent creators.

If you’d like, you can check out the source code of this website.

When thinking about where to live, I often ponder, “What am I living for?” The instinctive answer is happiness. What is happiness? If happiness is the goal, why not move to the happiest country?

Then I checked the UN’s “World Happiness Report.” Denmark consistently ranks 1st or 2nd. Korea, however, is 57th. What’s their secret? Are Danes really happier than us? Would living in Copenhagen improve the quality of my life? Is there any way I could live like a Dane in Jeju?

Trust – High Taxes, High Trust

Denmark has a high average income tax of 45% and a 25% VAT. In Korea, the income tax is about 24% for median income. After paying these high taxes, Danes receive extensive benefits: free education from kindergarten to university, 52 weeks of parental leave, childcare subsidies, national health insurance, pensions, and housing support.

Danish citizens’ trust in their government is remarkable. For 30 years, Denmark has topped the Corruption Perceptions Index. The government, judiciary, and military all enjoy broad public trust. Imagine believing your government is corruption-free. Growing up in a country where bribery and corruption scandals are the norm, this is hard to fathom.

If trust is a key to happiness, I also want to put faith in my government. I want to feel like my vote matters and our representatives genuinely prioritize moral values.

Altruism – Neighbors Are Not Competitors

In Korea, endless competition is pervasive: humanities vs. vocational schools, universities in Seoul vs. regional ones, large corporations vs. SMEs. The pressure to score higher, earn more certificates, and make more money is intense. It’s hard to be altruistic in a society where material wealth is the highest value.

In contrast, Danish public education values equal opportunity, free expression, and individual creativity. Though private education exists, most students don’t see the need for it. After finishing their education, Danes enjoy a minimum of 5 weeks of paid vacation annually, plus additional leave for personal events, illness, and parenting. By law, they can even take at least 3 weeks off consecutively in the summer.

Happiness comes from stability, not achievement. Living in Denmark wouldn’t guarantee a trouble-free life, but believing in a future with excellent welfare, equal education, and enough rest might make people happier.

Personal Changes

I’m not considering moving to Denmark. However, there are lessons to learn from a country with the world’s highest life satisfaction. While this essay covers trust and altruism, other factors like inclusiveness, green spaces, and efficient public transport also contribute to Danish happiness.

How can I apply these lessons? Blind trust in the government isn’t realistic, but I can advocate for moral responsibility in public service. I can’t force altruism on others, but I can start by volunteering at local charities. I can’t convince everyone that money and fame aren’t everything, but I can prioritize rest over productivity for myself. While I can’t make the entire nation happy, I can help those around me smile more. I can create a small, Danish-like oasis around me.

Have You Been to Denmark?

I haven’t been to Denmark myself. But curious about why it’s called one of the happiest countries, I spent several days reading articles and watching videos. One interesting thing I learned is that among political scientists, the phrase “be like Denmark” has become a catchphrase. Denmark’s political and social welfare structures are often used as models.

I also looked for complaints from Danes. Most of them were about the gloomy weather, with many cloudy days and little sunlight except in summer. Apparently, when the sun does come out, everyone becomes so happy they all go outside. For someone who hasn’t experienced it, this doesn’t sound so bad.

When the wind blows through the window
When the music blasts from the speaker
When the cats rest on the desk

I feel you are here
Watching over me
Thinking I am living your life

When the doctor injected the nano-bot into his brain, Joonho flinched as if dodging a flying pigeon.

Joonho took a cab and stared at the 12-inch screen on the back of the front seat. Stuffy air filled the car. There was no sound, but he could hear murmurs being transmitted from the device. “THE WORLD … CHANGED.” The ad wasn’t lying about that. From holding robots to becoming robots, humans were spiraling into a new era.

Joonho had never been an early adopter of technology. He liked to code quirky websites for fun but never considered himself a programmer. When he signed up to be one of a hundred beta testers, his co-workers worried their colleague was risking his life for a billionaire’s pet project. “This could be bigger than the moon landing,” Joonho said. For him, the nano-bot injection was a chance to escape his corporate job. His world was burning, and the surgery was a lottery ticket to Mars.

The cab slowed as it approached a red light. Joonho felt a light headache. As soon as the bot was inserted, his brain began to function as a messenger app. In theory, he no longer had to speak out loud to communicate. He could “speak” in his mind to deliver messages to other computers. His thoughts didn’t have to be polished either. Before confirming a message, the software transformed the words into articulate sentences.

The cab dropped Joonho off at a 30-year-old brick apartment. He ran up to the third floor and looked around just in case some journalists had followed him.

The beta testing was completely free under one condition. For a year, every participant had to report daily about their status. Joonho checked in with the company as soon as he entered his room. He only needed to answer “yes” or “no” to questions like “Do you think you’re utilizing 100% of the nano-bot?” The company already knew—from numerous experiments with chimps—that some testers would outperform others by 10 or possibly 100 times.

Most hackers on the Internet were sure about one thing: “Thinking” was about to become the most valuable skill in the world. Many testers were already gaining massive popularity online, and some of them shared their bots’ messenger IDs to maximize the pool of data to play with. Joonho thought joining an open competition was a mistake. A lot of noise wouldn’t help him control his semi-robotic brain. He wanted to set up a temple in his room. He needed a quiet environment to truly understand his consciousness.

From what he had learned from Internet forums, Joonho wrote down three stages to becoming fluent in the nano-bot.

1. You can receive messages from other bots.
2. You can send messages without any mistakes.
3. You can communicate with AI bots to handle complex tasks.

He thought reaching step 3 would grant him unprecedented power. If he could communicate with AI at the speed of thought, he could research, experiment, invest, engineer, and design faster than any human in the world. He would become humanity’s mastermind to solve the universe’s mysteries. He would be considered a god.

Born in Jeonju, I’ve wandered through Haian, Shanghai, Harbin, State College, Boston, Saint Paul, Seoul, and Jeju. One would think I’d want to settle down by now, but I often feel a pull to find a place that suits me better.

When moving from Seoul to Jeju, I thought it didn’t matter where I lived as long as I had the internet. For someone who studies, creates, and spends leisure time online, what difference does it make if I’m in Gangnam or Ido-dong? But the longer I live in Jeju, running my tiny content company, the more I wonder. Where should I live? Can I find an environment that fits my lifestyle?

Before tackling the big question of “Where should I live?” I want to list the features of my ideal city (knowing that a perfect environment meeting all these criteria doesn’t exist).

Safety

When I was in high school near Boston, I sometimes took a 90-minute bus ride into the city on weekends. One day, I was considering booking an appointment at a Japanese hair salon in Boston.

My housemate said, “Isn’t today the Boston Marathon? Traffic will be terrible.”

“Oh, right.”

As I stayed in and watched my laptop, news broke of a bomb exploding at the marathon. I was shocked. I turned on the TV and saw military helicopters and messages advising everyone to stay indoors. What if the bomber was hiding nearby? I stared at the screen, terrified.

Living in the U.S., I realized the importance of safety many times. Once, a knife-wielding robber swept through a store in New York as I was buying a phone. Another time, I got an alert about a shooting near my college campus.

No place is 100% safe, but I want to live without fear. A neighborhood isn’t livable if you hear gunshots outside.

Pedestrian and Bicycle-Friendly

Reading Jane Jacobs’ The Death and Life of Great American Cities, I understood U.S. urban design deeply. To summarize its ideas: In a car-centric society, the wealthy move to the suburbs and commute to downtown. ➙ Cities expand endlessly. ➙ Traffic worsens, so sidewalks are removed to widen roads. ➙ With reduced population density, living without a car becomes impossible. ➙ Downtown becomes desolate at night, and those who can’t afford cars suffer greatly.

I dislike cities where there are more cars than people. Walking in Jeju City, surrounded by cars on streets without sidewalks, reminds me of Jacobs’ teachings. My wife and I used to bike everywhere but gave up and got a car. How can you bike without bike lanes? On sidewalks, we were a nuisance; on roads, we were constantly honked at. Biking meant choosing between these two terrible options.

Nothing frustrates me more than being surrounded by cars. Once, after signaling and ensuring enough space, I changed lanes. A man pulled up beside us, rolled down his window, and yelled, “Hey! Roll down your window, you fucking asshole!” “Just ignore him,” I told my wife as we turned. It left me feeling very down. What made him so angry? Would he have cursed at my face if I had rolled down my window?

I still try to walk or take the bus, but living in a car-dependent area feels stifling. Watching politicians campaign to cars, not people, during the elections made me feel bitter. Living in Jeju might seem like living amid green nature, but the reality is a car-dominated hell. I long to live in a city where walking or biking makes sense.

Parks and Lawns

Reading that “Cafes serve as parks for Koreans living in cities without resting places,” I nodded in agreement. How nice would it be to have parks and lawns nearby for a relaxing walk? Though there are a few playgrounds near my home, they’re essentially for kids.

I loved walking along Gyeongchun Line Forest Park when I lived in Gongneung-dong, Seoul. Especially during busy evenings, stepping outside felt like meeting the whole neighborhood. The forest path had no franchises; all cafes, waffle shops, and doughnut places were small and unique. I sometimes miss the sense of stability I felt there. I want to live somewhere I can walk endlessly or lie on the grass looking at the sky without driving far.

Hospitals

While studying in Boston, my wisdom tooth decayed so badly my gums turned black. In pain, I finally booked an appointment with a Korean dentist. Desperate, I waited over a week for my visit. The dentist quickly checked my mouth and gave me two options:

1. Get the tooth pulled and treated now. It would cost about $2,000 without insurance.
2. Take antibiotics and wait until I returned to Korea, where it would cost less than 10% of that.

I chose the antibiotics and got all treatment in Korea two months later for just 30,000 won. That’s when I began to appreciate health insurance. Many in Jeju travel to Seoul for medical care, often due to low trust in local hospitals like Jeju National University Hospital. While I hope to stay healthy, I don’t want to fly to hospitals for check-ups or surgeries. It doesn’t have to be right next door; a 1-2 hour train ride would be fine.

Culture

“Where do you want to live?” is similar to “Who do you want to live with?” You can’t talk about desirable places without mentioning culture. Some Korean friends moved to Canada or the U.S. saying they disliked Korean culture. Some were tired of a society dividing people by age, education, and neighborhoods; others wanted to escape a culture that dismisses and ostracizes those with different identities or values. While no place is perfectly rational and equal, these complaints are somewhat relatable.

I sometimes miss the U.S. because of the people. Four years after marrying, I visited and was surprised again by Americans who smiled when making eye contact (though generalizing about such a large country is impossible). Drivers who smiled and let you go first, neighbors who greeted you during walks, and people who apologized with “excuse me” for the slightest bump. These moments felt healing.

In contrast, seeing men urinating on the street, motorcycles blaring music, posters plastered everywhere, drunken people sprawled out, and people spitting made me feel suffocated. I want to live in a kind society where respect and consideration for neighbors come naturally.

In recent months, I’ve faced many fears. At a recent event, “Second Hand Books Station,” my partner and I reintroduced vegan sandwiches after a long time. Despite preparing all the ingredients beforehand, I had a sleepless night before the event. I was anxious about ruining the food and disappointing our customers. Why was I so scared of something I’d been making for a year and a half before closing my restaurant? Even small actions make me overthink sometimes.

This overthinking brings me to the theme of this letter. Like the saying that a motto is actually a pledge to remember what you’re not good at, I thought of the question, “Where does courage for challenges come from?” Not because I’m a master of challenges, but because I easily get intimidated by unfamiliar tasks. I envy those who stay composed in uncertain situations. I want to move forward with a light heart like them. To me, those who don’t feel anxious in unfamiliar situations are the most courageous people.

Reflecting on my past challenges, I realized I was always trembling with fear. In other words, I had the courage to throw myself into unknown situations despite the fear. Tasks that felt comfortable didn’t remain as challenges in my memory, no matter how difficult or successful they were.

Just as getting hit multiple times doesn’t stop it from hurting, summoning courage for challenges is always hard. Yet, some people decide to step into the ring, knowing it will hurt. They choose to take uncertain steps, even if change doesn’t feel entirely pleasant. These people make decisions as if they’ve never felt fear. They know how to handle their choices.

True courage isn’t a shield that protects us from anxiety in unfamiliar situations but the willingness to be committed to decisions despite knowing they’ll cause fear and anxiety. Because there are far more unknowns than knowns, we often become scared beginners. So, we must welcome the chances to be beginners again.

Of course, I’m still scared of what’s coming. I worry if I’ll do well and fear my efforts will go unnoticed. If someone like me tries to handle everything, I might get exhausted drifting between ideals and reality. So, I aspire to become someone who decides to act. Even at ninety, I want to be more excited than afraid of an unknown fruit, to walk a new path home, and to be okay with being a fool in front of new gadgets. I promise. I won’t stop practicing the mindset of becoming a beginner.

If I were to write a new resume with “challenge” and “courage” as the criteria, the first line would boldly state: Founded the restaurant Cheesylazy. It was a reckless challenge for me and my partner. Since we had no experience, the long preparation period needed to open the restaurant really tested our courage.

From graduating high school until I left my second job, I had never taken a break. My work and life revolved around short-term goals, each with a deadline. But opening a restaurant was an exception. I didn’t want to rush and present anything less than our best to the world. With a mindset of honing and polishing until I was satisfied, a year flew by. The time spent developing the menu and studying restaurant entrepreneurship was both challenging and a seemingly endless marathon.

Where did I find the courage to endure that time? Looking back, I’m genuinely curious. But the source of courage is often hiding in plain sight. For me, it was no different. Without my partner, husband, and best friend, Kang, I couldn’t have endured that uncertain period.

Some say that marriage makes you avoid risky choices due to added responsibility. But for me, it was the exact opposite. Kang brings out the truest version of myself. How much I earn in a month, what title I hold at which company—none of that mattered to Kang from the beginning. Kang listened to the voice of my heart, which even I had been ignoring. And of course, he treated himself the same way. If it wasn’t from his heart, he wouldn’t do it. His uncompromising personality slowly influenced me. Watching Kang, I thought, “I, too, can afford to be more reckless.”

Was Kang the only one like this? Fortunately, many people around me strive to understand the core of their hearts. For some, a hefty bank balance, financial support from parents, or a flawless career path might bring peace of mind. But in my case, the more people around me who truly understood me, the more I wanted to live recklessly in the way I believed was right.

The belief that I don’t need to persuade anyone. The attitude that it’s okay to live as myself. These feelings imprinted a sense of safety in my body and mind. If we look at reality alone, my future is more uncertain than ever. But I now feel a deeper sense of stability than ever, something that academic degrees, stable companies, or impressive titles could never guarantee.

I now strive not to judge the choices of those close to me. Sure, on some days, I think, “Isn’t that a bit inefficient? This way might be better,” or “Is that really the best choice?” But I suppress these thoughts and offer only genuine support. From experience, I know that some people, despite having full support from those around them, lose the fight with themselves and give up taking a step forward. In uncertain situations, even one lukewarm response can cause a person’s resolve to crumble.

We all struggle in our own ways to make better decisions, handle moments of choice, and endure anxiety. If I have a responsibility to the person I love, it’s not to impose my thoughts as the “right” way, but to stand as solid support so they can stay true to themselves.

A Collection of Bold Challenges

Happily Becoming a Fool

In 2016, during my senior year of college, an interesting project appeared in my department’s Facebook group. It was a hackathon where I’d team up with exchange students from France and Germany to create a simple game in three days. As someone captivated by game development through consecutive semesters of related courses, I knew I had to be part of the event. But there was one problem: I had severe English anxiety. This hesitation lasted until the application deadline.

I thought sending the application would bring relief, but instead, my worries intensified. I had nightmares about being mocked for my poor English. During the day, I debated calling the department office to cancel my application. Then I convinced myself, “Let’s just be a fool for three days. What’s the big deal?” With this mindset, I joined the program.

Handling everything in English was harder than I imagined. I didn’t understand half of what my friends said and sometimes lacked the courage to ask for clarification. But no major issues arose. No one made fun of me for struggling with English. Most importantly, I realized that being a fool wasn’t as shameful as I had feared.

Quitting a Job After Two Weeks

In the summer of 2017, after the job-hunting period, I started working on a large corporation’s new business team. The team’s culture and tasks were far from what I had envisioned. Each day of forced attendance felt like a waste of time. I began to regret not applying to a different company I had considered months earlier. It was a startup in my favorite field, but I didn’t apply because the company seemed too nascent.

I visited their website and realized I could still submit my resume and portfolio. However, I thought of my parents’ joy when they heard I got the job. None of my college friends had taken paths other than large corporations, media companies, law school, civil service exams, or graduate school. “Am I the only one straying from the norm? What if I regret leaving this company after all the hard work to get here?”

After several sleepless nights, I emailed the small company. Eventually, the startup marked the beginning of my career. Despite having only three colleagues, an uncertain future, and a low salary, I felt a sense of fulfillment from making a choice that suited me.

Lessons from Compiling My Bold Challenges

Looking back at my past through the lens of “courage” was a first for me. The experiences I gathered don’t typically come up when I introduce myself, so they felt unfamiliar. However, I realized this collection of somewhat awkward and foolish challenges might show my true self better than a resume.

Many memories came flooding back beyond the two written here. It seems I fear: 1. exposing my vulnerabilities, 2. straying from the expected path, and 3. facing uncontrollable uncertainties. Many people have likely stood at the crossroads of “Should I or shouldn’t I” for similar reasons. So, what decision makes a person courageous? What was the right choice for me?

Honestly, it wouldn’t have mattered what decision I made. Whether my 24-year-old self backed out of the program due to English anxiety or my 25-year-old self stuck with the big company, the effort I put into moving forward despite my fears would remain the same. It wasn’t the decisions themselves but the struggle between fear and courage that transformed me.

So, it’s okay if you choose to stick to the familiar path after much deliberation. Even if the result of your courage seems trivial or doesn’t meet societal standards, it’s fine. Facing your fears and making decisions without avoiding them is already brave. Even if it doesn’t lead to visible changes or significant achievements, I call the inner battle with fear and anxiety a “challenge.”

In Korea, citizens become hopeful when new politicians get elected. Like watching Korea vs. Brazil in the World Cup, most know there’s no chance of winning, but they still hope for a miracle. The same disappointment happens in politics. People get excited when politicians make rosy promises but get disappointed when they spend all their energy crushing others by any means necessary.

I haven’t seen a politician devoted to solving problems. Maybe the ones doing their jobs aren’t on the news. The quiet ones get forgotten, while the rowdy ones get remembered for the next election. In the end, citizens crave more content, not improvements.

Few believe officials, especially the president, are telling the truth. News has become entertainment. People prefer hearing about gossip and messiahs over multifaceted explanations.

Elections occur, but the candidates are almost always old men who don’t even know how to code “Hello World.” Korean students endure brutal exams for a chance to study in Seoul, but politicians aren’t tested for their suitability to lead the nation. I have nothing to say if some kid asks if there is anything to learn from our presidents. I can only say they are the most hated in the country.

We deserve better, but some kind of magic fools us again. We repeatedly elect another corrupt and egotistical maniac. Again, I dream of voting for leaders who understand their roles as uplifting others and serving the community.

The last week of running our restaurant, Cheesylazy, was one of the most intense moments of my life. I fondly remember the farewells with customers, but one conversation stands out. A customer said, “You are really brave.” It was encouragement from a regular who had read our announcement that we were closing the restaurant to start a publishing company.

I was grateful that someone who had watched our restaurant grow understood and supported our choice. However, I couldn’t react properly. Despite my 18 months of experience serving customers, I was still clumsy and terrified of the future. The word ‘brave’ felt very unfamiliar to me.

Up until three days before we announced the closure, I would wake up in the morning, terrified of what lay ahead, and cry. Even after naps, delicious food, and talking with my spouse, my anxiety didn’t subside. One day, two days, and three days. The persistent anxiety and depression felt new and alarming.

While writing this, I pulled out a note I wrote back then to organize my thoughts. It was a Q&A to comfort myself, titled ‘Why My Mind is Dizzy Right Now.’

Why My Mind is Dizzy Right Now

1. Am I afraid I won’t do well?
2. Am I sad to leave Cheesylazy?
3. Do I not know what to do right now?
4. Do I not know how to explain what I need to do next?
5. Does no one understand my worries and pain?

As I sobbed and wrote the note, I clearly saw the fear rooted deep inside me. At the same time, I realized how much I loved Cheesylazy. I wondered if it was okay to quit something I loved so much. Even while replying to messages from customers who saw the closure notice, I feared I might regret this decision one day. When one customer held my hand tightly and tearfully expressed her sadness, I even felt certain I was making the wrong decision. I secretly imagined taking back the closure notice, thinking, ‘Wouldn’t it be ridiculous if I said it was just a joke?’

My dictionary defines courage as ‘a fearless spirit.’ The spirit here must also be ‘vigorous and resolute.’ Was my decision wrong? Could I take responsibility for the uncertainties ahead? At that time, I was clearly terrified and neither vigorous nor resolute. The word ‘brave’ felt like an embarrassing compliment. I often reflected on the customer’s words that were neither swallowed with thanks nor denied.

Is it possible to make a courageous decision without courage? It might sound like wordplay, but that’s how I was back then. Shaking like a person without a shred of courage, yet making a brave decision. Was I a brave person for that? Or was I not brave because I was scared even after making the necessary decision? What is courage? Where does the courage to take on challenges come from? Will I still be a brave person, taking on challenges, even at eighty?

One interesting fact is that the ‘future’ I was so afraid of is now my ‘reality.’ I quickly adapted to my new work, and I’ve been so busy that I hardly have time to think about uncertainties or regrets. Though I was terrified just four months ago, it feels like a distant past.

Like a student reluctantly elected as class president but ends up fulfilling the role well by the end of the semester, sticking to brave choices seems to have made me somewhat braver. In hindsight, there’s not much courage can do for someone so brave that they handle everything effortlessly. The true power of courage might be a privilege enjoyed only by those who can make brave decisions despite lacking courage.

Two years ago, when Hoon left Seoul for high school in Pittsburgh, he was told to never come back unless he could speak English fluently. No one knew how to test “fluent English,” but Hoon understood the weight on his shoulders. His parents had borrowed money from a bunch of family members so that he could yuhak in the United States.

A day after his arrival, Hoon joined a big family lunch in a Chinese restaurant. “They are so curious about your time in America,” Hoon’s parents said. Hoon knew he was expected to express gratitude to his uncles and aunts. Hoon could never leave Korea unless the family pitched in. His yuhak was a family business. The time has come to report his earnings to those shareholders.

“Can you speak like an American?” Uncle Cho said.

“No, Samchon. Learning a language is not that easy."

“You are too humble. You spent two years in America. I bet you speak way better than my kids. I’ve paid at least 500,000 won every month for their tutors, and the kids still can’t even introduce themselves in English. Hoon-a, one must leave this country to learn real English. Thank your parents. You really are the lucky one."

“I’m grateful,” Hoon nodded like a fat pigeon.

The restaurant stayed silent for a moment. No one asked the boy’s struggle in another country. He stared at the closest window as if he could fly out of the room filled with ignorance and lies.

“Welcome back home,” someone in the room said. Waking up from daydreaming, Hoon turned to say thanks.

Reason for Writing this Letter

Hello Kang, it’s Ko. It’s been a long time since I’ve written a letter on a day that isn’t a birthday or anniversary. Honestly, I can hardly remember the last time I wrote a letter after getting married… Hehe.

This is a letter of reconciliation that I’m sending to you. As you know, when I get angry, I can’t control myself and I end up saying hurtful things. Even after we reconcile and things get better between us, I find myself dwelling on those moments of conflict. The angry tone of my voice, the selfishness in choosing words that I knew would hurt you. Each time, I end up hating myself and worrying that I cannot grow as a person.

I want to ask for your help. Help me to manage my anger better, to share good feelings with you going forward. That’s why I’m writing this letter of reconciliation today.

It’s More Than Who Is Right or Wrong

There’s something more important than figuring out who was right or wrong. This letter is about resolving negative feelings and building a positive relationship. It’s about committing to care for each other’s hearts and actually finding ways to do so. Protecting our relationship is all that really matters to me, and I want to make that clear to you.

Praise, Gratitude, Respect

We haven’t fought recently and our relationship is stable. It might seem strange to write a letter of reconciliation when there’s nothing to apologize for. But that’s exactly why I thought now was the right time. When there’s no one seeking forgiveness, we can talk on equal footing. I wanted to focus on communication, not apologies, and I hoped this letter of reconciliation would be a good starting point.

“Nothing is impossible when the door of communication is open,” as Thich Nhat Hanh says. How can I open your heart then? I thought about the words I hoped to hear from you — the words that signify praise, gratitude, and respect.

As I listed all of your praises, your traits I’ve always wanted to emulate, and the coolness you possess that I lack, I realized why it hurts so much to argue with you. It’s because I’m afraid of losing someone as precious as you. Just writing down how much I love and respect you made me instantly happier.

When I’m Angry

Why did I act that way towards someone as precious as you? I regretted the words too easily after saying them.

Looking back, I always thought there was a logical reason for my anger. I believed I had the right to be angry, and I thought you should apologize first. Seeing you unaware of my frustration made me even angrier. Can you see how narrow-minded I can become when I’m angry?*

I chose to write a letter because I thought it was necessary to carefully convey my views before having a real-time conversation. Instead of guessing what’s on your mind, I wanted to focus on organizing my thoughts. I felt it was more appropriate to share how I felt instead of pointing out the actions of yours that upset me.

As I tried to objectively reflect on myself, I wrote in detail what happened inside me when I got angry. Just as I can’t immediately understand your actions and words during a fight, the same must be true for you. If we ever face a situation where we’re both upset, I want you to know it’s never because I despise you.

Promises and Asking for Help

I decided not to take the easy way out with a vague promise of mutual forgiveness. I dislike the idea of shamelessly asking you to just understand my feelings. What I need is not just a promise, but real guidelines for practical actions. To convey my strong desire to change, I needed to be specific and clear about what I’m asking for.

I’ll try not to lash out with expressions like ‘You are annoying’ or ‘You piss me off’. Lightening my words seems to help dissipate the anger more quickly. So, I thought about using ‘I feel neglected’. Doesn’t that sound better? From now on, if I say ‘I feel neglected’, please try to understand why I feel that way. Just doing that will make me feel a lot better.

It seems there’s a law of conservation of anger. If I keep suppressing it, it will eventually explode. Instead of holding it in until a big fight, what if we let it loose little by little? Smaller bouts of anger are easier to handle. If it seems like I’m getting angry over trivial things, maybe I’m trying hard not to turn this moment into a big fight. I’ll try to calm my anger this way.

Reply I Want to Hear

In a previous letter, I wrote that we should be able to openly discuss our strategies to handle heated arguments. Fighting isn’t a solo act. So, you and I both need to be in the same boat. This letter of reconciliation is just a starting point. If you, like me, decide to write a letter of reconciliation, you should be able to ask for a reply. Act boldly. Ask for a chance to enlighten each other.

*I’m curious if you are willing to join the promise of reconciliation. I want to hear about what goes on inside your mind when you’re angry, and if there’s anything unsaid about our past fights.

If it’s okay, could you write me a reply? We can also reserve a time to talk about this. Either way, I’ll always be waiting to hear your story.*

Let’s Write a Letter of Reconciliation

‘I don’t want to be angry with you, my love. So please help me!’ Maybe conveying this simple message is all there is to reconciliation. If the other person truly cares, they’ll take your hand and start listening. Even if you’re ignored, or if you can’t deliver the letter, that’s okay. When writing this letter of reconciliation, you may notice the knots of anger loosen a bit. Forgiving and reconciling with yourself is more important than the other one’s acknowledgement. In that sense, I’ve already achieved my goal.

In South Korea, most bloggers use Naver Blog to publish their writings.¹ The indie blogging culture is almost nonexistant. If you say “I blog” in this country, most people would assume you are writing on Naver Blog.

Although Naver Blog is infamous for its overwhelming amount of bot-generated-crappy-sponsored-SEO content, most writers still stay on Naver Blog because they simply are not aware of another option. Naver also makes sure only the content stamped “Naver” rank high in its search results. So for Korean bloggers, migrating to another platform or publishing on a custom domain could lead to giving up a shit ton of traffic.

I wanted to challenge this Naver-ruled bloggging landscape. I’m no web developer, but I could explain how to buy a domain, choose a platform, write in Markdown, and use an RSS feed reader. Some of my friends had asked me to teach them how to start a blog like mine, so I knew there was a demand for my skills. I had alreay spent hundreds of hours building and polishing my blog, so I felt confident to prepare for a personal blogging workshop. I was excited to build a new community of writers.

The First Workshop

I’ve hosted three “Let’s Start a Personal Blog” workshops in my office this year. The first workshop was in January. There were seven people, including me, and I taught how to purchase a domain, create a blog, and write in Markdown all within two hours.

No need to open a code editor or terminal. I tried to make the first workshop as easygoing as possible without the need for any programming knowledge. The workshop was about online writing, not web development.

Here’s how the workshop went:

1. Talked about what developers care about when building “a perfect website”. I showed Motherfucking Website series like this one, this one, and this one.
2. Bought domains on Porkbun.
3. Signed up for accounts on Mataroa.
4. Connected custom domains on Mataroa and practiced how to publish posts and pages, manage images, and use a feature like theme, newsletter, and comment.
5. Practiced how to write in Markdown. Introduced Markdown editors like MarkEdit and MarkText.
6. Subscribed to each other’s blog using a RSS feed reader like Mire, Collie, NetNewsWire, and CommaFeed. I intentionally introduced free & minimal feed readers.

The Second Workshop

The second workshop happened a month after the first one. I had to make a few changes to improve our meeting:

1. Two hours was not enough to talk about everything I knew about personal blogging. In addition, the participants wanted to have a longer chat with each other. I couldn’t provide enough time to discuss each other’s domain name and writing topics. To make sure there’s enough time to share knowledge and network with fellow bloggers, I extended the workshop to two separate meetings. Once a week, six people met in the office for two hours.
2. All members of the first workshop were satisfied with Mataroa, but I wanted to introduce more blogging platforms for the second workshop. So I provided four different options: Mataroa, Bear Blog, Pika, and Smol Pub. In the end, two chose Mataroa, one chose Bear Blog, and one chose Pika.

I loved our conversations about domain names, website designs, and the differences between the four platforms. However, I also realized meeting twice to create a minimalist blog could feel a little time-wasting to some people.

The Third Workshop

The third one was held during “The Stop for Readers,” which was a mini festival filled with 19 different bookstores selling already-read books.

I was in charge of a program called “30-minute Instant Blog.” For two days, I met 7 people 1:1 to tailor-make a personal blog. I worked with the participants to look for a perfect domain name on DomainTyper, choose between Mataroa and Bear Blog, and write on a Markdown editor. Although I promised 30 minutes, I spent around 50 minutes per session. Signing up and paying for the domain and platform took more than I expected.

What I Learned

So far, I’ve helped 17 people create personal blogs. I compiled 16 of the RSS feeds on my website if you’re interested in checking them out(all blogs are in Korean of course).

Last, I’d like to share some lessons from the three workshops:

1. Everyone agreed writing on profit-driven corporate platforms sucks so much ass. I tried, especially during the first two workshops, to explain why I think it’s crucial to own one’s data. Most participants expressed gratitudes for indie platforms like Mataroa because they finally could focus on writing instead of catering to algorithmic ranking and placing ad banners. Online writing is much more fun on the platforms made for writers, not users. I also tried to make sure that it was important to pay for great softwares to support developers.
2. Most of the members had never purchased a domain name. Once again, I realized a simple task like buying a domain name could sound like a huge barrier. Everyone was surprised how easy it was to set up a DNS record. Thanks to amazing tools, building on the Internet has become so easy, but many of us still wait for big tech companies to upgrade features and solve problems. No one had heard of Markdown, RSS, and alternative blogging platforms either.
3. After building a blog together, some writers still have not published their first post. I don’t blame them, but I wonder if there was anything I could do to help building writing habits.

“I think about being married to you, and that woman is a stranger to me.”

“I can’t believe I have to know you forever!”

“Everyday I wake up and I hope you’re dead … Get hit by a car and die!”

Don’t worry. These are not my words to Kang; they are lines from the movie “Marriage Story.” It’s one of my favorite films, and this scene is my absolute favorite within it. The protagonists, Charlie and Nicole, are in the midst of a custody battle during their divorce proceedings. Exhausted by the slander about each other conveyed by their lawyers, Nicole visits Charlie’s house to communicate directly with him, but things don’t go as expected. They both want to resolve things peacefully without escalating the lawsuit further. However, as the conversation progresses, anger starts to surface bit by bit. The conversation turns into a competition of ‘who can hurt another more.’ The exploding emotions were so agonizing that even I, as a viewer, felt suffocated by the intensity.

Of course, I don’t particularly favor this scene for some perverted reason like taking pleasure in cruel emotional fights. Charlie, collapsing on the floor in tears, embraces Nicole’s legs and says, “I’m sorry.” Nicole strokes Charlie’s back and replies, “I’m sorry too.” At the start of their conversation, they sit far apart in a small room, but by the end of their fight, they are huddled together in the middle of the room. The narrowed distance between them. The feeling of loving and hating someone so much. I hoped they wouldn’t part ways. I understood why this movie was titled “Marriage Story” instead of “Divorce Story.”

“When the door of communication is open, there is nothing we cannot do. Therefore, we must always strive to keep that door open.” - Thich Nhat Hanh, “Anger”

Leaning onto each other and sharing the pain in their hearts, what the two needed wasn’t a long heated fight but a brief moment of understanding. I wondered, is there any way to take the step of reconciliation before getting angry? If only that were possible, there would be no need to say terrible things to the person you love. There wouldn’t even be anger in our heart or broken relationships in the first place. Why do we have to let out intense anger to barely understand each other?

When I don’t know how to express anger properly, I end up getting angrier than necessary. Saying things like “What’s wrong? Just say it!” only escalates anger, and friends who have no idea why I’m angry often lead to more frustration. The more precious the other person is, the faster that anger amplifies. “How can someone who claims to love me not understand how I feel?” One person’s anger soon becomes two people’s, and that anger evolves into a fight.

I can’t just choose to talk to people whose styles match well with mine. In family relationships, I have to put in even more effort to align my attitudes toward anger. But no one has taught me how to express anger well to someone I love. I could only guess. Saying this hurts the other person more. That person reacts this way when angry. The fight didn’t escalate when I walked away. Making mistakes, going through trial and error, figuring it out intuitively. This has been my way of learning anger management.

When issues arise at work, we hold meetings to resolve them. But even though I believe dealing with emotions like anger is an important issue, I couldn’t bring myself to put this problem on the discussion table. As a result, I had to go through costly failures. Sometimes my words about the other person’s feelings fueled their anger. I would also get upset when no one appreciated my efforts to hold back the anger. As I went through this trial and error, my heart was slowly falliing apart.

If I can’t learn by direct experience or adept noonchi, there was only one option left: asking directly. Of course, I can’t discuss strategies for peace while seething with anger. Just as a healthy person can imagine death more objectively than a sick person can, I thought now, when things are good between me and Kang, is the best timing to talk about anger. I worried that bringing up past fights might ruin a good day or make it seem like dredging up old conflicts unnecessarily. But I knew safeguarding the loved one from anger was more important than my pride.

Fighting is not something you do alone. So figuring out how to express and deal with anger is not something to be done alone either. “What can I do to help when you’re angry?” “I need time alone when I’m angry.” “I was always grateful for how you tried to understand my feelings even when I was angry.” Before anger claws at us once again, I wanted to convey my feelings directly to Kang. After much thought, I decided to write Kang a “Letter of Reconciliation”. Hoping my efforts would reverse the order of fighting and reconciling.

Express the will to seek peace with others. Ask for help. - Thich Nhat Hanh, “Anger”

I can’t remember why I was angry. The beginning was probably trivial. For example, Kang forgot to clean the sink after washing dishes, did not leave the bowl in its place, or responded insignificantly to my idea. When Kang and I decided to start a restaurant together, we quarreled like never before. The same thing happened that day. The argument was exacerbated off guard while we prepared for the dinner business.

Even those who know us well would see the angry couple and ask, “Who are they?” Angry Kang behaves like “a taciturn high school student.” He shuts his mouth tightly because he doesn’t want to raise his voice. He also puts a sign signaling his anger and waits for the counterpart to acknowledge his feelings. He needs attention but hates nagging. On the other hand, when I’m angry, I transform into “a father who thinks he knows everything about his child.” I hold tightly to a set of personal rules. I talk to the other person as if I’m listening, but if the conversation doesn’t flow as I please, my face crumples.

It was a fight between “a taciturn high school student” and “a father who thinks he knows everything about his children.” Eventually, I was the one who burst with uncontrollable anger. That’s why I often felt unfair. After the meaningless quibble, all I had left was the regretful words I spit out. It didn’t matter what the cause was. I crossed the line and hurt my husband. The aftermath of my anger was too much to handle. I was too much of a foolish fighter to claim, “I’m sorry I was angry. But you did it wrong, too!”

The same fight repeated that day. My anger spread similarly, but I made two unforgettable mistakes. The first is that I cursed at my husband. Oh, I’m so embarrassed to talk about this. But at that moment, I couldn’t even think my action would be reprehensible. It was like standing amid a furious fire. I didn’t care about Kang’s feelings. My head spun faster than ever to pick out words to attack him. The second is that one more person was standing beside us. My dad, who stopped by our restaurant to grab a cup of coffee as usual, had to watch the live broadcast of our emotional shitshow. Of course, Kang wanted to stop the fight as soon as he saw my father, but I continued to lash out at Kang. My dad must have been sad to witness his daughter and son-in-law bickering with each other like the worst enemies. More importantly, how humiliating must it have been for my husband to show unconstrained rage to his father-in-law?

Eventually, my father left the space in bewilderment, and Kang soon walked out of the store as well. I was alone for the dinner service. As the anger began to subside little by little, I felt regret, guilt, and shame. I wish I could run home and apologize immediately, but I had to stay and finish the business. All I could do was self-reflection. Kang is the person I want to protect the most. Kang is more important than anything else, so I want to keep him safe from harmful elements. I sometimes joke that I want to protect him in a large transparent hamster ball. I couldn’t believe I had hurt the most precious person like I’d never done before. It was impossible to understand. ‘Why did I get so angry at my husband?’

I couldn’t let go and stay the same. I obviously had a problem. As a human in the 21st century, I opened a YouTube app and searched “How to hold back my anger.” Watching the endless results, I got a strange comfort from the fact that there were so many hot-tempered people like me. Psychologists in the videos explained some tips to cool down, but people in the comment sections seemed to have different ideas. “Those who are short-tempered will never change,” “People can never be fixed,” and “If your partner gets angry easily, you really should break up with that person.”

Then I came across a video. Like me, the man in the video had difficulty dealing with anger at his family. His wife asked a serious question that challenged his attitude towards invariable wrath. “Can you be angry at ABC like you did to me?” (ABC was a close friend he had known for a long time. ABC was like his older brother, so the husband always paid respect to ABC). After hearing the question, the man concluded he would not be able to get angry at ABC. That’s when I realized he and I were 100% capable of controlling our anger. We were actively choosing our targets.

I felt like I could take out my anger because the victim was a family. I automatically believed our strong relationship would withstand my outrage. I belittled the bond Kang and I had built over the years. Although the fact that I was ungrateful to my loved ones made me disappointed in myself, I also felt refreshed from fatigue. It was like hearing the exact name of my illness to discover there was a cure.

Anger is the same as fire in a Chinese character. Anger indeed spreads like wildfire. However, as the owner of my mind, I could always take a breath and calm my anger. If I could choose a person to get angry at, I should be able to root out the negative emotion. I must learn to prevent fire and put it out quickly when my heart is set aflame. Some say a person doesn’t change, but I had to take back the initiative to lead my life again. I know what I want to do next. I want to protect the people I love.

1. Yes. Art doesn’t get sold without marketing. We’ve seen too many influencers/celebrities becoming top-selling authors and painters. In this era of never-ending feeds of content, artists survive by standing out on TikTok, YouTube, Instagram, X, Threads, LinkedIn, Bluesky, or Mastodon.
2. No. Artists must be dedicated to their crafts, not succumbing to profit-driven algorithms. ‘Likes’ and ‘followers’ cannot represent art’s true value. Chasing online fame is the wrong kind of game to play as an aspiring artist.

So what should I do? This is a constant battle. I’m aware maintaining a sizable audience is crucial for many professional writers. On the other hand, checking analytics all day has robbed me of the focus I need for my actual job. I wonder if it’s possible to build meaningful relationships online without being part of a worldwide status game.

I thought joining a different kind of social media could be an answer to this conundrum. That’s why I’ve tried lots of indie platforms such as Are.na, Mirco.blog, and Sublime. I admire these services because they offer subscription-based Internet town squares that show zero interest in spying on the members. However, in these communities, I still couldn’t forgo the desire to be seen. Even in the absence of ‘likes’ and ‘followers,’ I fell straight back to seeking attention and validation.

Now, I stopped using any social media. I’ve decided to put all my creative energy into publishing essays and short stories on my blog. I turned all analytics off to forget about data trends and dopamine hits. My strategy is to repeat the process of writing and publishing until I become confident in the craft of writing. Spending hours on platform shopping must end today.

My RSS feed reader is my new social media. In fact, all of the authentic relationships I’ve built online were through blogs. I love exchanging emails with other bloggers because reading each other’s writing is really the best way to develop strong connections. Blogging could sound lonely and boring, but my readers know more about me than most of my offline friends. I have to remind myself that I’m here to make friends, not followers.

Here’s my conclusion. I’m not productizing myself or creating a personal brand. I don’t want to worry about selling before I have the skill set to be considered a writer. I won’t miss social media either. I’m happy with books and blogs on my hands.

You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you. - Ray Bradbury

I’ve had a sign over my typewriter for over 25 years now, which reads “Don’t think!” You must never think at the typewriter — you must feel. … The worst thing you do when you think is lie — you can make up reasons that are not true for the things that you did, and what you’re trying to do as a creative person is surprise yourself — find out who you really are, and try not to lie, try to tell the truth all the time. - Ray Bradbury

For two weeks, as soon as I woke up, I opened my laptop and wrote whatever came into my mind.¹ Julia Cameron suggested filling three pages, but I didn’t want to let this routine be another form of homework. I just stopped whenever I felt like I was done after 20 to 30 minutes. Sometimes, I wrote more than three pages and sometimes only a few paragraphs.

I decided to give morning pages a try because I wanted to form a habit of writing without the fear of self-censorship and criticism. I didn’t want to be the adult who was once an artist as a child. I wished to cultivate the nonconformist spirit within me.

The amount of eccentricity in a society has generally been proportional to the amount of genius, mental vigour, and moral courage which it contained. That so few now dare to be eccentric, marks the chief danger of the time. - John Stuart Mill

After two weeks, the impact was less than transformative. There was no enlightenment. My life was not magically charged with the sudden burst of creative energy. I still struggled to focus on a single project and often stared at the monitor lifelessly.

However, when I reread my journal, I realized what I wrote in the morning was worth revisiting. The sentences were not refined but seemed more authentic than my blog posts. Some ideas even inspired me to work on long-form writings.

Curious to have a peek? Here’s some snippets from my morning pages this week (never sharing my journal again):

Monday

• My wish is to be a great creator, teacher, and friend.
• I’m using this tool called MarkEdit. It’s super fast. Crisp and simple. I’m thinking of using this to write for my blog posts in the future. The details of design matter right? Some apps just feel right. Feel like a breath of fresh air. Tastes like freedom almost. Why is that? Are we making a brand that makes people feel that way? ‘Damn these guys are doing something different’ should be the first impression.

Tuesday

• Do I need a purpose to wake up and jumpstart the day? Maybe. I do have tons of things I want to do, but they don’t feel urgent right now. Maybe that’s a problem. Maybe… Who knows?
• I think in two languages. No, I mostly think in Korean. Maybe it’s because I mostly speak in Korean. It’s weird. I consume information in English, and I’m even writing this journal in English. But I’m surrounded by people speaking Korean.
• So, what is creativity? What should I read about creativity? Originality may mean authenticity. Let’s dig into a bunch of interviews and see how other artists answer this question. What is creativity and how do they develop this skill? That’s really an interesting topic. Because creativity is definitely not about talent. It’s about constant work. Workworkwork. Just work tirelessly.

Wednesday

My Input and Output

Current input:

• Books.
• Blogs.
• Conversations with wife, mom, and a few friends.
• Podcasts.
• TV shows and movies.
• News.
• Social media.

Current output:

• Writings (newsletter, blog posts, and a book).
• Podcast.
• Workshops and meetings.

Thursday

• PIKA가 런칭했다. 퍼스널블로깅플랫폼이 많아지고 있다. 서로 뭐가 다를까 싶어도 놀랍게도 다른 매력이 있다. 기능이 아니라 보여지는 디자인이 얼마나 중요한지 새삼 깨닫는다. 우리는 어떤 디자인을 내세우고 있는가. 충분히 매력있나? 딱 봤을 때, 아 저 로고가 박힌 티셔츠를 입고 싶다고 느낄 수 있나.
• 창의적이다는 말은 사람 혹은 제품에 쓰인다. 새롭거나 쓰임이 있거나. 둘 중에 뭔가가 있어야 한다. 새롭다는 것은 무엇을 의미하는가. 완전히 새로운 발명이거나 아니면 새로운 접근이 필요하다. 창의적인 사람에 대하여 이야기 해보자. 창의적인 사람은 평범함에서 비범함을 발견한다. 봉준호는 창의적이다. 상상을 잘해서가 아니라 상상을 현실로 만들기 때문에 창의적이다. 나도 가끔 상상을 한다. 만약 외계인이 넘어와 인간을 지배한다면 어떻게 될까. 하루 아침에 피라미드 맨 위에서 바닥으로 내려오는 현실을 받아들일 수 있을까.
• 야 그 주제로 영화를 만들어봐, 소설을 써봐, 뭐라도 해봐는 할 수 있지만 실제로 스토리를 짜서 세상에 내놓고 감동을 줄 수 있는 능력이 있나. 그것이 창의성에 핵심이 아닐까. 하나에 집착한다. 그리고 이뤄낸다. 그것이 아마 창의성의 근본이다.
• 일주일 간 창의적인 사람이 되고자 노력했다. 이상하게 들리는 말이다. 창의성을 인공적으로 만들 수나 있을까. 어찌됐든 한번 발악했다.
• 나는 어떤 사람을 창의적인 사람으로 바라볼까. 나는 어떤 물건을 봤을 때 창의적이라 생각할까? 창의적인 사람을 찾기는 참 어렵다. 유행을 잘 따라가는 사람, 정해진 틀 안에서 경쟁을 잘하는 사람은 있지만 ‘아 저 사람 참 창의적이다’ 싶은 사람은 주변에 찾기 어렵다.
• 창의적인 사람을 세상에 없던 작품을 만든다. 완전히 새로울 필요는 없지만, 평범한 일상에 새로운 시각을 제시한다. 놀라움이 있다. 불편하게 한다.

Friday

• How to survive as an artist? That’s a question that we all have to answer. I can teach, I can sell books, I can maybe become a professor.
• I should try to care more about the people in this country. Great stuff is happening, and I might just be oblivious of it. Should I move to Seoul? Maybe I should. Should I try to be more connected to Seoul? Maybe I should.
• Solitude. Just reading books and writing books. Just books and books and books.

Conclusion

I’ll continue to jot down my stream of consciousness every morning. I don’t expect morning pages to be the secret sauce for my creative endeavors. I only know that my work will be more truthful if I’m aware of what I really care about. So far, rereading piles of private journals seems like the best way to learn about myself.

The most important thing about art is to work. Nothing else matters except sitting down every day and trying. - Steven Pressfield

A friend called me “an artist.” “No, I’m not an artist.” I shook my head and hands immediately as a reflex.

Why did I refuse to be considered an artist? I can think of a few reasons.

1. My art is not generating money.
2. My art is not famous.
3. Thus, I’m not confident in my creations.

I never thought I was making art professionally. To me, only people like Picasso and Kendrick were ordained as artists. I knew I had a budding desire to craft more, but I never took myself seriously.

I glorified the outcome, not the process.

Living life as an artist is a practice. You are either engaging in the practice or you’re not. It makes no sense to say you’re not good at it. It’s like saying, “I’m not good at being a monk.” You are either living as a monk or you’re not. - Rick Rubin

My life is already filled with art. I write, record, and edit in the office until it’s dark and quiet outside. No one forces me to sit and stare at the monitor, but I still adhere to my publication schedule. It’s a plain fact; I’m devoting my life to the art of storytelling.

I dig for inspiration when I consume other books, podcasts, and videos. I sometimes sigh when I encounter an exceptional sentence in a novel. ‘How can I write like this?’ I get jealous of their God-given talent and worry about my embarrassing skills.

Art is not about thinking something up. It is about the opposite—getting something down. - Julia Cameron

In the end, no one cares whether I’m entitled to be an artist. There’s no rush to tattoo “artist” in my bio. This inner conflict will be resolved after putting enough work in. I’m the one who quit jobs and closed a restaurant to spend more time on art. I love being an artist and wish to stay truthful when a friend calls me so.

Over the next two weeks, I want to share my thoughts as I become even more invested in art-making. This will be a fun experiment. I hope to answer some questions as well.

• What is creativity?
• How do I learn, express, and publish more?
• What happens if I write morning pages every day?
• Can I go back to being a child again?

I was nervous when I decided to close my restaurant to start a publisher. My heart said I was on the right path, but I wasn’t sure if my creation could be a meaningful contribution to the ever-growing space of information.

My mind played the same question over and over. Does the world need more books? More specifically, does the world need my books?

In South Korea, at least 60,000 titles were published in 2022. 53% of Koreans above 18 don’t even read a single book per year. In this country, books in warehouses are stacked like mountains. Clearly, people around me don’t read Laozi, Plato, and Adam Smith anymore. Shorts, gossip, and porn have replaced great books.

I’m not Tom Cruise, and my book is not Mission Impossible. If I want my book to be perused by many, I must convince readers that I crafted attention-worthy content.

I was thrilled to pay for books by Morgan Housel, Tim Ferriss, Derek Sivers, and Rick Rubin because I had gained so much through their previous posts and podcasts. Hearing the news of their upcoming books, I was already sold these creators were committed to helping others and presenting modern classics. Like friends supporting one another, buying these books felt like a private way of saying Thank you.

I want my readers to feel the same. I want to persuade others through consistent work and actions. Sleek copywriting and photography might pull off some sales. But having a New York Times Bestseller badge loses meaning if no one’s actually reading it. The grand prize for publishing a book must be the authentic connection through personal ideas and stories. That’s why I’m determined to share my rocky journey of running a publisher while writing a book.

If an artist comes up to me and says, I’m scared because I’m not talented enough to compose music like Beethoven or Mozart. I would answer Come on, you haven’t even tried yet. Art is not about others. It’s about yourself. Why not direct this advice to myself? The world is not waiting for my book. I can’t write prose like Ray Bradbury. My book will not be groundbreaking. Still, this book will represent who I really am. Right now, that’s enough for me.

Mataroa

• The most affordable blogging platform on the web. Publish for free or pay $9 yearly for custom domain. Great support from the developer.

Bear Blog

• Minimal blogging platform. For premium features like custom domain and analytics, pay $5 per month or $48 per year. Possibly the best choice if you’re looking for a simple blog with some stylization options.

Micro.Blog

• Imagine Mastodon + Blogging. The best choice if you’re looking for a communal way of publishing both short and long form content. The platform has an active community of people who’ve escaped from big tech social media. Micro.blog offers two premium plans: $5 or $10 per month.

Lykhari

• A fast, simple, and feature-packed blogging platform. Lykhari could be the best alternative if you’re looking to migrate from Ghost Pro.

Typora

• My choice of markdown editor. I like its minimal design, features like focus mode, and customization options like different themes. To me, $15 price tag is reasonable(much cheaper than iA writer). If you’re looking for a free option, there’s Marktext.

Wormhole

• Free end-to-end encrypted file sharing tool. Wormhole just works like magic.

What if you could spend a day reading books in a quiet space? No need to feel the urge to check Instagram, YouTube, and Email. No need to worry about what to eat and where to go next. Just you and your book. Nothing in between.

If you want to rest like a reader in the pre-digital era, join us 01-20, 02-03, or 02-17 Saturday from 9 AM to 3 PM at Jagunbae Office(Jeju-si Seosa-ro 173 제주시 서사로 173).

• The entrance fee for Books Only is 10,000 won. Email me your name, phone number, and chosen date to join Books Only.
• We provide coffee/tea and vegan soup & bread for lunch.
• From 9 AM to 3 PM, you can spend as much time as you would like in the office.
• Phones, laptops, and other electronic devices are not allowed during Books Only. We ask everyone to put their phones in airplane mode, and they will be stored in a separate box.
• You don’t have to bring your own books. We have books in both Korean and English.
• Quiet and short conversations only. Just like in an old library’s study room.
• We will be playing ambient music in the background.

Again, email me your name, phone number, and chosen date to join Books Only. See you soon!

Reviews

I can’t even remember the last time I focused on reading without checking my phone constantly.

I finished two books today.

Fresh bread and soup made my day.

I’ve never told anyone that I like books. My reading habit has always been on and off. Even when I was in the mood to read, I switched focus to another book after skimming a few chapters. However, books somehow never left my life. I organized an independent book publishing club in college, got my first job at a publishing company, and now started a publisher myself. Maybe I need to rethink my feelings toward books. I should be able to tell everyone that I like books.

With a hundred percent chance, books have always taken me somewhere nice. Through books, I’ve met incredibly kind people and solved headache-inducing worries. I was sometimes disappointed by the same kind of filler content, but I always sensed the transformative power of words. To me, reading has been the ultimate version of a positive-sum game. Whenever I picked up a book, I was destined to win.

Thanks to the magical medium of books, I had a chance to be friends with the warm-hearted people at “Second Read Bookstop.”¹ Some say people don’t read anymore, but the room was packed with readers from all over Jeju. Some guests returned on the second day to browse more, and many visitors spent more than two hours in the crowded space. Watching the shelves filled with donated books, I realized the books had transported me to somewhere wonderful again.

I enjoyed every second of preparing for Second Read Bookstop, but I was also worried. Would anyone care about a fair about used books? Would people have time for another event at the end of the year? To ease the doubt, I had to constantly remind myself to be immersed in the process, not the result.

Second Read Bookstop made me appreciate more about my lifelong affection for books. Hinge, Larry, and Illy, the three dear friends who organized the event together, share similar feelings. More than ever, we are determined to read, write, and publish more. We all can’t wait to find out where books take us next.

That doesn’t mean I need to consult with my computer whenever I have a burning question. ChatGPT is a tool, not my mentor. Why would I let AI-generated sentences be the guiding principles of my life?

Immediate solutions could only be satisfying when asking plain questions such as “Where is Korea?” There can’t be an absolute answer to multifaceted questions like “How can I make my business survive a hundred years?“AI could provide useful tips, but I must go through years of trial and error myself to learn numerous details of running a sustainable business. Complex tasks like writing a book, running a company, and maintaining relationships deserve a lifetime endeavor.

I refuse to be a docile student of AI-generated wisdom. Some of us are drowning in a never-ending feed of content. Consumers have already lost patience when it comes to entertainment. Should we allow another algorithm to govern our lives?

If you were going to Seoul for the first time, would you entrust ChatGPT as the mastermind behind your itinerary? I don’t think so. I’m sure you would prefer unique experiences over generic touristy destinations. As a first-time human, that’s how I feel about seeking life hacks through feeding prompts into a language model.

I want to get lost and explore the world on my own.

Who controls the past controls the future: who controls the present controls the past.

Some thoughts after reading 1984:

• Similar to INGSOC, modern governments seek to control the historical narrative. In South Korea, President Yoon has advocated for downplaying of Japanese colonialism while promoting an “anti-communist” agenda. Despite confusion among many Koreans about his priorities, Yoon continues to promote his abstract propaganda of “free society” on the global stage. No one, including Yoon himself, seems to understand the exact meaning of “freedom.” On the other hand, his actions suggest that he doesn’t value freedom of speech, as he is suing investigative journalists for reporting “fake news.” Yoon’s freedom doesn’t mean the equality of opportunity either. In contrast with his pledge to have “lots of cabinet members in their 30s,” Yoon has filled the government with old political veterans. Unfortunately, just like Yoon, too many elected officials break their initial promises and fixate on political disputes.
• I wonder about the realist approach to understanding democracy in our society. In two countries I’m most familiar with, the US and South Korea, citizens are always left with two grandpas(rarely a grandma) presidential candidates who are so out-of-touch with the lives of most voters. People become hopeful when an election comes, but the ballot always looks the same. The winner is either a red or blue millionaire. Some questions: is there any viable path to escape from this two-party system? Is election really the best method to choose the leader of a massive community? How can we make politicians to do their jobs? Can “Network State” be an answer to these perennial problems?
• What if most governments are jealous of China’s capability to watch its citizens through a sophisticated surveillance model? Some might say democratic nations would not allow China-level unfreedom, but many Koreans and Americans don’t mind letting AI intrude into daily lives. Lots of customers are even willing to pay hundreds of dollars to surround themselves with more advanced cameras and speakers. How can we be sure that intelligent agencies can’t access the data from tech companies? Naver and Kakao have already handed over hundreds of thousands of personal information to the Korean government. Can we trust Google and Meta to be the trustworthy gatekeepers of privacy? In the end, they are the ones bringing online surveillance to the offline world.
• Like Goldstein in 1984, political parties like to create an evil character to incite mass movements. The target could be a former president(two of three former Korean presidents were imprisoned after their time in office) or another nation such as Russia, North Korea, or China. I’m not trying to defend these politicians and countries. I want to ensure that I’m not merely “praying for Ukraine” without trying my best to understand the history behind the war. Understanding complicated topics should not be as simple as hitting a “like” on a YouTube video. I don’t want to be the one who’s incapable of questioning the existence of Big Brother and Goldstein.
• Orwell needed a political purpose to write novels. In his essay Why I Write, Orwell says he writes “to make political writing into an art.” Then, I wondered what topics would infuriate me the most to start writing. It’s a pivotal question. What do I hate the most? I get angry when I see injustice in my community. The rich Korean kids faking SAT scores and deeply-rooted corruption in the Korean army are some examples burning in my heart. Orwell’s advice is simple. I must turn this rage into an art.

My review will be deeply personal. There won’t be a 5-star rating or structural analysis. I’ll only share what I think is inspirational and interesting about the story. Nothing special, just a man’s attempt to have a real conversation with another writer.

I also hope this series to help me improve my information diet. Perusing books could be the best way to forget about the endless feed of entertainment on social media.

Let me show you some candidates. It’s actually a list of unread books waiting to be opened on my Kindle.

• 1984 by George Orwell.
• Animal Farm by George Orwell.
• Brave New World by Aldous Huxley.
• Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk.
• Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury.
• I, Robot by Isaac Asimov.
• Wealth of Nations by Adam Smith.
• No Country for Old Men by Ernest Hemingway.
• On the Road by Jack Kerouac.
• Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut.
• Catch-22 by Joseph Heller.
• The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson.
• Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson.
• Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Hunter S. Thompson.
• The Sympathizer by Viet Thanh Nguyen.
• John Dies at the End by Jason Pargin.
• Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut.
• Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky.
• The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck.
• Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin.
• Bear Town by Fredrik Backman.
• Cyteen by C.J. Cherryh.
• The Night Watchman by Louise Erdrich.
• The Sentence by Louise Erdrich.
• A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Tool.
• The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand.
• The Stranger by Albert Camus.
• Beloved by Toni Morrison.
• Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie.
• Oblivion by David Foster Wallace.

Email me if you have any recommendations. I’d also like to read non-fiction books, but finding one without fluff has been difficult. I recently realized reading short essays is much more effective for self-improvement. I could be wrong about this take.

Restaurants are fragile; they compete with each other, but the collective of local restaurants is anti-fragile for that very reason. Nassim Taleb

Restaurants are concave. Limited upside, larger downside (like short volatility). Mega-fragile to events and circumstances; nonportable and illiquid. Nassim Taleb

I think that if you want to compete super intensely, you should open a restaurant in DC. There’ll be competition — but you won’t make any money or do anything. Peter Thiel

If you offer affordable food with low margins, you can probably pay employees only minimum wage. And you’ll need to squeeze out every efficiency: that’s why restaurants put grandma to work at the register and make kids wash dishes. Peter Thiel

Starting a great Italian restaurant is not entrepreneurship because the proprietors make no attempt to scale it. Running McDonald’s is not entrepreneurship because they make no serious attempt to build a better product. Apple is an entrepreneurial venture because it is in the business of delivering ever-increasing quality at higher scale. Naval Ravikant

According to these well-known business gurus, opening a restaurant is one of the dumbest ideas.

As a restaurant owner, I side with these people. Unpredictable variables often crush reputable restaurants into ashes. Why would you invest your savings into a business destined to cage match with other hundreds? Look around. Only a few restaurants are lucky enough to survive for years. Even the finest restaurants packed with guests struggle to generate enough profit to keep their doors open.

Restaurant management is not getting easier either. We live in an age where the Internet demands all restaurants to be flawless. When everyone can act like a critic, a single bad review is capable of driving a stake into a restaurant’s heart. 100 positive reviews can be forgotten very soon, but one bad review always stands out like a diamond.

However, we can set these gloomy facts aside and think differently. What if a restaurant challenges the status quo like a startup? When I decided to start a restaurant without having any experience(yup, I was reckless and deserve to fail miserably), I knew my restaurant had to provide more value than a business of selling food offline. That’s why I have treated my sandwich shop as both a restaurant and a media company.

Confused? Here’s what my restaurant has done so far:

• For about two years, the two owners(my wife and I) have sent a weekly newsletter on our own website. We open-source our recipes and share thoughts about running a small business. We never did ads on any channel, but now we have 127 subscribers from all over the country. Not a million, but it’s still notable.
• We are working on two projects right now. Our first ebook on starting “a too-small-to-fail restaurant” and a podcast to interview fellow business owners in Jeju.
• A month ago, we began to offer our space for free with future business owners and entrepreneurs. So far, we have accepted three teams and already hosted the first pop-up this week.

Of course, the owners put real effort into the food as well. We bake sourdough focaccia, make seven kinds of vegan sauces, and serve fresh veggies all the time. We work at least 12 hours a day to guarantee excellent food and service. It’s sometimes difficult to find time/energy to create content, so we push extra on weekends.

I’m afraid my restaurant will fail if we can’t generate meaningful revenue online. Even if we maintain perfect reviews on all platforms, I know there’s a clear limit to our success. Most people are unfamiliar with dining at a vegan restaurant. The market is very small, and I can’t expect the culture to shift within a few years.

I’m in an ongoing experiment to substantiate a unique path for restaurants. I don’t want to run my restaurant like the Bear; my goal is to create content like the Bear. If we could escape from competition through online media, our restaurant could be the one that lasts a lifetime.

However, I also meet online “critics” who tour restaurants to collect reviews on Instagram. When these people enter my restaurant, I can instantly tell they’re not interested in any of our products and values. To me, they don’t feel like customers.

There’s no smile nor “hello,” these people stride in and take pictures in burst mode. What am I doing here? I murmur while wrapping sandwiches. The food is served, and I hear the iPhone shutter until they’re gone. They take a cab to hunt the next review. I clean up the table and leftovers.

In a few days, I encounter their reviews online. But no, I never see them again.

When Mom told me about an 8cm tumor on Dad’s spinal cord, I automatically assumed there would be a way out of this nightmare.

Why be pessimistic this time? Dad had already undergone surgeries and chemo to fend off his cancer. The spinal tumor seemed worse, but some of the best doctors in the country were looking into the case.

After a week of discussions, the doctors concluded a dissection was the most reasonable solution. I was scared, but I tried my best not to doubt whatever the doctors had to say.

Even after days of googling, I didn’t feel entitled to make suggestions for my father’s critical condition. Like rooting for Korea in World Cup, I just crossed my fingers and put my trust in the hospital’s procedures.

Because I was too focused on the disease, I missed so many chances to have a real conversation with him. I should have asked about his view on death, what he wished to leave behind, and what he wanted to do before the big surgery. Instead, I pushed down my feelings to be rational about the situation.

Looking back, I talked to my father like he was my patient. Even when Dad’s condition was clearly getting worse every single day, I prayed for a miracle to stop his pain. I was good at denying reality.

Dad’s last days deserved more respect than that of a dying patient. I emptied the urine, massaged his legs, and fed him pills but never asked him how he wanted to spend the last days of his life.

When Dad showed clear signs of dying, I didn’t budge to stop a doctor from injecting additional drugs. I was staring at the scene like I was watching a play. I didn’t protect Dad’s dignity in the last moments.

No human would want to die as a patient. I held his cold hands to finally face my failure to be his son when he needed one.

• I admire people who ask serious questions. What makes humans different from other animals? How did we end up with this political system? How does population density affect urban design? How does media influence the human mind? What is consciousness? What is death? These questions with no correct answers are usually the best ones.
• Acquiring new skills often starts from learning what and how to observe. I used to draw like a 6-year-old, but now I can draw like an adult. All thanks to my Drawing 101 course that taught me how to spot and focus on details.
• Serious writers are skilled readers.
• Master bakers use all five senses to assess the dough.
• Listening to a podcast is like reading non-fiction. Listening to music is like reading fiction.

Last weekend, my wife and I visited Seoul for the first time in about a year. We were excited to see friends and eat great Mexican food(still haven’t found a decent Mexican restaurant in Jeju).

Although we used to live in Seoul for years, I couldn’t stop telling myself, “There are so many people and ads.” I was like a robot overwhelmed with processing thousands of faces and billboards.

Ads, especially the ones in subway stations, were selling hagwon courses, cosmetics, and plastic surgeries. These images were urging all to chase popular jobs and mimic perfect-looking celebrities.

Can you form original ideas after reading hundreds of ad copies every day? Is it even possible to be 100% immune to these messages?

If hospitality means embracing assholes, I must hide my annoyance and provide my best service to everyone entering the restaurant. Even when someone vents frustration on me, I should be poised for the interaction.

Understanding assholes takes courage and effort. It’s impossible to follow this path without training my brain in mindfulness. To act this way, my body must be drenched with grace and love.

I can also forget about serving assholes and focus on other guests. Maybe someone’s got to face these assholes. The assholes would notice they were unwelcome, so most would never consider returning. This could be a wiser choice if I never regret treating some guests differently.

It’s a dilemma.

I’ve followed Tiny Desk for over 10 years and watched many of the videos. For my own benefit, I organized a list of my personal favorites.

Suggestions are appreciated. Let me know if there’s any artist I’m missing.

• Tyler, The Creator
• Mac Miller
• Daniel Caesar
• H.E.R.
• SIX The Musical
• Juilliard Jazz Ensemble
• Fred again..
• SsingSsing
• Durand Bernarr
• Natalia Lafourcade
• Kenny Beats
• DOMi & JD BECK
• T-Pain
• D.R.A.M.
• Tank And The Bangas
• NoSo
• Superorganism
• Weezer
• The Linda Lindas
• Hobo Johnson and The Lovemakers
• Saba
• Alisa Amador
• Julien Baker
• Hermanos Gutiérrez
• Lewis Capaldi

To answer Tim’s questions, Bobby laid out some Korean words like Han and Nunchi to represent distinct characteristics of Korean culture. Hearing Tim’s excitement at these “exotic” words, I realized Koreanness is being defined by the blue-checked celebrities outside Korea.

Trying to blanket the entire population of Korea with these meaningless terms is like claiming all Japanese still carry the samurai spirit. I don’t want Han and Nunchi to be the next Ikigai that has become a buzzword in countless self-help books.

Brooding upon the success of Korean entertainment won’t provide enlightening life lessons. The rise of Korean soft power is a complicated story that deserves more than “there’s something different about Koreans.”

If you’re still curious about ‘Han,’ read this article by Minsoo Kang.

Before I forget, I’d like to summarize my presentation to the students.

• The idea to build a vegan sandwich shop was born when we started to ask serious questions about our lives.
• When working for a company, I wondered if I could be a valuable addition to society. I wanted to “escape competition through authenticity,” but there were lots of BS around my life. I worked for three companies to realize polishing my resume is not a path to wealth or happiness.
• We stopped looking for an ideal setting. Instead, we quit our jobs to create our “perfect environment.”
• We wanted to be the masters of our lives. We didn’t want to let competition and jealousy control who we were.
• We thought of many business models, but running a vegan sandwich shop was the only one that sparked our imaginations. With this idea, we dreamed of designing and providing a unique product, space, and content.
• Before we even knew how to bake sandwich bread, we came up with a set of principles. Five of the principles are 1. Don’t let others’ opinions affect our decisions. 2. Long-term thinking is the way. We focus on small yet constant growth. 3. Hard choices, easy life. No sourcing. We bake bread, make the sauce, and develop our website. 4. Life is short. Mastering one craft is enough. 5. Always creation over consumption.
• Our content has similar principles: 1. We publish writings on our own domain. We don’t rely on big-tech platforms to build an audience. 2. We don’t let metrics dictate our content. Original content should not be SEO-friendly. 3. Never stop creating and publishing. 4. Help others. We open-source our recipes and know-how. 5. We create content not for a million but for a hundred people.
• The cheesylazy.com website I built is simple but effective. Unlike bulky websites and platforms, our website is fast, privacy-friendly, and straightforward.
• Our future plans. We’re writing a “Too Small to Fail” e-book and planning to start a podcast interviewing small business owners.
• The problems we’re considering. 1. Can we be 100% free from Instagram? 2. How can we convince readers to subscribe to our weekly newsletter? 3. How to design a home page. 4. We have over 90 posts now. How can we organize them to be reader-friendly?

Sure. ChatGPT passed the bar exam, and Midjourney generated some impressive text-to-image artworks. However, my life has not been impacted at all. I still bake bread, clean floors, wash dishes, and write articles. AI’s not part of my life yet.

Humans are attracted to doomsday prophecies. When will the volcano erupt? When will the nuclear war begin? When will we achieve AGI? These questions are worth asking only if someone’s trying to prevent a potential catastrophe. Otherwise, “The world is ending anyway” mentality is the fertile ground for helplessness and meaninglessness.

Talking about AI is entertaining. That’s why the content around AI is sweeping the Internet. Nonetheless, I don’t have to squeeze AI into my life. I just want to execute my job well.

• Happiness lies in getting into med school and becoming a doctor.
• There is no “Korean Steve Jobs” because our education system obliterates creativity.
• If you become a government worker, your life is set because you’re guaranteed a pension.
• Never trust Korean media. New York Times and CNN are the most trustworthy media in the world.
• Waiting in line for hours to enter a trendy restaurant is solely for my pleasure(It’s not for Instagram).
• Moving to Australia, Canada, or the US will solve my problems in Korea.
• K-pop has nothing to do with online propaganda.
• To get married, you need a stable job and apartment.

When I was discharged from a 21-month service in the army, I didn’t know what I wanted to do next. I considered preparing for LEET(Legal Education Eligibility Test) to join a law school but soon realized I had no interest in becoming a lawyer.

I wished for an opportunity to escape from the trench of boredom and anxiety. Using a stack of LEET prep books as a pillow, I found myself checking job postings every day. Without telling anyone, I wrote a sloppy resume and CV and sent them to a bunch of companies. A few days later, I received an offer to intern at a travel startup in Seoul.

The internship was incredible. The business development team I joined had the most passionate people in the company. The service was growing fast, and I could freely suggest and lead any projects. I didn’t mind putting in extra hours because I could see I was making a difference.

A few weeks before my 3-month contract ended, my team leader offered me to stay in the company to work as a full-time manager. This meeting surprised me because I never thought of becoming a business manager. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be committed to this career path. My brain was jumbled with futile questions like “What am I good at?” and “What’s my passion?”

I eventually made up my mind and messaged her to say I was interested. I still had to be interviewed by the company’s CEO and COO before signing a new contract. Because my contract was ending soon, HR set up the interview on the last day of my internship.

I wasn’t prepared to prove my value to the company. I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with my life. I noticed the interviewers didn’t have enough time to read my resume either. They asked whether I was genuinely interested in being part of the startup’s mission. In return, I gave them half-baked answers I had overheard in a podcast.

I tried my best to sound smart, but everyone in the room knew I was the exact opposite.

What’s so special?

• We write a weekly newsletter on our website. We share recipes we developed and publish essays about our experience and philosophy. We’ve written over 80 posts and currently have about a hundred subscribers.
• We have fantastic reviews on all sites such as Happy Cow, Google, Naver, and Kakao.
• Our food is fresh and original. We bake our bread twice a day and make almost all the ingredients ourselves. For example, pickles, kombucha, mayonnaise, hot sauce, romesco sauce, tofu cheese, smoked cheese, parsley pesto, teriyaki sauce, and chili are all housemade.
• We aspire to be more than a restaurant. We’re writing our first e-book titled “Too Small to Fail - How to Start a Small Restaurant.” We’re also planning on hosting a podcast to interview independent business owners in Jeju.
• We also update our 200 songs playlist on a daily basis.

Some thoughts about our relationship…

• We don’t hide anything. I don’t hold in farts in front of my wife. I just let them out like I’m alone. Freedom of speech is guaranteed as well. We say whatever we think it’s funny.
• I often feel like she knows more about me than I know myself. Sometimes, we don’t even have to say anything to communicate. I just know when she wants to grab an ice cream.
• We have small fights to prevent big arguments. It’s like using small fires to prevent large wildfires. Whenever I get hurt by what she says, I try to express my emotions immediately. Buddhist mentality is the way. I try my best to avoid suppressing feelings before I get consumed by anger.

I still don’t know what attracted me to Literature. Although I dabbled in Geology, Physics, Psychology, Journalism, and Philosophy courses, I found reading fiction and analyzing it most fascinating.

I was a lucky kid who had unconditional support from my parents. I didn’t worry about securing a job after graduation and didn’t even consider applying to grad school to become a Literature professor. I dismissed people warning me I was “paying a lot of money to be a Starbucks barista.” When choosing courses, my main goal was to have fun as much as possible. That’s why I never skipped a class.

What did I learn from studying Literature? Nothing special really. Attending college is unnecessary if you intend to read books and learn how to write. However, I have no regrets about immersing myself in the works of Soseki and Lu Xun. I’m grateful for the professors who returned my essays loaded with pages of feedback. There’s no way to find out if my expensive education was actually worth it. I can only say I wouldn’t be the same person without the years I spent studying novels. I’m happy with this answer.

When he was leaving the restaurant, I stood up and asked him to take pictures with me. My voice was shaky, but he somehow understood what I wanted. We took about a minute to snap pictures then he left saying goodbye. Soon after he was gone, people flocked to our table asking “Was that Leo?”

Yes, I posted the pictures on Facebook and checked the comments and likes every five minutes. Since then, I must have told this story to dozens of friends. Although I often said “I don’t care about celebrities,” a desire to be associated with them was always inside me.

The longing to be associated with famous people seems like human nature. I always see people posting pictures with celebrities, visiting cafes owned by celebrities, and buying books by celebrities.

Arguably, the number of followers has become the most prevalent measurement of clout. Maybe it’s becoming even harder to be totally indifferent to celebrities.

It was a difficult choice. I decided not to attach my photo with DiCaprio.

After hearing about their concerns, projects, and plans, I was instantly motivated to jumpstart my ongoing tasks. My friends’ perspectives on maintaining and transforming business felt so valuable that I wished I could record the conversation.

When amazing conversations end, I get sad because I know I’ll forget the details in a few days. It’s a bummer that I rely on my faulty memories to rewind what I’ve learned from the discussions. I wonder if recording conversations with other business owners and putting them out to the world would be a good idea.

What do you think? Does “productize yourself” mean I should productize my interactions with friends? I’m sure many more would benefit from listening to the talk between passionate business owners. At the same time, I could also miss opportunities to form authentic relationships. If I’m speaking to a mic while staring at a friend, can I really say I’m not being pretentious?

The marketing strategy for the restaurant is very simple. My wife and I write a weekly newsletter on our website. We share lessons from opening and operating a restaurant, vegan recipes we’re using for the menu, and our thoughts on values such as success and freedom. We’ve been publishing for over a year and now have a hundred subscribers.

How do we make a living? Because the rent is cheap, we don’t have to attract a hundred guests daily to make it even. Because the fixed costs are low, we get to focus more on delivering better food, service, and content. My goal is to protect this virtuous cycle.

Fortunately, we have a steady flow of customers. Many of whom found us through our online writing. I can’t estimate what percentage of the customers know about our website, but I appreciate some recognize us as more than just a sandwich shop.

So, what’s the next step? I certainly don’t want to run a popular restaurant with long wait times. That’s why I never plan to launch a big promotional campaign. Instead, I want to create a podcast that celebrates one-of-a-kind creators and business owners. Will this work? I don’t know. Would I be a fan of this kind of content? For sure.

The place had zero online reviews and had no customers inside. However, since we never liked to waste time and money on beauty maintenance, we decided to go in and take a chance.

To our surprise, the salon turned out to be the best we’ve found in the city. Here are a few reasons:

• The stylist was very attentive and washed our hair twice, both before and after the haircuts. In addition, she spent at least 30 minutes on each of us. We were grateful for this level of service. Affordable places don’t usually do this.
• She never asked us any personal questions. I’ve been to some cheap barber shops, and all the barbers always lectured me about “how to run a successful business.” As someone who simply wanted a haircut, I was relieved to not have to deal with unnecessary conversations.
• The prices were extremely reasonable, with men’s haircuts at 12,000 won and women’s at 14,000 won. The cheapest haircut I had was 10,000 won, but it had much worse service. 12,000 won for an excellent haircut is such a bargain.

After getting the best haircut of the year, my wife and I talked about how we relied on online reviews to assess the quality of a business. Reviews are often helpful, but could also be a barrier between me and hidden gems.

I’m so used to searching for others’ approvals before trying them on my own. Before watching a show on Netflix, I go on Metacritic and Rotten Tomatoes. Before walking into a coffee shop, I check reviews on Naver and Kakao. Whenever it’s time to try something new, I still act like a child so scared of being responsible for my choices.

Dad used to say this whenever we went to a sauna together. He had this theory that most people forget to take care of their butt even though it’s the one doing all the “dirty jobs” for us.

Dad’s favorite spot in the sauna was a warm pool equipped with really strong massage jets. When we entered that pool, he immediately pushed massage buttons for both of us. “Make sure to massage your butt,” he never forgot to remind me.

We were the two boys moving butts in a circle to make sure the jets were touching the entire muscles. We were quiet and focused. And this ritual lasted for at least five minutes.

I still go to a sauna sometimes and think about these memories with Dad. We had some of the most honest conversations while we were literally naked. He also scrubbed my back, massaged my ears, and boosted my confidence saying I was good-looking. I never knew I would look back on those moments, but here I am. I miss my sauna buddy today.

Maybe alienation forces people to think deeply about their individuality. Before I met people who were oblivious to Korean culture, I never imagined my Koreanness could be made fun of by someone else. The moment I realized my identity would stand out, I began asking many questions about my identity.

In Korea, most discussions about Korean identity revolve around nationalism and pessimism. That’s why I find the works of Korean American artists like Lee Isaac Chung and Min Jin Lee refreshing.

Minari and Pachinko feel authentic because they are inspired by the writers’ understanding of their Korean identity. These stories are not about projecting perfect images of Korea. There’s no political agenda. They grew up feeling different from others, and this experience became the creative engine for their crafts.

I’ve tried a number of productivity apps. I subscribed to services like Readwise, Notion, Roam, Logseq, and Obsidian. I also searched for a better search engine than Google. So I’ve switched my default search to Kagi, You, Neeva, and DuckDuckGo. Before discovering Bear Blog, I wrote on WordPress, Ghost, Substack, and Write.as.

I cared so much about finding the best tools for my productivity. I spent too much time looking for a shortcut. When I felt stuck, I automatically handed my problems over to new trending software.

I canceled most subscriptions, but I’m more productive than ever. I stopped using read-it-later apps like Readwise Reader, Matter, and Instapaper as well. Now I read on Kindle, jot down random thoughts on a small notepad, and move these words to Bear Blog.

I don’t need to think about PKM anymore. To write and publish, I only need to make sure I’m carrying a notepad.

Our restaurant is closed on Sundays and Mondays, but I still have to spend the bulk of Mondays prepping ingredients. My wife and I have Sundays to take a break from work, but we’ve decided to self-paint our new house. Ta-da. Sundays are now reserved for applying putty and sanding walls.

There’s no time to waste. When I became obsessed with my daily routine, my time suddenly became way more precious.

Two years ago, when I quit my job as a marketing manager, I felt like I was drowning in too much free time. I could sleep as much as I wanted and learn whatever I enjoyed. However, I struggled to focus on a single task.

Although I had numerous ideas, like writing a blog and learning to bake, I couldn’t sustain a habit of working on them. I was constantly distracted because I had too many options. I wasted so many hours because nothing forced me to be busy.

It’s wonderful to be busy. I’m terrible at keeping track of to-do lists, but I’m capable of following a simple schedule filled with meaningful work.

I thought memorizing the names of famous politicians was necessary to be a smart person. Although I could never figure out why the two parties had to disagree on every topic, I was still proud that I could tell who was on which side.

Even in college, I cared so much about Korean politics. When Park Geun-hye’s corruption scandal rattled the entire country, I was so furious that I ran to a stationary store to buy a paper board and colored papers to concoct a “Park Must Resign” protest sign.

I was studying in the US but still held the sign in front of the university’s main library. No one, besides Koreans, even knew who Park was. I still felt like I was participating in a historical movement.

8 years have passed, and I don’t care about politics anymore. Being obsessed with the news for 15 years only caused anxiety and helplessness. Instead of feeling angry about another political scandal, I now try my best to look for timeless wisdom in books.

Watching a bunch of politicians quarreling with each other is never worth my time. My goal is to disconnect myself from politics for a long time until I forget who’s on which side.

I wanted to keep them as much as possible. With Mom’s help, I tried on all the clothes and brought many of them to my house.

His pants are a little too short, so I pretend they’re ankle-length pants. Some sleeves are short, but I wear them as 3/4 sleeve jackets. The size is not perfect, but I still love how comfy they are. Dad certainly had great taste in clothing. In terms of fashion, he and I value nothing but practicality.

Inheriting Dad’s collection has pushed me to believe in the importance of minimalism. I no longer think of buying more clothes. Seeing the aftermath of Dad’s passing, I realized I don’t want my future self to feel sorry about the stuff I’ve accumulated.

Wearing Dad’s clothes became my first step towards a simpler life.

On the news, Korea is famous for its world’s lowest fertility rate, exceptionally high suicide rate, and chaebol-controlled economy. According to these statistics, Korea doesn’t even look like an okay place to live.

So, what makes Korea appealing? I can come up with a couple answers.

• It’s remarkably safe to live in Korea. I can walk around alone at 2AM without worrying about my safety. Surveillance cameras are everywhere, and no one dares to steal others’ stuff. In a coffee shop, people leave their laptops on a table when they go to the bathroom. It’s rare to find homeless people and extremely difficult to even see a gun. Even if someone pulls out a gun in a crowded street, Koreans will walk past thinking it’s just a toy. 119(ambulance) and 112(police) emergency services are reliable as well.

• Koreans are friendly towards English-speaking foreigners. Almost all Koreans have spent numerous years studying English. If English is your native language, many Koreans will look up to you simply because you speak the language they’ve tried so hard to master. As an English speaker, you don’t have to learn Korean to live here. Ironically, Koreans will blame themselves for not understanding your English.

Watching Zong-ka and Ban-ban eating, playing, and sleeping is one of the greatest joys.

I had never raised a cat until I met my wife. When I first met Zong-ka in my wife’s tiny studio, Zong-ka was so scared of me that he ran straight into the bathroom. I remember feeling terrible because I knew Zong-ka hated touching the water. Three years later, I wish I could say he loves me, but at least he doesn’t hate me anymore. We’re good friends.

7 months ago, I spotted Ban-ban crawling through a six-lane road near my house. I was waiting for a green light. As soon as I could go across, I ran to check on the cat, hiding under a bush on the edge of the road. She seemed unharmed. I slowly approached to hold her with two hands. I didn’t have much time to think, but I was sure she would run away. However, she didn’t even flinch. I hugged her tightly in my arms and walked fast to my house. That’s how Ban-ban became a new member of our house.

All four of us fall asleep on the same bed. In the morning, we humans wake up to the sound of our cats. At night, the cats always wait by the door when we humans return home after long hours working at the restaurant. I never get tired of living with these two cats.

Every morning, when I wake up, I grab my phone immediately and reread the post I published the night before. With half-closed eyes, I fix a few words and then start brushing my teeth.

I enjoy the seemingly endless process of revising. Some might argue spending energy on the next post is wiser, but I can’t let go of my past writings. Even if no one’s reading, I revisit my old posts and start working on them.

More views are great, but better writings are more important. To me, revising is like cleaning a house. It’s the least I can do to welcome my guests.

Koreans are raised to be test-takers. Teenagers battle for a better score on a college entrance exam. College graduates devote themselves to all kinds of eligibility tests. In this land, too many people spend years beating others on competitive exams to be accountants, government workers, public school teachers, real estate agents, and journalists.

Steeped in zero-sum games, it’s difficult to realize there’s a way out of the competition. When tests are the ultimate purpose of life, getting into a med school or law school becomes the highest form of achievement. To test-takers, success forever means winning over others.

I’m not a test-taker. I don’t want to be trapped in binary thinking. The world is much more than a community of winners and losers. There’s no need to be jealous of other restaurant owners’ and writers’ accomplishments. Their success doesn’t affect my craft. I only need to carry on with a “win and help others win” mindset.

A year ago, when looking for a paid VPN service, I searched “the best VPN” and read some recommendation articles(aka paid promotions). I didn’t spend enough time researching the best quality and reliability. I only cared about comparing the prices of different services. I assumed all VPN companies provided similar features and never thought software could shut down without giving any clear explanations.

Clearly, I made a dumb mistake. I hope not, but I can’t even be sure if WeVPN did anything malicious with the users’ data.

I’ve realized that I need to pay more attention to the longevity of the apps and software I subscribe to. It’s essential to check whether the service updates its features frequently while listening to customer feedback. For instance, WeVPN’s development had been stopped for a year. Not surprising. On the other hand, I trust Bear Blog because I can see that Herman, Bear Blog’s founder, has been dedicated to his philosophy of building the service to last forever.

It’s difficult to be up-to-date with every software. The easiest way to protect oneself from this kind of incident would be following individuals who’re genuinely passionate about sharing quality information. For example, it’s been helpful to follow The Privacy Dad to learn more about online privacy. Thanks to him, I’m now subscribed to a more reliable service.

Who should I follow? Email me if you have recommendations.

Almost all characters inside struggle with depression, loneliness, or anger. Money doesn’t solve any of these problems. Getting parents’ approval, raising a child, believing in God, meeting a therapist, and starting new relationships don’t help either.

For Danny(Steven Yeun) and Amy(Ali Wong), self-remedy begins when they decide to be fully vulnerable in front of their beloved ones. Danny to his younger brother and Amy to her husband; the two characters confess their unforgivable mistakes.

Unveiling the ugly truth creates a mess. Danny and Amy both lose the trust of the people they care about the most. Regardless of these consequences, Danny and Amy feel relieved because they no longer have to lie anymore. They’re finally free from the obsession with perfectionism.

I wonder if I’m making the same mistakes as Danny and Amy. Do I want other people to think I’m flawless? Once in a while, it might be helpful to check if I’m desperately pretending to be someone else.

There’s lots of ways to be, as a person. And some people express their deep appreciation in different ways. But one of the ways that I believe people express their appreciation to the rest of humanity is to make something wonderful and put it out there. - Steve Jobs

When I was looking for a job, I never thought I was capable of creating my own product. I could only imagine becoming a product manager at a fast-growing startup in Seoul.

It’s only been three years, but my life’s totally different from what I envisioned. I run a restaurant with my wife and serve sandwiches for a living. This change could sound like a downgrade from an office job, but we always tell each other we’re the happiest couple on earth.

Every day, customers from all over the world visit our restaurant. Not because we have Michelin stars but because everything we serve is vegan. Many of them express how hard it was to follow a vegan/vegetarian diet in Jeju and tell us their appreciation for what we’re doing. When we hear this kind of customer feedback, we realize our business is creating a positive impact on our community.

In addition to running a restaurant, we also write a weekly newsletter on our website. Here, we share our thoughts, recipes, and tips for free. The website is not just a hobby. As much as we care about serving great food, we care about creating high-quality content. That’s why we’ve published more than 80 posts in a year.

We’ve seen people using our recipes for their restaurants or parties. We’ve read heartfelt comments saying our writings inspired them to be more authentic to themselves. Through our website, we’ve also met small business owners from all over the country. Even though these people have never visited our restaurant, we’ve built meaningful relationships with them.

I’m doing my part for humanity by making something wonderful.

It’s been six years since I graduated from college, and I’m still unsure if I can think critically to solve complex problems. Without a doubt, I’ve realized a bubble filled with similar people is possibly the worst environment to learn “how to think.”

Because my wife and I are the only ones running the restaurant, the service tends to get sloppy when people rush in simultaneously. We always try our best to interact with the customers; however, when the orders get stacked, we become sandwich-making robots grilling veggies and pouring drinks as fast as possible.

We never wanted CHEESYLAZY(our sandwich shop) to be another version of McDonald’s. Selling more sandwiches and making more money was never our motto. We wanted to start a “too small to fail” type of business so that we could forget about the “growth at all costs” mentality. That’s why we spent months searching for the cheapest property.

More time invested into the restaurant means less time for learning and relaxing. When the number of guests doubles, we must put much more time into prepping ingredients and cleaning dishes. This means I’ll be too tired to spend enough time writing my daily post on this blog. I won’t be able to have enough playtime with my cats, and I won’t be able to finish reading any books on my Kindle. Suddenly, my life gets very boring.

Again, I’m beyond grateful to see so many people in our restaurant. We used to have 3 guests per day, so things are much better now. However, I wonder if the restaurant will be able to survive if we continue beating ourselves to serve more customers.

It’s joyful to serve the first group of people. They’re the reason why I love this job. When these visitors open the door, the space brightens instantly. I feel so lucky to have such guests at the restaurant every day.

Dealing with the second group of people is a bit tricky. These people treat restaurant workers like ordering machines. I say hello, thank you, and goodbye but no answers. The restaurant is often merely a prop for their Instagram. I try to be indifferent, but it’s not that easy to be 100% positive.

I’d like to belong to the first group. Not only inside a restaurant but everywhere I meet strangers. Smiling has the power to make someone’s day better. Why not use it?

I feel great that I’m actually writing instead of complaining about how I want to “create more instead of watching Netflix.” At the same time, I’m a little worried this blog would only be seen as my personal diary.

What should the readers expect from this website? What would be the reason to subscribe to my writings? Do these questions even matter?

It’s a conundrum. It’s difficult to write without thinking about other people’s opinions. I publish whatever I can think of but still want you to think I’m a smart guy sharing something useful.

I had recently moved to the U.S. with my sisters. I was a 9th grader back then. I didn’t know how to speak English or have any friends. I always had a stern face and ate alone in the cafeteria. Sometimes, I skipped lunch and hid in the school bathroom. I was terrified of being alone.

From where I lived, getting to the school took about an hour and a half. I had to wake up at 5:30 to catch an old minivan. When I hopped in the car, I took my iPod Mini out and played the first track of your album Playing the Piano.

I closed my eyes and listened to you playing piano. I could even hear you stepping on the pedals. I felt like your music understood what I was feeling. I was an angry kid who occasionally went outside the apartment to scream as loud as he could. No one could dare, but you let me calm down and find peace.

I wish I could tell you how grateful I am. Your music changed my life.

Rest in peace, Ryuichi Sakamoto.

What does “best” mean anyway? I’m a restaurant owner and blogger. Do I have to be a world-famous restauranteur and writer to be considered successful? Or is becoming the country’s favorite enough? How about the best in town? Being the most talented baker in my family wouldn’t be satisfying, right?

Not everyone can be Serena Williams at their job. Metrics for success should feel manageable. It takes time, but knowing one’s values might be the most rewarding endeavor.

Discovering the works of David Chang and Salman Rushdie should not make me feel small. No one’s asking me to mimic their lives. My life’s all set as long as I’m curious, optimistic, and peaceful.

I don’t have to be called “the best” to be happy.

I cry a lot because I miss people. I cry a lot because they die, and I can’t stop them. They leave me, and I love them more. I’m finding out as I’m aging that I’m in love with the world. - Maurice Sendak

My life’s already successful.

I’m too lucky to have beautiful relationships with my wife, family, and friends. How about the customers who leave thank you notes at my restaurant? How about my two lovely cats sleeping next to me? The fact that you’re reading this from all over the world is a miracle.

I need to make sure my mind doesn’t fall into a nasty trap. It’s so easy to dismiss the world’s wonders. Once in a while, I need to look around. I’m in love with this world.

My father passed away three months after my wife and I opened our little sandwich shop.

My mother had only one wish: to visit their son’s restaurant with her husband. However, Dad was unable to recover from major surgeries. He died without seeing his son’s biggest achievement.

After Dad’s passing, I put pictures of him around the restaurant. For example, one of his old identification photos is next to the ovens I use every morning.

In the photo, he looks healthy, spirited, and ambitious. Whenever I gaze at his face, I realize he was younger than me when he had his first child. At my age, he could never dream of starting his own business. For the family, he had to put aside his dreams.

When he got married to Mom, both of them planned to go study in another country. The bigger world was their destination. They believed leaving Korea would be a wise choice for their future.

The couple couldn’t study abroad as they wished. However, 20 years later, all of their children had a chance to be educated in the United States. Their dreams came true based on a generation of effort.

Dad is gone, but I often imagine him walking into the restaurant. “This is the best sandwich I’ve ever had.” He gives me a signature thumbs-up. I smile back and hug him to say thank you. Soon, our interaction ends, and I confront reality.

A few days ago, his fever became so high that his wife had no choice but to call an ambulance. The trip to the hospital felt like a one-way road; everyone in the car knew that he would not be able to come back to his own house.

People around Shinjae used to praise his relentless optimism. However, lying on a bed for two months while undergoing two dangerous surgeries transformed him into a dejected pessimist. No one could blame him for the dramatic change.

“I can’t remember things clearly,” Shinjae told the nurse beside him. Ever since the first surgery to remove tumors on the spine, at least five different drugs had filled his body. A patch on his chest, daily injections, and narcotic medications were potent but insufficient to keep him at peace.

Past few days, Shinjae had many visitors. His brother, sisters, and friends all had to hold tears because they sensed it would be their last chance to be with him.

Shinjae could hardly eat, talk, or think. However, he somehow managed to tell the visitors a few words. “My great hero,” Shinjae said to his younger brother. “I’m happy to see you,” he told his old friend.

Shinjae’s children took turns spending a night with him. Every night, a child cared for him suffering from fever, hiccups, and sputum. Shinjae barely talked, and his jaundiced eyes could not see much. He still nodded slightly to communicate appreciation for the children’s presence.

The time was coming to an end. His doctor suggested that the disease was incurable, and he would now be required to move to a hospice facility in two weeks. The family wished to keep him in the same room, but the hospital mandated all patients to clear the space in four weeks.

“The hospice facility has a terrible reputation. I don’t want my dad to spend his last moment inside a cramped room.” Shinjae’s son said to the caregiver next to him. The son could not bear that the doctor would send the dying patient to a worse environment. His father’s life deserved much more respect than that.

Under the influence of strong painkillers, Shinjae could nonetheless hear the conversation between his son and the caregiver. His finger twitched a little bit. He had to choose while he could.

Shinjae felt his heartbeat and began to hold his breath. He mustered all of the energy to turn his head and took a last glance at his son. “I’m sorry,” Shinjae said quietly to everyone he could think of.

The monitor began to make a noise, and a nurse entered the room to check his vital signs. The son couldn’t do anything but tremble. Shinjae was now free from cancer.

“Give up trying to create something sophisticated,” I told myself. “Why not forget all those prescriptive ideas about ‘the novel’ and ‘literature’ and set down your feelings and thoughts as they come to you, freely, in a way that you like?” - Haruki Murakami

I believe in the art of persistence.

From now on, I’ll be publishing every single day. Mostly in English, but occasionally in Korean. No overarching theme. Whatever jumps to my mind, I’ll jot it down on this blog.

It doesn’t matter if the day’s writing is god-awful. This project is for my own benefit. Without this system, I’ll always find an excuse to lie on my bed and start doom-scrolling until my thumb hurts.

It’s time to wake up and create. This is the change my heart demands.

See you tomorrow.

Here’s a timeline of what happened.

• I decided to move all my crypto on Upbit to another wallet. No special reason. Just never really liked storing all my assets in the exchange. Can say that I was inspired by “not your keys, not your coins” ethos.
• On Upbit, I had withdrawn ~$3,000 total worth of ETH, BTC, SOL, MATIC, LINK. However, Upbit refused to approve my transactions. I waited a while, but the status kept saying “pending.”
• A manager from Upbit called me to verify my requests. Initially thought it was just another layer of security. He checked whether I could verify my name, birthday, email, and home address. Additionally, he asked me why I was moving my assets and to which address I’m sending them. I was a little annoyed about these questions but told him honestly that I just decided to store my coins in a personal wallet. Then he asked me multiple times whether I was being duped to send the assets to an unknown address. I said there was nothing to worry about. The manager replied that he would be sharing the info with another team to make sure Upbit can confirm the validity of the requests. I said sure and the call ended.
• After a few minutes, Upbit sent me a message saying I needed to sign a legal waiver form, take a picture with it (showing my face), and submit the photo to Upbit’s customer support channel if I wanted to send my currencies to another wallet.

As of 2023, Upbit owns about 80% of the regulated crypto market in S. Korea. Koreans have stored billions of dollars worth of assets without realizing that the exchange could easily deny the transfer of their own assets. I understand that there are lots of scams and criminal activities happening, and Upbit has the responsibility to prevent any malicious attempts. However, that does not mean that all users must be forced to sign a legal document and take a picture with it. Transferring one’s own money should not be this difficult.

From this experience, I have learned one important lesson. For Upbit, all of its depositors are now potential criminals. To truly own your crypto, I advise you to first get your coins off the exchange.

I find myself getting anxious when I’m focusing on one job at a moment. I have to listen to a podcast while walking, read an article while sipping coffee, and watch YouTube while playing with cats. It seems like my brain has learned to fake maximum productivity all the time.

Why can’t I just do one job at a time? It must be so easy to pay full attention to simple acts like walking, watching, and eating. However, it’s painfully difficult to be 100% aware of the present moment.

Maybe social media is to blame, but I’m the one responsible to take care of my mind’s well-being. I’m the one in charge of fixing bad habits and constructing better systems.

So, I’ve made a few promises myself to be more human and less computer-like.

• Stop switching. Finish the job before moving on to a new one.
• Be aware of the addiction. Notice the urge to check ’likes’ and ‘comments.’ Tech products have become drugs, and I hate to be an addict.
• Consume long-form content. My attention span should be capable of understanding a book instead of a tweet.

As Anthony De Mello says, “You become happy by contact with reality. That’s what brings happiness, a moment-by-moment contact with reality.”

StarCraft is more than just a game

When I was in elementary school, every single guy in my class was in love with this computer game called StarCraft. I remember rushing to a PC bang every day after school to spend hours and hours playing the game. The parents weren’t so happy, but StarCraft was bigger than any other sport. It felt like a requirement to make friends in school.

Professional gamers like Lim Yo-hwan and Kang Min were my idols. I wanted to play like them, so I even “studied” their strategies to be a better player than my friends. Unfortunately, I don’t think I was considered “a good StarCraft player” in school (I was just about the average). Too many kids were putting serious effort into the game.

At the 2005 StarCraft League Final in Busan.

If you’ve played games like League of Legends and Overwatch, you’ve probably seen Koreans winning Esports championships. So, instead of talking about the great players like Faker, I’d like to unravel the unprecedented success of StarCraft in Korea.

Korean financial crisis

During the first half of the 1990s, the South Korean economy was growing at about 5~8% every year. Lots of “experts” were optimistic about the country’s economy in the future.

However, in 1997, the country faced a load of economic problems during the Asian financial crisis — Major companies and banks had to file for bankruptcy and millions of people lost their jobs due to the economic instability.

Wait, why talk about the financial crisis? Because it allowed PC bang to spread all over the country. Those who got kicked out of their companies still had to do something to make ends meet. And lots of them chose to open up a PC bang because it only required an empty space full of computers and chairs. It definitely seemed like a safer investment than owning a restaurant.

In addition, because PC bang charged about 1,000 won (~$1) per hour, playing games at PC bang was one of the cheapest options for entertainment. Despite the devastating consequences, the financial crisis enabled the PC bangs to reach all corners. In just 4 years after the crisis, there were more than 20,000 PC bangs around the country.

StarCraft meets PC bang

PC bang in the early 1990s.

StarCraft’s rising popularity was the core engine behind the PC bangs’ success. Back then, 9 out of 10 people in PC bangs were playing StarCraft. PC bangs existed for a single game, and StarCraft benefited from this relationship. For StarCraft, there was no need for advertisements or promotions, PC bangs were serving as the game’s unofficial PR agency.

Other reasons

There were several other elements that contributed to StarCraft’s mega-success:

1. StarCraft’s Battle.net capability could really flourish under the Korean government’s aggressive investment into a high-speed internet network. If you’ve never heard of Battle.net, it basically enabled gamers to play against each other through the Internet. The feature sounds like common sense today, but it revolutionized the gaming culture in Korea. It’s a lot more interesting when you can play with an actual person instead of a bot.

2. In 1999 after the financial crisis, TV producer Hwang Hyeong-jun chose to host a StarCraft competition on TV for the first time in the world. Hwang says that almost all shows had to stop producing because of the budget cut, but he realized “game broadcasts didn’t require much production fees.” After Hwang’s decision, the StarCraft league in Korea continued for 13 years on channels like On Game Net. For 13 years, game channels were the backbone of StarCraft’s popularity.

3. A number of players proved that playing for an Esports team is just like playing for a professional soccer team. Especially some players like Lim Yo-hwan became so famous that people said “Even if you’ve never played StarCraft, you know who Lim is.” Because of these star players, there were rivalries, dramas, and stories in the leagues. People still talk about the great rivalry between Lim and Hong Jin-ho.

If you’re curious to know more about Esports in Korea, I highly recommend watching this documentary on YouTube.

Hiking in Korea

Mountains are everywhere in S. Korea — according to the Korea Forest Service (산림청), Korea has 4,440 mountains in its territory. Do Koreans like visiting these mountains though? The answer is HELL YEAH.

Koreans visit the mountains for many reasons: to exercise, sightsee, and even socialize. Anywhere from Gangwon to Jeju, hiking is arguably one of the most popular activities in this country.

The hiking outfits are not just for hiking

Even if it’s your first time visiting Korea, it’d only take a few hours to notice how common these hiking clothes are. Especially for many middle-aged ajummas and ajeossis, bright jackets and active pants have been their favorite outfits.

However, some people are not too proud of this unique culture among middle-aged Koreans. For example, a travel agency asked Korean tourists to “avoid wearing hiking clothes in the beautiful cities of Europe.” I personally think the fashion is awesome. Why would you think it’s embarrassing?

Anyways, Korea’s outdoor fashion market is considered the second biggest in the world. Particularly from 2004 to 2014, the market size grew from less than US$ 500 million to US$ 6 billion.

Above all, The North Face had the biggest success during this period — reporting US$ 500 million in yearly revenue from 2011 to 2014.

The force behind The North Face’s success

The North Face was ahead of the game because its style appealed to teens and 20s. For example, in the early 2010s, the brand’s goose down and puffer jackets were so popular that teens were wearing them as their school uniforms.

However, the jackets’ enormous popularity among teenagers became a widespread concern in society. There were reports that the students who couldn’t afford the jacket were getting bullied in school. In another case, a 15-year-old boy was dragged and got beaten by five other teens who wanted to steal the jacket.

It’s hard to believe, but buying a jacket somehow became a matter of survival in some schools.

How much is your jacket?

The news about “The North Face Hierarchy” in middle schools forced tons of parents to buy these US$ 200~700 jackets for their children. Clearly, for many teenagers, the jacket meant more than just clothing — it was a brand-new symbol of wealth and status.

Some people argued that Korea’s highly competitive education system made teens obsessed with anything that boosts one’s self-esteem. But the education system cannot be the sole reason. Kids learn fast from the adults around them.

One time I was in an indoor pool and overheard a conversation between two little teenagers. I was shocked because they were talking about the price of their houses and the future of Seoul’s real estate market.

I’m sure these teens weren’t genuinely interested in the housing market. They observed their parents and simply learned from them to play the same status game.

When one thought spending $$$ for a jacket seemed too much…

Let’s talk about Moncler’s success in Korea. In 2012, a picture of President Lee Myung-bak’s granddaughter wearing an expensive Moncler jacket became a viral topic in the media. Hundreds of articles were titled ‘The Grand Daughter of Lee Ends The North Face Hierarchy.”

Since then, Moncler’s yearly revenue grew from around US$ 40 million to US$ 130 million in 2019. In department stores, Moncler puffer jackets, at US$ 2,500, often get sold out in September (Korea gets cold in November).

Back to the real hiking clothes. “The North Face Hierarchy” has vanished since 2015. At the same time, the outdoor fashion market in Korea has shrunk to about US$ 3 billion. The situation seems pretty dire, but outdoor clothing brands are still trying hard to attract young customers.

Millennials are interested in hiking

Due to COVID-19, many Koreans could not go to indoor gyms and other sports facilities for a long time. Just like almost every in the world today, Koreans were getting quarantine fatigue.

To overcome the tiredness, more Koreans began to visit the mountains to take a walk and get some fresh air. In 2020, the Korea Park Service published that the number of visitors to major mountains like Bukhansan in Seoul increased by 20 percent.

Black Yak, a Korean outdoor clothing brand, knew this was a great opportunity. Black Yak created an online hiking community called “Black Yak Alpine Club” and released an app that lets users share pictures of the mountains.

Black Yak Alpine Club has been a great success — In 2020, there were about 40,000 members, and the number became more than 200,000 members after a year. The brand has also created viral content like “100 Best Mountains of Korea” to challenge hikers to visit and post pictures of all of them.

This year, Black Yak is expected to generate more revenue than The North Face to become the biggest outdoor clothing brand in Korea. Thanks to this new trend, hiking is no longer for ajummas and ajeossis only.

Due to the influx of Millennials, outdoor fashion is evolving to embrace leggings and tights. For example, Black Yak’s hiking clothes look like workout clothes from Nike or Adidas Originals.

P.S. Skip Seoul Tower, visit a mountain

About 5 years ago, I was a part-time worker at the famous N Seoul Tower. I enjoyed interacting with tourists from all over the world, but I also thought visiting the tower was the most “unKorean” thing you can do as a tourist.

If my friend’s visiting Korea for the first time, I would recommend skipping the famous attractions (except Gyeongbokgung maybe) and go to the mountains like Bukhansan or Chenggyesan.

Take the subway to get there in the morning and buy some Gimbap and water before hiking. You don’t even need to know the route. Just follow the pros wearing bright jackets and hiking shoes. Stumble upon a Buddhist temple and make a wish in front of stone stacks.

After the long hike, don’t forget to finish off the day with some makgeolli and jeon.

Trust me. Skip the damn tower and visit the mountains.

If you’ve never heard of him; Baek Jong-won is the founder of an international restaurant company called The Born. The Born is a major player in the South Korean dining market with over 20 brands and 1,500 restaurants.¹

There’s no doubt that Baek is an outstanding businessperson. Fast-casual Korean, BBQ, Korean Chinese, bibimbap, udon, etc. You name a popular cuisine in Korea and the guy has created a successful brand already.

However, Baek’s restaurants are only a fraction of his far-reaching influence in Korea. To really understand him, we need to talk about his recipes, TV show appearances, and even philosophy.

Recipes

If chefs’ recipes are for professional cyclists, my recipes are like a bicycle with training wheels. - Baek Jong-won

Lots of Koreans, including myself, follow these steps when cooking a meal:

1. Choose what I want to eat.

2. Search for Baek’s recipe online.

‘백종원 레시피’ (Baek Jong-won recipe) has become a genre itself. Why? Some notable characteristics, besides his likable personality, have contributed to the unprecedented success of his recipes.

1. Easy. No need for special ingredients and techniques. Baek’s recipes are meant to serve those who are unfamiliar with cooking. In other words, Baek doesn’t give a shit about “a proper way to cut an onion” or “the healthiest meal to prepare for a marathon.” His goal is to teach you the easiest way to cook up some tasty food. For example, he never asks you to use “5 grams of minced garlic.” Baek just tells you to use “a spoon of minced garlic.” Is it the most precise method? No. But everyone can easily understand what’s going on.

2. Affordable. Just like The Born’s restaurants that serve comfort food at cheap prices, Baek’s recipes never use a “gourmet” ingredient. Most of the ingredients in his recipes are available in convenient stores. He even releases a new recipe when an ingredient like green onion (대파) becomes extremely cheap due to the oversupply. That’s why people on a tight budget follow his recipes religiously.

3. Reliable. Baek is not a chef but an incredible food researcher. The man has studied so much about food that he is known as a “walking food dictionary.” His vast knowledge about food history and restaurant business has enabled shows like Alley Restaurant and Street Food Fighter.

Baek’s recipes from his books, tv-shows, and YouTube have inspired millions of people to stop ordering and start cooking. I would argue that his recipes are the biggest force that shapes Koreans’ eating habits.

TV Shows

I’m not a celebrity. I’m a food entrepreneur. I appear on these TV shows because I want people to know more about the food they eat. When people understand how the food is made, they begin to appreciate what they order at restaurants. - Baek Jong-won

Baek doesn’t enjoy being a mega-famous celebrity in Korea, but he has never stopped appearing on TV since The Real Taste of Korea first aired in 2010.

The media is Baek’s powerful leverage

Baek’s influence on Korean media began to skyrocket when he appeared on My Little Television on MBC in 2015.² There were so many guests on the program, but Baek’s cooking show was the primary reason behind MLT’s success.

Just a few examples of Baek’s huge impact in 2015:

• Supermarkets ran out of minced pork when he came up with multi-purpose soy sauce 만능간장.
• The sales of canned fish increased by 14 times when Baek introduced canned fish recipes.
• The Born reported 34% revenue growth in the year.

After My Little Television’s enormous success, Baek continued to host shows such as The Homemade Food Master from 2015 to 2017, Alley Restaurant from 2018, and Street Food Fighter from 2018.³ No need to know what these shows are about. The argument here is that Baek is, at least in Korea, bigger than Gordon Ramsay in Hell’s Kitchen combined with Anthony Bourdain in Part Unknown.

It’s now difficult to name one successful cooking show in Korea without the presence of Baek. In these shows, Baek is the one that helps restaurant owners to revitalize their business, promotes the consumption of overproduced farm products, and introduces unfamiliar cuisines around the world. He does it all and no one dares to replace him.

Not just the TV shows though. When Baek started his YouTube Channel in 2019, he only needed 3 days to reach a million subscribers (now at around 5 million). Baek’s YouTube videos mainly showcase his signature recipes (usually have subtitles in 5 different languages) and Baek’s advice for fellow restaurant owners.

He constantly says he is neither a chef nor a celebrity, and this belief has prevented him from appearing on shows that have nothing to do with food and restaurants. However, Baek understands the power of media as a leverage. Through the shows, books, and even cartoons, he’s become a man that cannot be introduced by a single title. He’s now simply known as Baek Jong-won.

Philosophy

You need direct experience to be really curious about the problem. Start small now and you’ll be able to find your uniqueness. - Baek Jong-won

When Baek was only 9 years old, his dream was to become a wealthy mushroom farmer. When he was 12, he collected glasses with a handcart to sell them to a junk shop. Before starting college, he worked as a used car dealer. He worked hard. When he was in university, he already owned 3 different pubs.

Despite all the success, when Baek graduated from college, his family got so worried about his plan to take over a nightclub and eventually forced him to join the army as a ROTC cadet.

Four years later, Baek’s career as a restauranteur finally began with a ssambap (Korean rice wraps) restaurant in 1993.⁴ At that time, Baek was not too serious about the restaurant business. Instead, he was more interested in becoming a world-class timber trader. Baek says, “With the restaurant, I only wanted to make a lot of money.”

Failures

After Baek had invested so much into the timber business, IMF financial crisis took place in 1997 to make Baek 1.5 million dollars in debt. This failure made him feel so hopeless that he decided to kill himself in Hong Kong.⁵

When arrived in Hong Kong, Baek realized drowning himself in the river is not a good idea since he’s a decent swimmer. Also, jumping from a skyscraper was impossible because he could not even access the rooftops. So, while in Hong Kong, Baek failed to commit suicide but ended up eating tons of great food.

Eventually, the food he ate in Hong Kong inspired Baek to realize the fact that he still owned a restaurant to pay back the debt. Baek reignited his passion for food when he failed to end his life abroad.

Back in Korea, Baek began to convince the creditors to wait until his restaurant becomes successful. And, as we all know, he only needed a few years to fulfill his promise. His company The Born began to launch successful brands such as Hanshin Pocha in 1998, Bornga in 2002, Paik’s BBQ in 2005, and Paik’s Coffee in 2006.

Baek’s wisdom

Do what you like. My work doesn’t feel like work. I don’t care how much time I spend thinking about food. I just feel so happy. - Baek Jong-won

Baek has shared his insight through several essays and videos. These are some of his ideas that have resonated with me:

1. Be genuine — “You don’t have to force yourself to be kind to the customers. Be kind when your heart tells you to.”

2. Don’t overthink — “Don’t drown yourself with the numbers and market analysis. When testing a new brand, I ask my employees to raise hands if they think the price and quality are satisfactory. Be simple. I never think too much.”

3. Customer experience is multifaceted — “When someone likes your restaurant. The taste of your food can only be 30% of the reason. 70% of the reason is the restaurant’s ambiance.”

4. Think big — “I have so many brands that have never been shown to the public. Before launching a restaurant, we aim to have 2-300 restaurants all over the country … Don’t ask your friends’ opinions. Think about the people who would actually appreciate your business.”

5. Conviction matters — “Don’t invite your family when you open a restaurant. They’ll try to contribute by saying something like ‘too salty’ or ‘too sweet.’ You must be aware that every individual tastes food differently. Just believe in yourself.”

6. Have skin in the game — “Successful restaurant owners I know have never received help from the business consultants. The consultants will tell you that they worked for these great brands, but they’ve never built anything on their own.”

Baek’s legacy does not end here

I never knew I would think like this today. I originally started my business to make money. When people started to give compliments, I began to care about what others think about me. I suddenly wanted to become a role model. - Baek Jong-won

Once thought of killing himself, Baek continues to launch new restaurant brands, host successful tv shows, and donate hundreds and thousands of dollars for low-income households and flood victims.⁶

Baek’s enthusiasm inspires me because he has created a new market that cannot be replaced by others. Will Baek be successful forever? Nobody knows. But, Baek sure will be one the happiest Koreans as long as he can build something out of his passion for food.

The first McDonald’s in Korea was opened in 1988. Throughout the opening day of the first McDonald’s, the restaurant’s 140 workers had to serve more than 3,000 customers.¹ The Korean people’s passion for Big Mac happened more than 30 years ago, and now you can find more than 400 McDonald’s in this country.

It’s not just McDonald’s though. There are now hundreds of other fast-food chains all over the country, such as Burger King, Lotteria, and No Brand Burger. For Koreans today, there should be nothing exciting left for ordering American-style burgers & fries.

However, the brands like Shake Shack, Eggslut, and In-N-Out Burger have somehow managed to create the same level of hype that worked for McDonald’s in 1988.

Why? Let’s first check what happened when these restaurants opened their first spot in Korea.

Shake Shack

On July 22nd, 2016, Shake Shack opened its doors in Gangnam district of Seoul. The city’s excitement was through the roof; there were even people waiting the night before(just like how people used to sleep in front of an Apple Store).²

The line did not become any shorter for months; 4,000-5,000 customers had to wait at least an hour to experience the shack. As a result, in the opening year, Shake Shack Gangnam reported daily selling of 3,000-3,500 burgers, becoming the largest revenue-generator among 120 Shake Shack branches around the world.

Eggslut

Four years later, another sandwich chain from America named Eggslut arrived at COEX mall located in Gangnam district of Seoul.³ On the first day, when the doors were not even open, there were already about three hundred people waiting outside.

In 2021, the hype continued at Eggslut’s second branch in the brand new department store called the Hyundai Seoul. Hundreds of people flocked to the place for the famous egg sandwich. And of course, everyone had to wait at least 1-2 hours.

During the first week, Eggslut’s second location sold more than 2,000 Fairfax Sandwiches every day. Of course, the egg sandwich place has instantly become the most successful restaurant in the mall.

In-N-Out

In-N-Out Burger does not even have a branch in Korea, but the chain occasionally opens up a pop-up store in Seoul.⁴ For example, in 2019, the restaurant opened a 3-hour pop-up store in Gangnam district.

This time, the line began to form around 5:30 AM and there were already more than three hundred people waiting around 11 AM. In-N-Out had prepared around 250 burgers for the day, so the pop-up could not even last 3 hours.

Let’s pause for a moment to underline the patterns.

We’ve observed that McDonald’s, Shake Shack, and Eggslut all opened their first locations in Gangnam district, made hundreds of people wait in line, and created the initial hype to fuel the rapid growth.⁵

Do these patterns only apply to those fast-food chains that serve burgers and fries?

Enters Blue Bottle

Cafes are literally everywhere in this country. According to the data from 2020, there are 83,692 coffee shops in Korea, and 18,535 of them are located in Seoul.⁶ Because of this extremely competitive environment, about 50% of new cafes close their business within three years.

No doubt, there are a lot of great coffee shops that brew excellent coffee for a reasonable price.⁷ However, none of the Korean-born cafes can expect to create a line as long as that of the first Blue Bottle Coffee.

In May 2019, a long line began to form around 5 AM outside the first Blue Bottle Coffee in Seoul. Some people had brought blankets and pillows so they could be one of the first to enter the store. When the shop opened its doors at 8 AM, there were more than 200 people in line and the number grew to over 400 within an hour.

Reportedly, the customers spent more than ₩60,000,000(~$53,000) on the opening day alone, and this was the new sales record for the global brand that had 70 other branches in the U.S. and Japan.

Now, Blue Bottle has 7 different branches in Seoul, including the newest one near the second branch of Eggslut.

Tartine Bakery

Jan 2018. The opening day of Tartine Bakery Seoul

As of today, Tartine has 7 locations in the U.S.: four in Bay Area and three in LA. The bakery does not even have a branch in U.S. cities like Portland, Seattle, and New York.

Anyways, instead of expanding nationally, Tartine chose Korea to be the next ground for its business. In other words, young Korean chaebols were able to convince the bakery to open up spots in their country.

When the bakery opened its doors in Hannam-dong, every single piece of bread in the store was sold out within hours.⁸ And now, Tartine has 6 different locations in Seoul.

Randy’s Donuts

In August 2019, the first Randy’s Donuts Korea was open in Jeju. Now the donut chain has three different locations in Seoul, Daegu, and Jeju. And of course, you always have to wait in line for at least 20-30 minutes to taste some of the American-style donuts.

Tiger Sugar

Tiger Sugar, a Taiwanese bubble tea chain famous for its brown sugar boba, entered Korea in 2019. And Tiger Sugar did not have to wait for success; for the entire summer in 2019, people waited at least 30 minutes to take a picture with the drink’s “tiger stripes.”

The story of Tiger Sugar demonstrates that non-American food chains can also create a similar type of hype as Shake Shack or Blue Bottle. In 2021, Tiger Sugar runs more than 40 different locations all over Korea.

Update: It’s been a year since I wrote this. Most of the Tiger Sugar stores have been closed in Korea. Maybe it is extremely difficult for a non-US brand to sustain the hype.

Finally.. Why?

Maybe showing off on Instagram gets all the credit for the success of these American(sometimes Taiwanese) “fine casual” chains in Korea. However, there must be many more factors that contribute to the psychology of people who are willing to sacrifice hours for a simple bite.

So, here’s my take:

• In 2018, more than 2 million people from Korea visited the U.S., and this number is almost twice as big as the data from 2010.⁹ What did these tourists do when they visited cities like LA and New York? I bet a lot of them went to Insta-famous spots like Eggslut and Shake Shack. And when these “former tourists” realized that these American chains were now available in Korea, they immediately brought up the “touristified” memories of these restaurants. And to relive the excitement he/she had as a tourist, waiting for hours could feel like a small investment.

• Korean society is pretty boring. The economy is controlled by a handful of chaebols like Samsung, Hyundai, and SK. The dream jobs for most youngsters are “stable” ones such as government workers, public school teachers, and whatever that is related to Samsung. In this homogeneous society, lots of people aspire to differentiate themselves from others. And becoming the first one to experience the hype could be one of the most accessible ways to do that.

• In Korea, the offline retail market is controlled by chaebol companies like Shinsegae, Lotte, and Hyundai. These conglomerates own fancy department stores, shopping malls, and hotels. However, we all know that a big portion of the offline business is going online. Then how do these luxurious shopping areas and hotels win the battle against each other? Seems like the answer is hosting Eggslut and Blue Bottle just like what Hyundai Seoul did this year. Not only Hyundai Seoul, but also places like Ryse Hotel, Central City, and Times Square Mall have embraced “fine casual” restaurants like Shake Shack and Tartine.

• Korean media is notorious for glamorizing American culture: whenever there’s a new plan to support startups, articles use the expressions like “Korean Silicon Valley” or “Korean Steve Jobs.” Renowned investors like John Lee and Kang Bang-cheon are called “Warren Buffett of Korea.” Harvard-polished books like Justice and Methods of Logic have stayed the best sellers for years. Parasite winning the Oscars is considered as an achievement that deserves national celebration.¹⁰ So yeah, when a restaurant group becomes successful in the U.S., Korean media and PR companies start to pump out phrases like “Apple of coffee industry,” “New York specialty,” and “the bread you must try before you die.” And these messages eventually spread a major FOMO alert.

Or these restaurants, cafes, and bakeries are actually worth waiting for.

(A Bit Serious) Parent Interview

Send this page to your parent. The answers will not be saved anywhere. Click “Show Results” to copy all your answers.

My father passed away two years ago. Here are some questions I wish I had asked him:

For your meaningful conversations.
Don’t forget! The answers must be as detailed as possible.

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25-06-29

Just finished The Bear seaon four. I really hope it comes back for another season. The Bear and Severance. These two are the absolute best.

25-06-18

Figure out a way to showcase digital products offline.

25-06-11

K-pop idols say 'fuck' to look cool, but can never say 'sibal' on camera.

25-06-11

If you're appointed by a politician, there's a high chance you're a piece of shit.

25-06-10

“I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound or stab us. If the book we're reading doesn't wake us up with a blow to the head, what are we reading for? So that it will make us happy, as you write? Good Lord, we would be happy precisely if we had no books, and the kind of books that make us happy are the kind we could write ourselves if we had to. But we need books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us. That is my belief.”

25-06-04

We crave meanings so we drift into another world.

25-06-02

It's difficult to say "democracy is working great" when elections feel like civil wars without guns.

25-06-02

How do I take a picture of the future?

25-05-31

Would Jesus dance to Gangnam Style?

25-05-31

Would Jesus eat kimchi?

25-05-29

Computer is my university.

25-05-27

After death, humans leave websites behind.

25-05-21

It's impossible to be at peace without working towards a goal.

25-05-20

Life's goal: never try to take advantage of other people's strength.

25-05-19

Popularity is a terrible metric to evaluate someone's personality.

25-05-19

I want to feel pure joy. Unmeddled, undisturbed, unpretentious feeling that fulfills without any external help.

25-05-18

You know when something's dipped in bull-shit when it's being talked about at every single table in a coffee shop.

25-05-18

Life is too short for two purposes. The happiest people I've met are the ones who spend their days with a single purpose.

25-05-17

"Distraction-free" is a new buzzword for non-believers.

25-05-16

Elon Musk’s fans say they love his first-principles approach, but they still won’t admit Bluesky’s UX is way better than X’s.

25-05-15

The three best (free/cheap) softwares for writing:
- MarkEdit https://github.com/MarkEdit-app/MarkEdit
- Plain Text Editor https://sindresorhus.com/plain-text-editor
- Enso https://enso.sonnet.io

The three best (expensive) softwares for writing:
- iA Writer https://ia.net/writer
- Bike https://www.hogbaysoftware.com/bike/
- Paper https://paper.pro

25-05-14

What’s your definition of success? Let me tell you mine:
- I get to spend most of my time reading and writing.
- I’ve helped my wife achieve her definition of success.
- I’ve maintained healthy relationships with my family and friends.
- I’ve avoided spending the last days of my life inside a hospital.
- People remember me as a kind person who tried his best to win and help others win.

25-05-13

Just some thoughts about the upcoming presidential election in South Korea:
– The candidates call each other “a monster,” and many of their followers think losing the election means the end of the country.
– Whoever becomes the next president, the other side of the political spectrum will likely try to impeach him again.
– The three major candidates all have the same slogan: “To the New Korea.” Ironically, these are people who’ve already had enough power to propose nationwide reform.
– The far-right strongly believes in election fraud, which means they won’t accept the result if their candidate loses.
– Many Korean voters casually say, “I won’t vote this time.” Seeing so many presidents end up in jail, it’s hard to blame them for losing faith in the system.
– Korea is facing serious issues, from the world’s lowest fertility rate to stagnant economic growth. It's funny how the candidates all propose investing heavily in AI to solve all kinds of social problems. Ask any AI developer in Korea, and they’ll tell you the country is far behind the U.S. and China.

25-05-12

What books will remain as "classics" when AI is capable of generating words with a human voice and unique style? Will people still want to write a book? What happens when humans can't discern the words of AI from the words of a human? What if readers acknowledge machine writers are funnier and smarter?

I worry the process of writing a draft and editing each word will become a noble hobby rather than a admirable work of art. Maybe the task of writers for the next 10 years should be about breaking rules and boundaries that no LLMs can imitate.  

25-05-11

I'll be in Shanghai in a couple weeks. Let me know if there's any recommendations!

25-05-11

Jung-hoo Lee, Yunchan Lim, Heungmin Son. I feel a sense of accomplishment watching these Koreans succeed in the big leagues. I have zero personal connection to them. Still, it’s as if I’m wired to feel proud of their success—despite my discomfort with nationalism and Korean propaganda.

25-05-10

I don't want my very own existence to cost money.

25-05-08

> One writes out of one thing only–one's own experience. Everything depends on how relentlessly one forces from this experience the last drop, sweet or bitter, it can possibly give. This is the only concern of the artist, to recreate out of the disorder of life that order which is art.

James Baldwin

25-05-08

This page is no longer password-protected.

25-05-08

약 20년 전, 중국으로 유학을 떠날 때 많은 어른들은 말했다. "20년만 기다려봐. 중국이 이제 미국처럼 커진다니까." 20년이 지나고 보니 어느정도 맞는 말이다. 아직도 중국을 무시하는 사람들이 있지만, 조금만 자세히 들여다봐도 중국의 기술력은 이미 저 멀리 앞서있다. DJI, Bambu Lab, DeepSeek과 같은 회사들을 봐라. Made in China의 무게감은 이미 달라졌다.

25-05-08

"그래도 백종원은 사업 잘 하잖아"라는 말을 했다. 그런데 과연 백종원은 사업을 잘할까? 사업을 잘한다는 것이 뭐지. 많은 사람의 삶을 망가뜨리더라도 돈만 많이 벌면 되는 것인가. 스스로 방송인이 아니라고 하지만, 어쩌면 백종원은 뛰어난 방송인이지 존경할만한 경영자는 아닐지도 모른다.

25-05-08

According to their colleagues, Steve was an asshole, Tim is an asshole, Bill is an asshole, and Mark is an asshole. Is it necessary for one to be an asshole to be a successful CEO?

25-05-08

3D 프린터에 관심이 생겼다. 무료로 사용하거나 배울 수 있는 공간이 작업실 근처다. 어메이징...

25-05-07

아침에 빵을 굽는 날이다. 오븐 소리가 난다. 저번에 오븐으로 보리굴비를 데워먹고 까먹고 트레이를 안 씻었다. 황급하게 설거지를 하고 빵을 굽는 중... 뒷정리를 잘해야하는데 이것 참 부끄럽구만.

빵이 잘 나오면 커피를 내려서 같이 먹어 볼 거다. 근데 빵이 식는 걸 기다릴 수 있을까... 커피 먼저 마실 수도 있다. 

25-05-06

없애야 하는 것이 있다. 지켜야 하는 것이 있다. 가볍게 살아야 한다. 다 버려야 한다. 

허영심이 눈에 보일 때가 있다. 어떻게든 잘난 면을 드러내서 우울함을 꾹꾹 밀어 넣으려는 발악이 눈에 보일 정도로 클 때가 있다.

25-05-06

This page is now password protected(very weak security, but enough to guard against 99%).

25-05-06

This page is discoverable, but I don't want to display the URL on my website. I want this page to be my private diary. For me to enjoy writing and expressing random, potentially shitty, thoughts.

25-05-06

This is an experimental page for me to start a microblogging page on my website. I'll be posting random short shower thoughts on this page. Both in Korean and English.

This page is updated on 2026-04-07.

• Publishing a weekly podcast called 강소팟. I’ve published 82 episodes so far.
• Preparing for an art book fair called Jeju Book Fail
• Trying to publish as much as possible on this website.
• Expecting a baby girl in one month.

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26-05-02
The Wisdom of Insecurity by Alan W. Watts
> Already man uses innumerable gadgets to displace the work done by bodily organs in the animals, and it would surely be in line with this tendency to externalize the reasoning functions of the brain-and thus hand over the government of life to electromagnetic monsters. In other words, the interests and goals of rationality are not those of man as a whole organism. If we are to continue to live for the future, and to make the chief work of the mind prediction and calculation, man must eventually become a parasitic appendage to a mass of clockwork.

앨런 W. 와츠, 『불안의 지혜』
> 인간은 이미 수많은 기계장치로 동물의 신체 기관이 하던 일을 대신하고 있다. 이러한 경향은 뇌의 추리 기능마저 외부화하는 쪽으로 이어질 것이며, 그 결과 삶의 통치를 전자기적 괴물들에게 넘기는 일이 될 것이다. 다시 말해, 이성의 이익과 목표는 인간이라는 전체 유기체의 목표와 일치하지 않는다. 만약 우리가 앞으로도 미래를 위해 살아가고, 정신의 주된 일을 예측과 계산으로 삼는다면, 인간은 결국 시계장치와 같은 큰 덩어리에 기생하는 부속물이 되고 말 것이다.

26-01-16

Megan O'Giblyn, Book: God, Human, Animal Machine

> The psychologist Robert Epstein challenged researchers at one of the world's most prestigious research institutes to try to account for human behavior without resorting to computational metaphors. They could not do it. The metaphor has become so pervasive, Epstein points out that "there is virtually no form of discourse about intelligent human behavior that proceeds without employing this metaphor, just as no form of discourse about intelligent human behavior could proceed in certain eras and cultures without reference to a spirit or deity."

> We invoke it every time we claim to be "processing" new ideas, or when we say that we have "stored" memories or are "retrieving" information from our brains.

> Today, as AI continues to blow past us in benchmark after benchmark of higher cognition, we quell our anxiety by insisting that what distinguished true consciousness is emotions, perception, the ability to experience and feel: the qualities, in other words, that we share with animals.

메건 오기블린, 책: 신, 인간, 동물, 기계

> 심리학자 로버트 엡스타인은 저명한 기관에서 일하는 연구자들에게 컴퓨터에 관련된 은유적 표현을 쓰지 않고 인간의 행동을 설명해 볼 수 있냐고 물었다. 연구자들은 해내지 못했다. 엡스타인은 이러한 은유적 표현이 너무나 만연해져서 "특정 시대에 살았던 사람이 영혼이나 신을 언급하지 않고는 인간의 지적 행동을 논할 수 없었던 것처럼, 컴퓨터 관련 은유를 사용하지 않고는 인간의 지적 행동에 관한 어떤 형태의 담론도 사실상 진행되지 못한다"고 말했다.

> 머리가 "잘 돌아간다"라거나 기억을 "저장했다"라거나 뇌에서 정보를 "찾아낸다"라고 말할 때마다 이러한 은유를 사용하는 것이다.

> 이제는 AI가 인지 능력을 측정하는 벤치마크에서 인간을 능가해 가고 있다. 이로 인한 불안을 잠재우기 위해 인간은 진정한 의식에 감정, 지각, 경험하고 느낄 수 있는 능력 즉 인간이 다른 동물들과 공유하는 그런 특징들이 꼭 필요하다고 주장한다.

25-12-12

Isaac Asimov
> Your assumptions are your windows on the world. Scrub them off every once in a while, or the light won’t come in.

아이작 아시모프
> 당연하다고 여기는 전제들은 세상을 보는 창과 같다. 가끔씩 문질러 잘 닦아주지 않으면 빛이 들어오지 못한다.

25-11-04

한완상, 불균형 시대의 문제의식
> 문제의식을 갖춘 사람은 정직이라고 하는 허위의식으로 가리고 있는 지배집단의 거짓된 속셈을 궤뚫어 본다. 문제의식이 투철한 사람은 자유를 앞세우는 지배세력의 억압형태를 알아차린다. ... 그러니까 문제의식을 가진 사람은 일상성의 뚜껑을 열어 보는 사람이요, 그 일상성의 세계에서 주인노릇하는 사람들의 추한 속셈을 훤하게 꿰뚫어 보는 사람이다.

Han Wan-sang, “The Sense of Problem in an Age of Imbalance”
> A person with a sense of problem sees through the ruling class’s deceitful motives, which are hidden behind the false consciousness called honesty. One whose awareness of problems is sharp recognizes the oppressive forms disguised as freedom by those in power. ... In other words, a person with a sense of problem is someone who lifts the lid of everyday life and clearly perceives the ugly intentions of those who act as masters within it.

25-10-22

문순태, 고향의 역사와 한
> 나는 고향을 단순히 현실적 공간으로만 파악한 것이 아니라, 한걸음 더 나아가서 인간존재양식의 개념으로 이해하고자 하였다. 그러니까 고향은 우리가 태어나서 자라난 곳일 뿐만 아니라, 우리 자신의 존재의 본질일 수가 있다는 것이다. 궁극적으로 말해서 고향의 철학적 개념은 <인간 본래의 모습>이라는 것이다. 그러기에 우리가 고향을 상실하였다는 것은 인간의 본래 모습을 잃어버렸다는 의미가 된다. 따라서 고향을 다시 찾자는 것은 단순히 우리들이 태어난 곳으로 되돌아가자는 것보다는 우리의 본래 모습, 즉 인간성을 되찾자는 의미인 것이다.

Moon Soon-tae, Hometown's History and Han
> I have not regarded my hometown merely as a physical or realistic space. I wanted to go a step further and understand it as a concept of human existence itself. In other words, a hometown is not only the place where we were born and raised but can also be the very essence of our being. Ultimately, the philosophical meaning of “hometown” is the original state of human existence. Therefore, to say that we have lost our hometown means that we have lost our original selves as human beings. To seek our hometown again is not simply to return to the place where we were born but to recover our original nature, that is, our humanity.

25-10-18

전상국, 내가 선택한 최선의 생활방식
> 자신이 하고 싶은 일을 할 수 있는 것, 그것은 일종의 구원이다. 소설 쓰는 일이 나를 구원했다. 다른 어떤 일보다 소설 쓰는 일이 나를 즐겁게 했던 것이다. ... 내 문학은 내 자신의 구원에서부터 시작되었다. 그리하여 소설 쓰는 일은 내 생활 전부를 지배하는 중심원리라고 할 수 있다.

Jeon Sang-guk, The Best Way of Life I Have Chosen
> To be able to do what one truly wants to do—that is a kind of salvation. Writing fiction has saved me. More than anything else, writing stories has brought me joy. … My literature began with my own salvation. Thus, I can say that writing fiction is the central principle that governs my entire life.

25-10-16

김지하
> 자기가 자기 자신을 스스로 버린다는 것, 똥으로 썩게 만든다는 것, 똥처럼 더러운 것으로 밑마닥의 탁류 속으로 내던진다는 것은 바로 자기 자신을 <비우는> 것입니다. 자기를 <공>의 상태, <무>의 상태, <허>의 상태로 낮추고 겸비하여 자기를 똥으로 비워 버리는 것입니다. 그리고 바로 이것을 저는 ‘광대정신‘이라고 부릅니다.

Kim Jiha
> To abandon oneself, to let oneself rot into filth, to cast oneself into the muddy current like excrement—this means to *empty* oneself. It is to lower and humble oneself into a state of *emptiness (空)*, *nothingness (無)*, or *hollowness (虛)*, making oneself empty like excrement. This is what I call the *spirit of the clown*.

25-10-14

김지하, 밥
> 밥은 하늘과 땅과 사람이 서로 함께 협동해서 만드는 것입니다. 풀, 벌레, 흙, 공기, 바람, 눈, 서리, 천둥, 햇빛과 볍씨와 사람의 정신 및 육체적인 모든 일이 다같이 협동해서 만들어 내는 것이 쌀이요 밥입니다.

> 이 밥은 오직 먹는 밥, 밥풀로 이루어진 밥, 들어가면 배부른 밥, 일해서 먹는 밥– 이러한 눈에 보이는 물질적인 밥만을 의미하는 것이 아닙니다. 밥은 물질적인 밥인 동시에 정신적인 밥, 정신의 밥입니다.

> “혼자서 밥을 먹으면 밥맛이 없다“는 말의 뜻은 바로 이것 때문이라고 생각할 수 있겠읍니다. 밥맛이 없는 이유는 바로 <독점> 때문입니다. 혼자서 걸게 처먹으려 하기 때문에, 원래 밥상에 둘어앉아 나누어 먹도록 되어 있는 밥을 혼자서 처먹기 때문에, 본래 밥의 본질과 먹는 형식이 일치하지 않는데서 오는 당연한 귀결이라고 볼 수 있겠읍니다.

Kim Jiha, Rice
> Rice is something created through the cooperation of heaven, earth, and human beings. Grass, insects, soil, air, wind, snow, frost, thunder, sunlight, rice seeds, and every physical and spiritual effort of people all work together to produce rice, and that becomes our food.

> This rice does not refer only to the visible, material rice—the kind made of grains, the kind that fills your stomach, the kind you earn through labor. Rice is both material and spiritual food; it nourishes not only the body but also the spirit.

> The saying “Food doesn’t taste good when you eat alone” comes from this very idea. The reason food loses its flavor is because of monopoly: because one tries to eat greedily alone, even though rice was meant to be shared at a table with others. When the true nature of rice and the way it is eaten fall out of harmony, it is only natural that it loses its taste.

25-10-13

한승원, 무엇을 쓸 것인가
> 거리에는 사람이 없습니다. 사람 같은 사람이 있을 뿐입니다. 진짜 사람을 만나기가 힘들어졌습니다. 그들은 모두 꼬리 하나씩을 감추고 있습니다. 짐승들이 운전을 하고 짐승들이 시장을 보고 있습니다. 짐승들이 텔레비전에 출연하여 이야길 하고 있습니다. 자세히 보면 짐승의 꼬리를 발견할 수 있습니다. 물론 모두가 그렇다는 것이 아닙니다. 그 가운데는 진짜 사람들도 많습니다. 나의 소설 쓰기는 그 진짜 사람 찾기입니다.

Han Seung-won, “What Shall I Write”
> The streets are empty of people. There are only people who look like people. Meeting a real person has become rare. All of them hide a tail. Beasts drive cars, beasts run the market. Beasts appear on television and speak. Look closely and you’ll spot the tail. Of course, not everyone is like that. Among them are many real people. My writing is the search for those real people.

25-10-09

David Graeber and David Wengrow, The Dawn of Everything
> We are projects of collective self-creation. What if we approached human history that way? What if we treat people, from the beginning, as imaginative, intelligent, playful creatures who deserve to be understood as such? What if, instead of telling a story about how our species fell from some idyllic state of equality, we ask how we came to be trapped in such tight conceptual shackles that we can no longer even imagine the possibility of reinventing ourselves?

데이비드 그레이버 , 데이비드 웬그로, 모든 것의 새벽
> 우리는 집단적 자기 창조의 프로젝트다. 인류사를 그런 식으로 접근해 본다면 어떨까? 처음부터 사람들을 상상력이 풍부하고 지적이며 유희적인 존재, 그리고 그렇게 이해받을 자격이 있는 존재로 대한다면 어떨까? 우리 종이 어떤 목가적 평등 상태에서 타락했다는 이야기를 들려주는 대신, 우리가 어떻게 그렇게 견고한 개념적 족쇄에 갇히게 되어 이제는 스스로를 다시 한번 발명할 가능성조차 상상하지 못하게 되었는지를 묻는다면 어떨까?

25-10-05

Salman Rushdie, Wonder Tales
> I believe that the books and stories we fall in love with make us who we are, or, not to claim too much, that the act of falling in love with a book or story changes us in some way, and the beloved tale becomes a part of our picture of the world, a part of the way in which we understand things and make judgments and choices in our daily lives. As adults, falling in love less easily, we may end up with only a handful of books that we can truly say we love. Maybe this is why we make so many bad judgments.

살만 루슈디, Wonder Tales
> 우리가 사랑하게 된 책과 이야기가 지금의 우리를 만든다고 믿는다. 과하게 말하지 않더라도, 책이나 이야기와 사랑에 빠지는 경험은 어떤 식으로든 우리를 바꾸고, 그 이야기는 우리가 세상을 바라보는 틀의 일부가 되어 일상에서 이해하고 판단하고 선택하는 방식에 스며든다. 어른이 되면 쉽게 사랑에 빠지지 않아서 진심으로 사랑한다고 말할 수 있는 책은 몇 권만 남는다. 어쩌면 그래서 우리가 그토록 많은 잘못된 판단을 하는지도 모른다.

25-09-24

함석헌
> 왜 생각하는 인간은 자유함에 이르기가 어려운가? 다시 말해서 사람 노릇의 문제점은 어디 있는가? 생각함에 있다. 참은 한 점이다. 그 한 점에 이르자는 것이 천만 가지 생각의 원이지만 그 한 점으로 압축되지 못하면, 망상 곧 그릇된 생각이다. 압축이라기보다는, 모든 깨달은 이들이 말해준 대로, 사라진다 해야 옳을 것이다. 천만 가지 생각이 다 사라져야 그것이 옳은 생각이다. 생각 없음이, 생각을 잊음이, 생각하지 않음으로 하는 생각이 정말 참 생각이다.

Ham Seok-heon
> Why is it difficult for those who think to reach freedom? In other words, what is the problem with being human? It lies in thinking. Truth is a single point. Trying to reach that one point gives rise to countless thoughts, but if they cannot be compressed into that one point, they become delusions - false thinking. Rather than compression, as all enlightened beings have taught us, it would be more accurate to say they disappear. All thoughts must disappear for that to be right thinking. Not-thinking, forgetting thought, thinking by not thinking - this is truly genuine thinking.

25-09-23

James Baldwin
> You write in order to change the world, knowing perfectly well that you probably can't, but also knowing that literature is indispensable to the world.

제임스 볼드윈
> 당신은 세상을 바꾸기 위해 글을 쓴다. 아마도 그럴 수 없다는 것을 너무나 잘 알면서도, 문학이 이 세상에 반드시 필요하다는 것 또한 알고 있기 때문이다.

25-09-17

박경리
> 상인과 작가의 차이는 무엇이며 기술자와 작가는 어떻게 다른 것인가. 차이가 없다면 결국 문학은 죽어갈 수밖에 없다. 의미를 상실한 문학, 맹목적으로 존재할 수밖에 없는 삶. 우리는 지금 그런 시대에 살고 있다. ...  나는 어떤 책에다 언어가 지는 숙명적인 마성에 대해 얘기한 적이 있다. 진실이 머문 강물 저켠을 향해 한치도 헤어나갈 수 없는 허수아비의 언어, 그럼에도 언어에 사로잡혀 빠져날 수 없는 것은 그것만이 강을 건널 가능성을 지닌 유일한 것이기 때문이라고. 나는 전율 없이 그 말을 되풀이할 수 없다.

Park Kyung-Ri
> What is the difference between a merchant and a writer, and how do technicians differ from writers? If there is no difference, then literature will inevitably die. Literature that has lost its meaning, life that can only exist blindly—we are living in such an era now. ... I once wrote in some book about the fateful demonic power that language bears. The language of a scarecrow that cannot move even an inch toward the other shore of the river where truth resides—yet the reason we cannot escape being captivated by language is that it is the only thing that holds the possibility of crossing the river. I cannot repeat those words without trembling.

25-09-11

John Rawls, Justice as Fairness: A Restatement
> Many of our most serious conflicts are conflicts within ourselves. Those who suppose their judgements are always consistent are unreflective or dogmatic.

존 롤스, Justice as Fairness: A Restatement
> 우리가 겪는 가장 심각한 갈등 가운데 상당수는 우리 내면에서 일어난다. 자신의 판단이 언제나 일관적이라고 생각하는 사람은 성찰이 부족하거나 독단적이다.

25-09-10

John Vervaeke, Awakening From the Meaning Crisis: Part 1: Origins
> A life that lacks both truth and transformation is a life awash in bullshit, filled with unnecessary suffering and moral failure, beset by self-deception and self-destructive behavior.

존 버베이키, Awakening From the Meaning Crisis: Part 1: Origins
> 진실과 변화가 모두 결여된 삶은 온통 개소리로 넘쳐나고, 불필요한 고통과 도덕적 실패로 가득하며, 자기기만과 자기파괴적 행동에 시달리는 삶이다.

25-09-06

John Holt
> A child whose life is full of the threat and fear of punishment is locked into babyhood. There is no way for him to grow up, to learn to take responsibility for his life and acts. Most important of all, we should not assume that having to yield to the threat of our superior force is good for the child's character. It is never good for anyone's character.

존 홀트
> 처벌에 대한 두려움 속에서 사는 아이는 유아기에 갇혀 있다. 이런 아이는 자라면서도 자신의 삶과 행동에 책임을 지는 법을 배울 수 없다. 무엇보다 중요한 것은, 어른의 강압적인 힘에 굴복하는 것이 아이의 인격 형성에 도움이 된다고 생각해서는 안 된다는 점이다. 이는 누구에게든 인격적으로 해로울 뿐이다.

25-09-04

숫타니파타
소리에 놀라지 않는 사자와 같이
그물에 걸리지 않는 바람과 같이
진흙물에 더럽혀지지 않는 연꽃과 같이
무소의 뿔처럼 혼자서 가라.

Khaggavisāṇa Sutta
Like a lion unafraid of sounds,
Like wind that doesn't get caught in nets,
Like a lotus undefiled by muddy water,
Go alone like the horn of a rhinoceros.

25-09-03

황제내경
> 저는 모든 병은 기에서 생긴다고 알고 있습니다. 성내면 기가 거슬러 오르고, 기뻐하면 기가 느슨해지며, 슬퍼하면 기가 사그러지고, 두려워하면 기가 내려가며, 추우면 기가 수렴되고, 열이 나면 기가 빠져나가며, 놀라면 기가 어지러워지고, 피로하면 기가 소모되며, 생각을 하면 기가 맺힙니다.

Huangdi Neijing (Yellow Emperor's Classic of Internal Medicine)
> I understand that all diseases arise from qi (vital energy). When one is angry, qi moves upward in reverse; when joyful, qi becomes slack; when sad, qi dissipates; when fearful, qi descends; when cold, qi contracts; when feverish, qi escapes; when startled, qi becomes disordered; when fatigued, qi is consumed; when thinking deeply, qi becomes knotted.

25-09-02

숫타니파타, 뱀의경
> 모든 사유를 불살라 남김없이 안으로 잘 제거한 수행승은, 마치 뱀이 묵은 허물을 벗어 버리는 것처럼 이 세상도 저 세상도 다 버린다.

Uraga Sutta: The Snake
> A monk who has burned away all mental formations and removed them completely within, abandons both this world and the next world, just as a snake sheds its old skin.

25-09-01

복잡한 세상 단순하게 사는 지혜, 김종오
> <노자>에서 특히 유명한 말에 <화광동진>이 있다. 자기의 빛(재능)을 감추고 세상의 티끌 속에 묻혀 산다는 뜻이다. 예로부터 참으로 훌륭한 사람, 위대한 인물은 자기의 존재를 드러내기를 좋아하지 않았다. 자기표현이라는 것도 좋지만 나서기 좋아하는 사람에 참으로 훌륭한 사람 별로 없고 잘난 체하는 사람 잘난 사람 없다는 속담에도 역시 진리가 있다. '유능한 매는 발톱을 감춘다'는 속담도 있는데 특히 어지러운 세상에 있어서는 자기의 재능을 뽐내지 않는 일이야말로 무사히 살아 나가는 것이라고 노자는 말한다.

The Wisdom of Living Simply in a Complex World, by Kim Jong-oh
> In Laozi's teachings, there is a particularly famous saying called "hwa-gwang-dong-jin" (和光同塵). This means hiding one's light (talents) and living buried in the dust of the world. Since ancient times, truly excellent people and great figures have not liked to reveal their existence. Self-expression may be good, but there are rarely truly excellent people among those who like to show off, and there is truth in the saying that boastful people are seldom truly capable. There is also the proverb "a skilled hawk hides its talons." Laozi teaches that especially in a chaotic world, not flaunting one's talents is the way to live safely.

25-08-29

박용주, 첫 시집을 내면서
> 갑작스런 환경의 뒤바뀜은 그런대로 참아낼 수 있었지만 읽고 싶은 책을 읽을 수 없다는 것은 참으로 고통이었습니다. 날짜 지난 신문 한 장이라도 눈에 띄면 음미하듯 아껴 읽었고 백지에 글자가 인쇄된 것이라면 무엇이든지 가리지 않고 읽었을 때, 나는 보고싶은 책이 너무 많아서 가끔은 혼자 울었습니다.

Park Yong-ju, on publishing my first poetry collection:
> While I could somehow endure the sudden upheaval of my circumstances, not being able to read the books I wanted to read was truly agonizing. I would savor even a single page of old newspaper when I came across one, and I read absolutely anything with printed text on blank paper—during those times, there were so many books I longed to see that sometimes I would cry alone.

25-08-20

김구, 나의 소원
> 나는 우리 나라가 세계에서 가장 아름다운 나라가 되기를 원한다. 가장 부강한 나라가 되기를 원하는 것은 아니다. 내가 남의 침략에 가슴이 아팠으니 내 나라가 남을 침략하는 것을 원치 아니한다. 우리의 부력은 우리의 생활을 풍족히 할 만하고 우리의 강력은 남의 침략을 막을 만하면 족하다. 오직 한없이 가지고 싶은 것은 높은 문화의 힘이다. 문화의 힘은 우리 자신을 행복하게 하고 나아가서 남에게 행복을 주겠기 때문이다.

Kim Gu, My Wish
> I want our country to become the most beautiful nation in the world. I do not wish for it to become the most powerful and wealthy nation. Since I have felt heartache from foreign invasions, I do not want my country to invade others. It is sufficient if our wealth is enough to enrich our lives and our strength is enough to repel foreign invasions. The only thing I want to possess without limit is the power of advanced culture. The power of culture will make us happy and, furthermore, bring happiness to others.

25-08-18

Ken Liu, The Paper Menagerie
> And yet, whatever has been lost in translation in the long journey of my thoughts through the maze of civilization to your mind, I think you do understand me, and you think you do understand me. Our minds managed to touch, if but briefly and imperfectly. Does the thought not make the universe seem just a bit kinder, a bit brighter, a bit warmer and more human? We live for such miracles.

켄 리우, 종이 동물원
> 그럼에도 불구하고, 문명이라는 미로를 통해 내 생각이 당신의 마음에 닿기까지의 긴 여정에서 번역 과정에서 무엇이 사라졌든, 당신이 나를 이해한다고 생각하고, 당신도 자신이 나를 이해한다고 생각한다. 우리의 마음이 잠깐이고 불완전하지만 서로 닿았다. 이런 생각이 우주를 조금 더 친절하고, 조금 더 밝고, 조금 더 따뜻하고 인간적으로 느껴지게 하지 않는가? 우리는 바로 이런 기적을 위해 산다.

25-08-17

Ken Liu, The Paper Menagerie
> Who can say if the thoughts you have in your mind as you read these words are the same thoughts I had in my mind as I typed them? We are different, you and I, and the qualia of our consciousnesses are as divergent as two stars at the end of the universe.

켄 리우, 종이 동물원
> 당신이 이 글을 읽으며 품는 생각이 내가 이 글을 쓸 때 가졌던 생각과 어찌 같다고 말할 수 있을까? 당신과 나는 다른 존재이며, 우리의 의식이 느끼는 본질적인 감각은 우주 양 끝에 놓인 두 별처럼 상이하다.

25-08-15

Brian Christian, Algorithms to Live By
> Even the best strategy sometimes yields bad results—which is why computer scientists take care to distinguish between “process” and “outcome.” If you followed the best possible process, then you’ve done all you can, and you shouldn’t blame yourself if things didn’t go your way.

브라이언 크리스찬, 알고리즘, 인생을 계산하다
> 아무리 뛰어난 전략이라도 때로는 나쁜 결과를 낳기도 한다. 컴퓨터 과학자들이 '과정'과 '결과'를 신중하게 구분하는 것도 바로 이런 이유 때문이다. 만약 최선의 과정을 따랐다면, 할 수 있는 모든 것을 다 한 것이므로 일이 뜻대로 풀리지 않았다고 자신을 탓할 필요는 없다.

25-08-14

Joan Didion, The White Album
> We tell ourselves stories in order to live. .. We look for the sermon in the suicide, for the social or moral lesson in the murder of five. We interpret what we see, select the most workable of the multiple choices. We live entirely, especially if we are writers, by the imposition of a narrative line upon disparate images, by the "ideas" with which we have learned to freeze the shifting phantasmagoria which is our actual experience.

조앤 디디온, The White Album
> 우리는 살아남고자 이야기를 만들어낸다 ... 자살에서조차 의미를 찾으려 하고, 다섯 명이 살해된 사건에서도 사회적 또는 도덕적 교훈을 찾는다. 우리는 보이는 것을 해석하려고 하면서 객관식 선택지 중 가장 그럴싸한 정답을 고른다. 완전히, 특히 글 쓰는 사람이라면 더더욱, 다채로운 이미지에 서사를 부여하고, 실제 삶에서 주마등처럼 지나가는 환영을 붙잡기 위해 미리 학습했던 '관념'에 의지하며 살아간다.

25-08-13

Tyler Cowen, Average Is Over: Powering America Beyond the Age of the Great Stagnation
> The measure of self-motivation in a young person will become the best way to predict upward mobility.

Tyler Cowen, Average Is Over: Powering America Beyond the Age of the Great Stagnation
> 젊은이의 자기 주도성은 사회경제적 성공을 예측하는 가장 좋은 지표가 될 것이다.

25-08-12

Bertrand Russell, Why I Am Not a Christian
> Science can teach us, and I think our hearts can teach us, no longer to look around for imaginary supporters, no longer to invent allies in the sky, but rather to look to our own efforts here below to make the world a fit place to live.

버트런드 러셀, 나는 왜 기독교인이 아닌가
> 과학은 우리를 가르칠 수 있다. 그리고 나는 바로 우리의 마음도 우리를 가르칠 수 있다고 본다. 이제는 더 이상 가상의 후원을 찾아 두리번거리지 말고, 하늘에 있는 후원자를 만들어내지 말고, 여기 땅에서 우리 자신의 힘에 의지해, 이 세상을, 지난날 오랜 세월 교회가 만들어 온 그런 곳이 아니라 우리가 살기 적합한 곳으로 만들자고 말이다.

25-08-09

Eric Hoffer, The True Believer
> Hatred is the most accessible and comprehensive of all the unifying agents. Mass movements can rise and spread without belief in a god, but never without a belief in a devil.

에릭 호퍼, 맹신자들
> 증오는 모든 결속 수단 중 가장 접근하기 쉽고 포괄적인 요소다. 대중운동은 신을 향한 믿음 없이도 일어나고 퍼질 수 있지만, 악마를 향한 믿음 없이는 불가능하다.

25-08-05

Thomas Mann
> A writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.

토마스 만
> 작가란 다른 사람들보다 글쓰기를 더 어려워하는 사람이다.

25-08-04

John Green, The Anthropocene Reviewed
> One of the strange things about adulthood is that you are your current self, but you are also all the selves you used to be, the ones you grew out of but can't ever quite get rid of.

존 그린, The Anthropocene Reviewed
> 어른이 된다는 것의 기묘한 점 중 하나는, 현재의 나 자신이면서도 과거의 모든 나를 동시에 품고 살아야 한다는 점이다. 커가면서 이미 벗어난 과거의 모습이라도, 이전의 나를 완전히 떨쳐낼 수는 없다.

25-08-03

Karen Hao, Empire of AI
> I’ve found only one metaphor that encapsulates the nature of what these AI power players are: empires.

Karen Hao, Empire of AI
> AI 거대 기업들의 본질을 압축적으로 보여줄 수 있는 단 하나의 비유는 바로 '제국'이다.

25-08-02

Marcus Aurelius
> Finding the way, is the way.

마르쿠스 아우렐리우스
> 길을 찾는 것, 그것이 길이다.

25-08-01

Sarah Wynn-Williams, Careless People: A Cautionary Tale of Power, Greed, and Lost Idealism
> In April 2017, a confidential document is leaked that reveals Facebook is offering advertisers the opportunity to target thirteen-to-seventeen-year-olds across its platforms, including Instagram, during moments of psychological vulnerability when they feel “worthless,” “insecure,” “stressed,” “defeated,” “anxious,” “stupid,” “useless,” and “like a failure.” Or to target them when they’re worried about their bodies and thinking of losing weight. Basically, when a teen is in a fragile emotional state. Facebook’s advertising team had made this presentation for an Australian client that explains that Instagram and Facebook monitor teenagers’ posts, photos, interactions, conversations with friends, visual communications, and internet activity on and off Facebook’s platforms and use this data to target young people when they’re vulnerable. In addition to the moments of vulnerability listed, Facebook finds moments when teenagers are concerned with “body confidence” and “working out & losing weight.

Sarah Wynn-Williams, Careless People: A Cautionary Tale of Power, Greed, and Lost Idealism
> 2017년 4월, 페이스북의 청소년 광고 타겟팅 관련한 기밀 문서가 유출됐다. 이 문서에 따르면 페이스북은 인스타그램을 포함한 자사 플랫폼에서 13~17세 청소년을 대상으로 광고주들이 청소년이 정서적으로 취약한 순간, 예를 들어 “한심하다”, “불안정하다”, “스트레스를 받는다”, “패배감을 느낀다”, “불안하다”, “멍청하다”, “쓸모없다”, “실패자 같다”고 생각할 때, 광고를 노출할 수 있도록 했다. 또한 청소년이 자신의 몸에 대한 고민이 있거나 체중 감량을 생각하는 순간을 타겟팅할 수 있도록 했다. 페이스북 광고 팀은 호주 고객사를 대상으로 한 발표 자료에서, 인스타그램과 페이스북이 청소년의 게시물, 사진, 상호작용, 친구와의 대화, 시각적 소통, 페이스북 외부 인터넷 활동 등을 모니터링하고, 이를 분석해 청소년이 정서적으로 취약한 상태일 때 광고를 집행할 수 있다고 설명했다. 문서에는 위에 열거된 감정 외에도 “'바디 컨피던스'를 고민하거나 다이어트와 체중 감량을 생각하는 순간”을 포착해 타겟팅할 수 있다고도 명시되어 있다.

25-07-27

Brian Eno, The Studio as Compositional Tool
> The effect of recording is that it takes music out of the time dimension and puts it in the space dimension. As soon as you do that, you're in a position of being able to listen again and again to a performance, to become familiar with details you most certainly had missed the first time through, and to become very fond of details that weren't intended by the composer or the musicians.

브라이언 이노, 스튜디오는 작곡을 위한 도구다
> 녹음은 음악을 시간의 차원에서 꺼내서 공간의 차원으로 옮겨 놓는다. 그렇게 우리는 한 연주를 몇 번이고 반복해서 듣는다. 처음 들었을 때는 놓쳤던 세세한 디테일을 발견하고, 작곡가나 연주자가 의도하지 않았던 디테일에도 깊이 매료될 수 있게 된다.

25-07-26

Shoshana Zuboff, The Age of Surveillance Capitalism
> Surveillance capitalism unilaterally claims human experience as free raw material for translation into behavioral data.

쇼샤나 주보프, 감시자본주의 시대
> 감시자본주의는 인간 경험을 행동 데이터로 강제 변환하기 위한 무상 원자재로 간주한다.

25-07-25

Amy Hempel, In a Tub
> When I was a girl I sneaked out at night. I pressed myself to hedges and fitted the shadows of trees. I went to a construction site near the lake. I took a concrete-mixing tub, slid it to the shore, and sat down inside it like a saucer. I would push off from the sand with one stolen oar and float, hearing nothing, for hours.

에이미 헴펠, 욕조에서
> 어릴 적, 밤이 되면 몰래 집을 빠져나왔다. 산울타리에 몸을 바싹 붙이고 나무 그림자에 몸을 숨겼다. 호수 근처 공사장으로 가서 콘크리트 배합통 하나를 가져와 해변까지 끌고 갔다. 그리고 접시인 것처럼 그 안에 앉았다. 훔친 노 하나로 모래를 밀어내고 물에 떠서, 몇 시간이고 아무 소리도 듣지 않은 채 표류했다.

25-07-23

Mikhail Bakunin
> It would be sad for mankind ... if science alone were in charge of all social administration. Life would wither, and human society would turn into a voiceless and servile herd. The domination of life by science can have no other result than the brutalization of mankind.

미하일 바쿠닌
> 만일 과학만이 모든 사회 행정을 지배하게 된다면, 인류에게 참으로 비극적인 일이 될 것이다. 삶은 점차 메말라가며, 인간 사회는 목소리 없이 복종하는 무리로 전락할 것이다. 과학이 삶을 지배하고 얻는 유일한 결과는 인간성의 잔인한 타락이다.

25-07-22

Frank Herbert
> A man is a fool not to put everything he has, at any given moment, into what he is creating. ... I don't worry about inspiration, or anything like that. It's a matter of just sitting down and working. I have never had the problem of a writing block. I've heard about it. I've felt reluctant to write on some days, for whole weeks, or sometimes even longer. I'd much rather go fishing, for example, or go sharpen pencils, or go swimming, or what not. But, later, coming back and reading what I have produced, I am unable to detect the difference between what came easily and when I had to sit down and say, "Well, now it's writing time and now I'll write." There's no difference on paper between the two.

프랭크 허버트
> 어느 때든 자신의 창작에 모든 것을 쏟아붓지 않는다면 바보일 뿐이다. ... 나는 영감 같은 것 때문에 걱정하지 않는다. 그냥 앉아서 일하면 해결될 문제다. 이런 문제가 있다는 걸 들어본 적은 있지만, 나는 글이 막혀서 힘들어한 적이 없다. 어떤 날은, 몇 주 동안, 심지어 더 긴 시간 동안 무언가 쓰는 것을 꺼리기도 한다. 일하는 것보다 낚시하거나 연필을 깎거나 수영하는 것이 훨씬 더 좋기 때문이다. 하지만 시간이 흐른 후 내가 쓴 것을 다시 읽어보면, 쉽게 나온 것과 억지로 앉아서 '자, 이제 쓰는 시간이다'라고 말하며 써야 했던 것 사이의 차이는 알아볼 수 없다. 종이에 쓰인 두 종류의 글은 전혀 다르지 않다.

25-07-21

Emma Goldman
> The history of progress is written in the blood of men and women who have dared to espouse an unpopular cause, as, for instance, the black man's right to his body, or woman's right to her soul.

엠마 골드만
> 진보의 역사는 지지받지 못하는 대의를 과감히 옹호한 남성과 여성의 피로 쓰였다. 예를 들어 자신의 몸에 대한 흑인의 권리나 자신의 영혼에 대한 여성의 권리처럼 말이다.

25-07-20

Mikhail Bakunin

I am truly free only when all human beings, men and women, are equally free. The freedom of other men, far from negating or limiting my freedom, is, on the contrary, its necessary premise and confirmation.

미하일 바쿠닌

모든 인간, 남녀 모두가 동등하게 자유로울 때 나는 진정으로 자유로울 것이다. 다른 이들의 자유는 내 자유를 훼손하거나 속박하는 것이 아니라, 오히려 근본적인 전제이자 확증이다.

25-07-19

George Saunders, A Swim in a Pond in the Rain

The world is full of people with agendas, trying to persuade us to act on their behalf (spend on their behalf, fight and die on their behalf, oppress others on their behalf). But inside us is what Hemingway called a "built-in, shockproof, shit detector." How do we know something is shit? We watch the deep, honest part of our mind reacts to it. And that part of the mind is the one that reading and writing refine into sharpness.

George Saunders, A Swim in a Pond in the Rain

세상은 숨겨진 의도를 가진 사람들로 가득 차 있으며, 그들은 우리가 자신을 위해 행동하도록 설득한다(자신을 위해 돈을 쓰게, 자신을 위해 싸우고 죽게, 자신을 위해 다른 사람을 억압하게). 하지만 우리의 내면에는 헤밍웨이가 말했던 '붙박이, 충격 방지, 헛소리 탐지기'가 있다. 헛소리인지 어떻게 알 수 있냐고? 깊숙한 곳에 자리 잡은 정직한 마음이 어떻게 반응하는지 관찰하면 된다. 그리고 이 마음은 읽기와 쓰기로 날카롭게 단련할 수 있다.

25-07-18

Ursula K. Le Guin, Steering the Craft

To make something well is to give yourself to it, to seek wholeness, to follow spirit. To learn to make something well can take your whole life. It's worth it.

Ursula K. Le Guin, Steering the Craft

무언가를 잘 만든다는 것은 자신을 바치고, 완전함을 추구하며, 정신을 따르는 것이다. 무언가를 잘 만드는 법을 배우는 데에는 평생이 걸릴 수 있다. 그럴 가치가 있는 일이다.

25-07-16

Isaac Babel

No iron spike can pierce a human heart as icily as a period in the right place.

이삭 바벨

그 어떤 쇠못도 마침표가 제자리에 찍힐 때만큼 냉철하게 사람의 심장을 꿰뚫지 못한다.

25-07-15

George Saunders, The Braindead Megaphone

Don't be afraid to be confused. Try to remain permanently confused. Anything is possible. Stay open, forever, so open it hurts, and then open up some more, until the day you die, world without end, amen.

George Saunders, The Braindead Megaphone

혼란스러워하는 것을 두려워하지 말자. 영원히 혼란스러운 상태를 유지하려고 해보자. 무엇이든 가능하니까. 평생 마음을 열어두자, 아플 정도로, 그리고 조금 더 열어보자, 죽는 그날까지, 끝없는 세상까지, 아멘.

25-07-14

Min Jin Lee, Light Source

Fiction is a light source in a world that tells us that there is no daylight left.

이민진, Light Source

소설은 더 이상 햇빛이 남아있지 않다고 하는 세상에 빛을 비춰주는 광원이다.

25-07-13

Susan Sontag, Literature Is Freedom

Literature was the passport to enter a larger life; that is, the zone of freedom.

수전 손택, 문학은 자유다

문학은 더 큰 삶으로 나아가는 통로였다. 다시 말해, 자유가 숨 쉬는 공간이었다.

25-07-12

David Wojnarowicz, DO NOT DOUBT THE DANGEROUSNESS OF THE 12-INCH-TALL POLITICIAN

I have never called myself a “photographer.” If anyone ever asked me whether I was a photographer, I would say in return: “I sometimes make photographs.” I have never been comfortable calling myself anything that would label my acts of creativity because I don’t ever want to take myself so seriously that others would then pull out their magnifying glasses and hold me or my actions or the artifacts of those actions up to the ART WORLD criteria of any given medium.

David Wojnarowicz, DO NOT DOUBT THE DANGEROUSNESS OF THE 12-INCH-TALL POLITICIAN

나는 한 번도 스스로를 ‘사진작가’라고 불러본 적이 없다. 누군가 나에게 사진작가냐고 물으면, 나는 이렇게 대답하곤 했다. "종종 사진을 찍긴 해요." 나는 내 창작 행위를 규정짓는 그 어떤 명칭도 편하게 받아들인 적이 없다. 왜냐하면 내가 스스로를 너무 진지하게 받아들이는 순간, 다른 사람들이 확대경을 들고 나, 내 행동, 혹은 그 행동의 산물들을 예술계의 기준에 맞춰 평가하려 들 것이기 때문이다.

25-07-11

Yuval Noah Harari, Sapiens

We did not domesticate wheat. It domesticated us.

유발 하라리, 사피엔스

우리가 밀을 길들인 것이 아니다. 밀이 우리를 길들였다.

25-07-10

Hannah Arendt, The Life of the Mind

The sad truth is that most evil is done by people who never make up their minds to be good or evil.

한나 아렌트, 정신의 삶

슬픈 진실은 대부분의 악은 선이 될지 악이 될지 마음먹지 못한 사람들이 저지른다는 것이다.

25-07-09

Clarice Lispector, The Hour of the Star

Everything in the world began with a yes. One molecule said yes to another molecule and life was born.

클라리스 리스펙토르, 별의 시간

이 세상 모든 것은 “예”로 시작됐다. 하나의 분자가 다른 분자에게 “예”라고 말했고, 그 순간 삶이 태어났다.

25-07-08

Ursula K. Le Guin

Books aren’t just commodities; the profit motive is often in conflict with the aims of art. We live in capitalism, its power seems inescapable — but then, so did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings. Resistance and change often begin in art. Very often in our art, the art of words.

Ursula K. Le Guin

책은 그저 상품이 아니다. 이윤을 추구하는 동기는 예술의 목적과 종종 충돌한다. 우리는 자본주의 사회에 살고 있고, 그 힘은 피할 수 없어 보인다. 그런데 신성하다고 믿었던 왕의 권위 또한 마찬가지였다. 인간이 만든 권력은 인간이 거부하고 바꿀 수 있다. 저항과 변화는 종종 예술에서 시작된다. 그중에서도 말의 예술, 즉 글에서 자주 시작된다.

25-07-07

Jack Gilbert, The Great Fires

We must unlearn the constellations to see the stars.

잭 길버트, The Great Fires

별을 제대로 보려면, 별자리부터 잊어야 한다.

25-07-06

Ursula K. Le Guin, A Few Words to a Young Writer

Socrates said, “The misuse of language induces evil in the soul.” He wasn't talking about grammar. To misuse language is to use it the way politicians and advertisers do, for profit, without taking responsibility for what the words mean. Language used as a means to get power or make money goes wrong: it lies. Language used as an end in itself, to sing a poem or tell a story, goes right, goes towards the truth.

어슐러 K. 르 귄, 젊은 작가에게 하고 싶은 말

소크라테스는 “언어를 잘못 쓰면 영혼이 병든다”고 말했다. 문법 얘기가 아니다. 언어를 잘못 쓴다는 건 정치인이나 광고하는 사람들이 그렇듯, 말의 의미에 책임지지 않고 이익을 위해 쓰는 걸 말한다. 권력이나 돈을 얻기 위한 수단으로 쓰면, 언어는 엇나가고 거짓이 된다. 반대로 시를 읊거나 이야기를 들려주기 위해, 언어 그 자체를 목적으로 쓸 때는 올바른 방향을 향해 간다. 진실로 나아가는 것이다.

25-07-05

Stéphane Pigeon, What a Hacker Stole From Me

Let’s keep building things around us, and together, outnumber those who chose the opposite. Because in the end, building gives meaning to life. Destroying doesn’t.

Stéphane Pigeon, What a Hacker Stole From Me

계속해서 무언가를 만들자. 그리고 그런 사람들의 수가, 반대를 선택한 이들보다 많아지도록 하자. 결국 삶에 의미를 주는 건 만드는 일이지, 부수는 일이 아니다.

25-07-04

앤소니 드 멜로, 사랑으로 가는 길

수천 송이 꽃의 향기를 즐길 줄 안다면, 단 하나에 집착하지도 그것을 얻지 못해 괴로워하지도 않을 것이다.

Anthony de Mello, The Way to Love: Meditations for Life

If you learn to enjoy the scent of a thousand flowers you will not cling to one or suffer when you cannot get it.

25-07-03

Kevin Kelly, Flounder Mode

Greatness is overrated. It’s a form of extremism, and it comes with extreme vices that I have no interest in. Steve Jobs was a jerk. Bob Dylan is a jerk.

케빈 켈리, Flounder Mode

위대함은 과대평가된 개념이다. 일종의 극단주의이기 때문에 내가 감당하고 싶지 않은 극단적인 결점들을 요구한다. 스티브 잡스는 괴팍했고, 밥 딜런도 마찬가지다

25-07-02

George Saunders, A Swim in a Pond in the rain

In Buddhism, it’s said that a teaching is like “a finger pointing at the moon.” The moon (enlightenment) is the essential thing and the pointing finger is trying to direct us to it, but it’s important not to confuse finger with moon.

조지 손더스, A Swim in a Pond in the rain

불교에서는 가르침을 “달을 가리키는 손가락”에 비유하곤 한다. 본질은 달(깨달음)이고, 손가락은 그 방향을 가리키는 도구일 뿐이다. 손가락과 달을 혼동하지 않는 것이 중요하다.

25-07-01

Michel de Montaigne, The Complete Works

The world always looks straight ahead; as for me, I turn my gaze inward. I fix it there and keep it busy. Everyone looks in front of him; as for me, I look inside of me; I have no business but with myself; I continually observe myself, I take stock of myself, I taste myself. Others always go elsewhere, if they stop to think about it; they always go forward ... As for me, I roll about in myself.

미셸 드 몽테뉴, The Complete Works

사람들은 늘 앞만 바라본다. 나는 다르다. 나는 내 안을 들여다본다. 거기에 시선을 고정하는 것만으로도 충분히 바쁘다. 다들 앞으로 가지만, 나는 내 안을 향한다. 나에게 중요한 건 나 자신뿐이다. 나는 끊임없이 나를 살피고, 관찰하고, 음미한다. 사람들은 늘 어딘가로 움직이지만, 가만히 생각해 보면 그건 언제나 앞으로 나아가는 일이다. 나는 그저 내 안을 맴돌며 살아간다.

25-06-30

Lydia Davis, Essays One

If you want to be original, don’t labor to be original. Rather, work on yourself, your mind, and then say what you think. This was Stendhal’s advice. Actually, he said: “If you want to be witty, work on your character and say what you think on every occasion.

리디아 데이비스, Essays One

독창적인 사람이 되고 싶다면 독창적인 사람이 되려고 애쓰지 않아야 한다. 대신 자신의 내면을 가다듬고, 떠오르는 생각을 솔직하게 표현해야 한다. 이것이 스탕달의 조언이었다. 사실 스탕달은 이렇게 말했다. “재치 있는 사람이 되고 싶다면 자기 자신을 잘 다듬으면서 매 순간 떠오르는 생각을 말하면 된다”라고.

25-06-29

Wendell Berry, Why I Am Not Going to Buy a Computer

To reduce or shortcut the intimacy of the body's involvement in the making of a work of art inevitably risks reducing the work of art and the art it self. I am not going to use a computer because I don't want to diminish or distort my bodily involvement in my work.

웬델 베리, 내가 컴퓨터를 사지 않는 이유

예술 작품을 만드는 데 있어 몸이 깊이 관여하는 과정을 줄이거나 건너뛰면, 어쩔 수 없이 작품과 예술성 자체가 약해질 수 있다. 그래서 나는 내 작업에서 몸의 개입이 줄어들거나 왜곡되는 일이 없도록 컴퓨터를 쓰지 않기로 했다.

25-06-28

Edward Snowden

Ultimately, saying that you don't care about privacy because you have nothing to hide is no different from saying you don't care about freedom of speech because you have nothing to say.

에드워드 스노든

“숨길 게 없으니 프라이버시 따위 신경 쓰지 않는다”라고 말하는 건, “할 말이 없으니 표현의 자유도 필요 없다”라고 말하는 것과 다를 바 없다.

25-06-27

Charlie Munger

Spend each day trying to be a little wiser than you were when you woke up. Day by day, and at the end of the day-if you live long enough-like most people, you will get out of life what you deserve.

찰리 멍거

매일 아침 눈 떴을 때 전날보다 조금 더 지혜로워지도록 노력하자. 그렇게 하루하루 쌓이며 오래 살다 보면 결국 마땅히 받을 만한 것을 얻게 될 것이다.

25-06-26

Barton Gellman

Information is the oxygen of control.

바튼 겔먼

정보는 통제를 가능하게 하는 산소다.

25-06-25

Scott Adams

All I'm suggesting is that thinking of goals and systems as very different concepts has power. Goal-oriented people exist in a state of continuous presuccess failure at best, and permanent failure at worst if things never work out. Systems people succeed every time they apply their systems, in the sense that they did what they intended to do. The goals people are fighting the feeling of discouragement at each turn. The systems people are feeling good everytime they apply their system. That's a big difference in terms of maintaining your personal energy in the right direction.

스콧 애덤스

내가 말하고 싶은 건, 목표와 시스템을 전혀 다른 개념으로 바라보는 것이 큰 힘을 발휘할 수 있다는 점이다. 목표 중심의 사람은 아무리 일이 잘 풀려도 늘 ‘성공 이전의 실패’ 상태에 머무르게 된다. 그리고 일이 끝내 잘못되면, 영영 실패한 채로 남을 수도 있다. 반면 시스템 중심의 사람은 시스템 속에서 의도한 대로 행동할 때마다 성공한다. 목표 중심의 사람은 매번 좌절감을 견뎌야 하지만, 시스템 중심의 사람은 시스템을 실천할 때마다 기분이 좋아진다. 에너지를 올바른 방향으로 쓰는 데 있어, 이 둘 사이에는 아주 큰 차이가 있다.

25-06-24

Mary Oliver

You may not agree, you may not care, but
if you are holding this book you should know that of all the sights I love in this world — and there are plenty — very near the top of the list is this one: dogs without leashes.

메리 올리버

동의하지 않을 수 있고, 관심 없어도 괜찮지만,
이 책을 들고 있다면 알아줬으면 해요. 이 세상에 내가 아끼는 풍경이 정말 많지만, 그중에서도 손에 꼽을 만큼 좋아하는 모습은 목줄 없이 다니는 강아지들이라는 걸.

25-06-23

Jon Krakauer

There were many, many fine reasons not to go, but attempting to climb Everest is an intrinsically irrational act—a triumph of desire over sensibility. Any person who would seriously consider it is almost by definition beyond the sway of reasoned argument. The plain truth is that I knew better but went to Everest anyway. And in doing so I was a party to the death of good people, which is something that is apt to remain on my conscience for a very long time.

존 크라카우어

에베레스트에 가지 말아야 할 이유는 수도 없이 많았다. 하지만 에베레스트를 오르려는 시도는 애초에 비이성적인, 이성보다 욕망이 앞서는 선택이다. 이와 같은 생각을 진지하게 해보는 사람이라면, 애당초 이성적인 설득이 통하지 않는 사람일 가능성이 크다. 부정할 수 없는 사실은, 나는 그 위험을 알고 있었다는 것이다. 그런데도 에베레스트에 갔다. 그리고 그 선택으로 인해 나는 선한 사람들의 죽음에 연루되었고, 그 일은 아마 평생 내 양심에 무겁게 남을 것이다.

25-06-22

Chuck Klosterman

The process of compiling old articles is not difficult, but it also isn’t pleasant. It’s just not enjoyable to reread things you’ve written in the not-so-distant past (I think this is true for most writers, discounting those real crazy motherfuckers who believe the world would be radically different if they weren’t involved). Every positive memory is coated with the ooze of regret: You want to delete every semicolon and alter every joke. Moments that once seemed revelatory now seem banal. You’re forcibly reminded how rapidly society evolves, and it’s disheartening to revisit an arbitrary event from five years ago that suddenly feels like a factoid from 1958. It’s the worst kind of time machine.

척 클로스터먼

예전 글들을 모으는 작업이 어렵진 않지만, 유쾌하지도 않다. 쓴 지 얼마 지나지 않은 글을 다시 읽는 건 재미가 없다(대부분의 작가에게 적용되는 사실이다. 자신이 세상에 지대한 영향을 끼쳤다고 믿는 진짜 미친 사람들을 빼면 말이다). 기분 좋은 기억마저도 후회의 안개에 가려진다. 그래서 모든 세미콜론을 지우고, 모든 농담을 고치고 싶은 마음이 든다. 한때는 통찰처럼 느껴졌던 순간들이 이제는 진부하게 느껴지기도 한다. 세상이 얼마나 빨리 바뀌는지 강제로 실감하게 된다. 불과 5년 전의 일인데도, 갑자기 1958년쯤의 낡은 정보처럼 느껴지면서 침울해진다. 최악의 타임머신이다.

25-06-21

Robert M. Pirsig

Mountains should be climbed with as little effort as possible and without desire. The reality of your own nature should determine the speed. If you become restless, speed up. If you become winded, slow down. You climb the mountain in an equilibrium between restlessness and exhaustion. Then, when you’re no longer thinking ahead, each footstep isn’t just a means to an end but a unique event in itself. This leaf has jagged edges. This rock looks loose. From this place the snow is less visible, even though closer. These are things you should notice anyway. To live only for some future goal is shallow. It’s the sides of the mountain which sustain life, not the top. Here’s where things grow. .... Mental reflection is so much more interesting than TV it’s a shame more people don’t switch over to it.

로버트 M. 피어시그

최대한 힘을 들이지 않고, 욕심 없이 등산해야 한다. 오르는 속도는 내면의 리듬에 맞추자. 조급해지면 속도를 높이고, 숨이 차면 속도를 늦춰라. 그렇게 산을 오르면 조급함과 탈진 사이의 균형 속에 있게 된다. 그리고 더 이상 미래를 떠올리지 않게 되면, 한 걸음 한 걸음이 목적지를 향한 수단뿐 아니라 그 자체로 고유한 사건이 된다. 이 잎은 가장자리가 들쭉날쭉하구나. 이 돌은 헐거워 보인다. 이 지점에서는 하얀 눈이 더 가까이 있지만 잘 보이지 않네. 이런 것들을 눈여겨봐야 한다. 오직 목표만을 위해 사는 삶은 얕다. 삶을 지탱하는 것은 산꼭대기가 아니라 산의 옆면이다. 삶이 자라는 건 바로 이곳이다. … 마음을 들여다보는 일은 TV보다 훨씬 흥미롭다. 사람들이 그쪽으로 채널을 돌리지 않는다는 건 참 안타까운 일이다.

25-06-20

Bo Burnham

Why do poets always talk about the ocean's waves,
about their single file march to shore,
and yet never talk about my grandmother's farts,
which arrive in time, one after the other, with equal
     regularity?

보 번햄

왜 시인들은 늘 바다의 파도에 대해 말할까,
차례차례 해변으로 밀려오는 그 모습에 대해,
그런데 왜 아무도 우리 할머니 방귀를
언급하지 않을까, 정해진 시간에, 하나씩, 똑같이
규칙적으로 터져 나오는 그 방귀에 대해선?

25-06-19

Shirley Jackson

Your coloring words, particularly adjectives and adverbs, must be used where they will do the most good. Not every action needs a qualifying adverb, not every object needs a qualifying adjective. Your reader probably has a perfectly serviceable mental picture of a lion; when a lion comes into your story you need not burden him with adjectives unless it is necessary, for instance, to point out that he is a green lion, something of which your reader might not have a very vivid mental picture.

셜리 잭슨

형용사나 부사처럼 뜻을 덧붙이는 말은 꼭 필요한 곳에만 써야 한다. 모든 동작에 부사를 붙일 필요는 없고, 모든 대상에 형용사를 붙일 필요도 없다. 대부분의 사람은 사자라는 말만 들어도 머릿속에 이미 떠오르는 이미지가 있다. 그러니 이야기 속에 사자가 등장한다고 해서, 그게 초록색 사자처럼 특별한 경우가 아니라면 굳이 형용사를 덧붙여 설명할 필요는 없다.

25-06-18

Jhumpa Lahiri

My father, seventy-eight, is a methodical man. For thirty-nine years, he has had the same job, cataloguing books for a university library. He drinks two glasses of water first thing in the morning, walks for an hour every day, and devotes almost as much time, before bed, to flossing his teeth. “Winging it” is not a term that comes to mind in describing my father. When he’s driving to new places, he does not enjoy getting lost.

줌파 라히리

아빠는 일흔여덟 살이고, 아주 꼼꼼한 사람이다. 39년 동안 대학교 도서관에서 책을 분류하는 일을 해왔다. 아빠는 아침마다 물 두 잔을 마시고, 매일 한 시간씩 걷고, 잠자기 전에 치실로 이를 손질하는 데도 거의 한 시간을 들인다. ‘즉흥적으로 한다’라는 말은 아빠를 설명할 때 전혀 어울리지 않는다. 운전해서 처음 가는 곳에 가더라도, 길을 헤매는 걸 정말 싫어하는 사람이다.

25-06-17

Ralph Waldo Emerson

No matter how much faculty of idle seeing a man has, the step from knowing to doing is rarely taken.

랄프 왈도 에머슨

아무리 통찰력이 뛰어난 사람이라도, 앎을 행동으로 옮기는 일은 좀처럼 하지 않는다.

25-06-16

Daniel Gilbert

Priests vow to remain celibate, physicians vow to do no harm, and letter carriers vow to swiftly complete their appointed rounds despite snow, sleet, and split infinitives. Few people realize that psychologists also take a vow, promising that at some point in their professional lives they will publish a book, a chapter, or at least an article that contains this sentence: “The human being is the only animal that …”

다니엘 길버트

사제는 독신을 맹세하고, 의사는 해를 끼치지 않겠다고 맹세하며, 집배원은 눈보라든 진눈깨비든, 문법 오류든 아랑곳하지 않고 맡은 배달을 끝까지 하겠다고 맹세한다. 그런데 대부분 사람은 심리학자들 역시 비슷한 맹세를 한다는 사실을 모른다. 심리학자들은 언젠가 책이나 논문, 아니면 신문 기사에라도 반드시 이런 문장을 포함하겠다는 맹세를 한다: “인간은 유일하게 ....하는 동물이다.”

25-06-15

Haruki Murakami

Why should so many birthday stories be this gloomy? I suspect it is because the overwhelming majority of novelists are by nature, incapable of taking the world at face value, If most people imagine candles on a cake and the singing of "Happy Birthday", conversely, a novelist who hears the word "birthday" is probably going to think, "Let me give them an un-happy birthday".

무라카미 하루키

왜 생일을 다룬 소설들은 이렇게 우울할까? 소설가 대부분은 세상을 있는 그대로 받아들이지 못하는 타고난 성향이 있다. 대부분은 "생일" 하면 케이크에 꽂힌 촛불과 "생일 축하합니다" 노래를 떠올리지만, 소설가는 반대로 생각할 것이다. "내가 한번 '언해피 버스데이'를 선물해 보자."

25-06-14

Steven Pressfield

I’ve seen a million writers with talent. It means nothing. You need guts, you need stick-to-it-iveness. It’s work, you gotta work, do the freakin’ work. That’s why you’re gonna make it, son. You work. No one can take that away from you.

스티븐 프레스필드

재능 있는 작가는 수도 없이 봐왔다. 하지만 재능만으론 아무 소용 없다. 필요한 건 배짱과 끈기다. 결국 이건 노동이다. 해야 하고, 끝까지 밀어붙여야 한다. 그렇다면 성공하게 될 것이다. 묵묵히 그 일을 해내고 있으니까. 그 노력은 누구도 부정할 수 없다.

25-06-13

Douglas Rushkoff

When human beings acquired language, we learned not just how to listen but how to speak. When we gained literacy, we learned not just how to read but how to write. And as we move into an increasingly digital reality, we must learn not just how to use programs but how to make them. In the emerging highly programmed landscape ahead, you will either create the software or you will be the software. It’s really that simple: Program, or be programmed.

더글러스 러시코프

인간이 언어를 갖게 되었을 때, 우리는 듣는 법뿐 아니라 말하는 법을 배웠다. 문자 해독 능력을 갖추게 되었을 때는 읽는 법뿐 아니라 쓰는 법을 배웠다. 세상이 점점 더 디지털화될수록, 우리는 소프트웨어 프로그램을 사용하는 법만이 아니라 만드는 기술 또한 배워야 한다. 앞으로 펼쳐질 세상은 철저히 프로그래밍이 된 환경이다. 누군가는 소프트웨어를 설계하고, 누군가는 그 소프트웨어에서 움직이게 된다. 단순한 문제다. 프로그램하거나, 프로그램 당하거나. 둘 중 하나를 선택해야만 한다.

25-06-12

황부용

20세기 후반 한국의 레터링을 관찰해 보면 지나치게 기교를 부린다. 기교 부리고, 물결 치고, 장식 넣고 하는 게 다 유아적이다. 디자인의 근본에 충실하지 않은 것이고 사회 수준과도 관계가 있다. 1980년대까지는 디자이너들이 문제에 대한 근본적 해결 방법을 수학적 합리주의에서 찾을 생각을 하지 못했다. 클라이언트의 수준도 마찬가지다. 꾸미면 예뻐지는 거 아니냐는 식이었다. 그 속에서 군계일학도 종종 있었지만, 전반적으로 문자 환경이 그랬다. 가령 레터링을 할 때 장식 없는 글자로는 돈 받기가 곤란했다. 사실 장식 없는 글자가 더 어려운 거다. 단순미가 강조된 문자 조형으로는 설득이 잘 안되는 시절이다.

Hwang Booyong

If you look at Korean lettering from the latter half of the 20th century, it’s overly elaborate. All the flourishes, waves, and decorative touches—it’s childish. It doesn’t stay true to the fundamentals of design, and that reflects the broader state of society at the time. Until the 1980s, designers didn’t think to approach problems through mathematical rationalism. The same was true of clients. Their attitude was basically, “Isn’t it prettier if it’s decorated?” There were occasional standouts, but overall, that’s what the typographic landscape looked like. For example, it was hard to get paid for lettering that wasn’t decorative. The irony is that minimalist lettering is actually harder to pull off. But back then, it was difficult to convince people of the value of letterforms that emphasized simplicity.

25-06-11

정재완

언젠가 명동 거리를 걸으며 마주친 글자는 자본의 증표였다. 관광객이 줄을 서고 중국어와 일본어 중심으로 형성된 언어 경관은 돈을 쓰는 사람들을 위한 친절함이었다. 요사이 대구 교동 거리는 일본의 어느 유흥가를 옮겨놓은 듯한 풍경이다. 가나 문자와 한자로 쓰여있는 간판과 메뉴판은 읽기 어렵다. 하지만 그런 분위기를 소비하는 것 자체가 힙하기 때문에 읽을 수 있으나 없느냐는 별로 중요하지 않다. 우리가 어떤 문화를 소비 대상으로 간주할 때 글자는 소비를 위한 장식품이다.

Jeong Jaewan

The letters I once saw on the streets of Myeongdong were emblems of capital. Tourists lined up, and the linguistic landscape dominated by Chinese and Japanese was a kind of friendliness designed for those with money to spend. Today, the scenery of Gyo-dong Street in Daegu feels like a transplant from a Japanese entertainment district. In this area, the signs and menus, written in Kana and Chinese characters, are not meant to be understood. The ability to read them isn’t especially important, because simply consuming the atmosphere is considered “hip.” When a culture is treated as an object of consumption, its language becomes just another ornament in the display.

25-06-10

Paramahansa Yogananda

"Why be elated by material profit?” Father replied. “The one who pursues a goal of evenmindedness is neither jubilant with gain nor depressed by loss. He knows that man arrives penniless in this world, and departs without a single rupee."

파라마한사 요가난다

"왜 물질적 이익에 기뻐하나?” 아버지는 말씀하셨다. “평정심을 목표로 삼는 사람은 이익이 있어도 들뜨지 않고, 손해를 봐도 낙담하지 않는다. 그는 사람이 세상에 올 때 빈손으로 오고, 떠날 때 한 푼도 없이 떠난다는 것을 안다."

25-06-09

Tobias Wolff

Writers can never be sure, in the act of writing, if anyone will pay that price for the company of their words. We proceed on faith but in doubt, dreaming uncertainly of readers who will justify this lonely work by passion equal to our own. It's a gracious moment when you meet one.

토비아스 울프

글 쓰는 사람은 글을 쓰는 동안, 과연 누가 이 글을 읽기 위해 기꺼이 시간을 내줄지 알 수 없다. 우리는 믿음을 가지고 쓰지만, 동시에 의심도 품는다. 언젠가 우리와 같은 열정을 가지고 이 외로운 작업에 의미를 만들어줄 독자가 있기를 막연히 꿈꾼다. 그래서 열정적인 독자를 실제로 만나게 되는 순간은 정말 특별하다.

25-06-08

Rainer Maria Rilke

I beg you, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.

라이너 마리아 릴케

제발 아직 해결하지 못한 모든 내적인 것들에 대해 인내심을 가지길 바라며, 마치 잠긴 방이나 외국어로 쓰인 책을 보듯 그 질문들을 있는 그대로 사랑해 보세요. 당장 답을 찾으려 하지 마세요. 그 답은 아직 주어질 수 없고, 그 답이 무엇이든 삶으로 받아들일 준비도 되어 있지 않으니까요. 중요한 건 모든 것을 살아내는 것, 그 질문들과 함께 살아가는 것입니다. 그러다 보면 언젠가 아주 먼 훗날, 자신도 모르게 그 답 속으로 삶이 이끌려가 있을지도 몰라요.

25-06-07

Akio Morita

Engineers had the technology to add the recording function to the Walkman and it would’ve cost only 50 cents to a dollar per unit. Morita decided against it. He wanted the device to have one function, which it performs very well. Walkman should only play high-quality music to avoid ambiguity. More features confuse people about their use and where to start. Less is more.

모리타 아키오

엔지니어들은 워크맨에 녹음 기능을 넣을 수 있었고, 비용도 기기 하나당 50센트에서 1달러 정도밖에 안 들었다. 그런데 모리타는 기능 추가를 원하지 않았다. 모리타는 워크맨이 오직 하나의 기능만, 그것도 최고로 해내길 바랐다. 높은 퀄리티의 음악을 재생하는 기능에만 집중해야 한다는 거다. 기능이 많아지면 사람들이 어떻게 써야 할지, 어디서 시작해야 할지 헷갈리기 쉽다. 덜어낼수록 더 좋다는 철학이었다.

25-06-06

Kenya Hara

I have long thought that raising questions is more important than giving answers. Creativity is to discover a question that has never been asked. If one brings up an idiosyncratic question, the answer he gives will necessarily be unique as well.

하라 켄야

나는 오랫동안 질문을 던지는 것이 답을 제시하는 것보다 더 중요하다고 생각해 왔다. 창의성이란, 한 번도 제기된 적 없는 질문을 발견하는 것이다. 독특한 질문을 던진다면 내놓는 답 또한 필연적으로 독창적일 수밖에 없다.

25-06-05

Tobias Wolff

A few years ago I met a wheat farmer from North Dakota, and couldn't stop myself from asking him how he kept from going crazy in all that windblown solitude. He did not seem to find the question peculiar. He told me that when he was out in the fields he brought along a Walkman and listened to short stories on tape. He had a collection of several hundred, some bought through catalogues but most of them recorded from collections and anthologies he borrowed from the library. He and his wife read them aloud to each other, and to their tape recorder, at night and during long winter afternoons when the snow held them housebound. They kept the stories they liked and erased the rest.

토비아스 울프

몇 년 전, 노스다코타에서 밀 농사를 짓는 사람을 만난 적이 있다. 거센 바람이 끊이지 않는 광활한 들판에서 어떻게 쓸쓸함을 견디는지 물었더니, 전혀 이상한 질문이 아니라는 듯 자연스럽게 대답이 돌아왔다. 그는 들에 나갈 때면 워크맨을 챙겨가 단편 소설이 담긴 테이프를 듣는다고 했다. 수백 편의 이야기를 모아뒀는데, 일부는 카탈로그로 구입했고, 대부분은 도서관에서 빌린 단편집과 앤솔로지를 직접 녹음한 것들이었다. 눈 때문에 집에 갇혀 있어야 했던 기나긴 겨울 오후나 밤에는 아내와 함께 책을 소리 내어 읽고, 그것을 서로의 테이프에 녹음했다. 그리고 마음에 드는 이야기만 남기고, 나머지는 지웠다.

25-06-04

Ivan Illich

In a consumer society there are inevitably two kinds of slaves: the prisoners of addiction and the prisoners of envy.

이반 일리치

소비 사회에서 사람들은 결국 두 종류의 노예가 된다. 하나는 중독에 지배당한 노예 그리고 다른 하나는 질투에 사로잡힌 노예다.

25-06-03

David Foster Wallace

Because here’s something else that’s true. In the day-to-day trenches of adult life, there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. And an outstanding reason for choosing some sort of god or spiritual-type thing to worship… is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive.

The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day.

데이비드 포스터 월리스

한 가지 사실을 더 말하자면, 어른으로서 살아가는 전쟁터 같은 일상에서는 무신론이라는 건 없어요. 아무것도 숭배하지 않고 사는 사람도 없어요. 우리는 모두 무언가를 숭배하며 삽니다. 우리가 선택할 수 있는 건 무엇을 숭배할 것인가 뿐이에요. 신이나 어떤 영적인 대상을 숭배하는 편이 나은 이유는, 그 외의 거의 모든 것을 숭배하면 결국 그것들이 당신을 갉아먹기 때문이에요.

진짜 중요한 자유는 주의를 기울이고, 의식하고, 자신을 단련하며 애쓰는 데 있어요. 그리고 진심으로 다른 사람을 아끼고, 매일 사소하고 눈에 잘 띄지 않는 방식으로 반복해서 그들을 위해 희생할 수 있는 것, 그게 진짜 자유예요.

25-06-02

James C. Scott, Seeing Like a State

Officials of the modern state are, of necessity, at least one step – and often several steps – removed from the society they are charged with governing. They assess the life of their society by a series of typifications that are always some distance from the full reality these abstractions are meant to capture. … These typifications are indispensable to statecraft. State simplifications such as maps, censuses, cadastral lists, and standard units of measurement represent techniques for grasping a large and complex reality; in order for officials to be able to comprehend aspects of the ensemble, that complex reality must be reduced to schematic categories. The only way to accomplish this is to reduce an infinite array of detail to a set of categories that will facilitate summary descriptions, comparisons and aggregations. ... The aspiration to such uniformity and order alerts us to the fact that modern statecraft is largely a project of internal colonization, often glossed, as it is in its imperial rhetoric, as a 'civilizing mission'

제임스 C. 스콧, 국가처럼 보기

현대 국가의 관료들은 자신들이 통치하는 사회와 기본적으로 거리를 두고 있으며, 때로는 훨씬 더 멀어지기도 한다. 그들은 사회의 삶을 몇 가지 유형으로 나누어 이해하려 하지만, 이런 방식은 복잡한 현실을 제대로 담지 못한다. ... 그럼에도 이런 단순화 없이는 국가를 운영하고 통치하는 데 필요한 틀을 만들 수 없다. 지도, 인구조사, 토지대장, 표준 측정 단위 같은 것들은 복잡하고 방대한 사회를 파악하기 위한 도구다. 관료들이 사회 전체를 이해하려면, 거기 담긴 무수한 차이와 맥락을 정해진 기준이나 틀로 단순하게 분류해야 한다. 그렇게 해야만 복잡한 정보를 요약하고, 비교하고, 집계할 수 있기 때문이다. ... 이처럼 획일성과 질서를 추구하는 데서 우리는 현대 국가 운영이 본질적으로 내부 식민화의 과정이라는 사실을 알 수 있다. 그리고 이런 과정은 흔히, 제국주의적 언어에서 그렇듯, ‘계몽과 발전’이라는 이름으로 미화된다.

25-06-01

David Wojnarowicz, Post Cards from America: X-rays from Hell

My anger is more about this culture’s refusal to deal with mortality. My rage is really about the fact that WHEN I WAS TOLD THAT I’D CONTRACTED THIS VIRUS IT DIDN’T TAKE ME LONG TO REALIZE THAT I’D CONTRACTED A DISEASED SOCIETY AS WELL.

데이비드 워나로위츠, 미국에서 온 엽서: 지옥에서 온 엑스레이

내 분노는 이 사회가 죽음을 외면한다는 데 있다. 내가 정말 화가 난 건, 이 바이러스에 걸렸다는 말을 듣자마자 바로 알게 됐기 때문이다. 나는 병에 걸린 게 아니라 병든 사회에도 함께 감염된 거였다.

25-05-31

Keith Johnstone, Impro

One day, when I was eighteen, I was reading a book and I began to weep. I was astounded. I’d had no idea that literature could affect me in such a way. If I’d have wept over a poem in class the teacher would have been appalled. I realised that my school had been teaching me not to respond.

키스 존스톤, 즉흥연기

열여덟 살 무렵, 책을 읽다가 눈물을 흘린 적이 있다. 놀라웠다. 문학이 나에게 이런 식으로 다가올 수 있다는 걸 전혀 몰랐다. 만약 교실에서 시를 읽다 울었다면, 선생님은 당황했을 것이다. 그제야 깨달았다. 학교는 내게 반응하지 않는 법을 가르치고 있었다.

25-05-30

옌롄커

아무 의미도 없는데 글을 쓰는 것은 사람이 살아 있는 한 어쩔 수 없이 밥을 먹어야 하는 것과 같다. 본질적으로 말하자면 작가는 글쓰기를 통해 독자들의 필요가 아닌 자기 자신의 내면을 만족시킬 수 있어야 한다. 글을 쓰지 않으면, 정말로 죽을지도 모른다. 하지만 글을 쓴다는 것은 자신이 아직 살아 있음을 증명하는 일일 것이다.

Yan Lianke

Writing without any particular meaning is akin to how a person must eat to stay alive. Essentially, a writer should be able to satisfy their own inner needs through writing, rather than merely catering to readers. If I don’t write, I might truly die. But writing serves as proof that I am still alive.

25-05-29

Clarice Lispector

My God, I just remembered that we die.

25-05-28

Stéphan Gladieu, North Korea

When I was [in North Korea] and enquired further I found that the portrait, as such, does not exist in North Korea. No family photos, hardly any personal portraits. Individuality has few reasons to show itself in a society where everything is plural, collective, communitarian. North Korea never took the path followed by other societies, where photography democratised self-representation, which up to then had been the preserve of the bourgeoisie, via painting.

스테판 글라디유, 북한

내가 북한에 있었을 때 더 깊이 알아보니, 북한에는 ‘초상사진’이라는 개념 자체가 없다는 걸 알게 됐다. 가족사진도 없고, 개인 초상 또한 거의 찾아볼 수 없었다. 모든 것이 집단적이고 공동체 중심인 사회에서, 개인이 스스로를 드러낼 리 없다. 북한은 사진으로 자아를 표현하는, 이른바 ‘자기표현의 민주화’ 과정을 겪지 않았다. 다른 사회에서는 초상화를 통해 부유층만 가능했던 자기표현이 사진을 통해 대중에게까지 확산됐지만, 북한은 그런 흐름을 따르지 않았다.

25-05-27

Flush: A Biography, Virginia Woolf

The cool globes of dew or rain broke in showers of iridescent spray about his nose; the earth, here hard, here soft, here hot, here cold, stung, traced, and tickled the soft pads of his feet.

플러시: 작은 개 이야기, 버지니아 울프

이슬인지 빗방울인지 모를 차가운 방울들이 코 주변에서 무지갯빛 물보라가 되어 튀어 올랐다. 땅의 어떤 곳은 단단하고, 어떤 곳은 부드러웠으며, 어떤 곳은 뜨겁고, 또 어떤 곳은 차가웠다. 그런 땅이 부드러운 발바닥을 따끔하게 찌르기도 하고, 스쳐 지나가기도 하고, 간질이듯 만지기도 했다.

25-05-26

Modern Africa as the Crossroads of Culture, Chinua Achebe

Some people have suggested that I should be better off writing in Igbo. Sometimes they seek to drive the point home by asking me in which language I dream. When I reply that I dream in both languages they seem not to believe it. More recently I have heard an even more potent and metaphysical version of the question: In what language do you have an orgasm? That should settle the matter if I knew.

현대 아프리카: 문화의 교차로에서, 치누아 아체베

어떤 사람들은 내가 이보어로 글을 쓰는 게 더 낫지 않겠냐고 말하곤 한다. 그리고는 결정타를 날리듯 묻는다. “꿈은 무슨 언어로 꾸세요?” 내가 “두 언어 다로 꿔요”라고 답하면, 대부분은 믿지 않는다. 요즘 들어서는 더 형이상학적인 질문도 들었다. “오르가즘은 무슨 언어로 느끼시나요?” 그 질문이라면 확실히 결론이 날지도 모르겠다. 내가 알고 있다면 말이다.

25-05-25

Is Nothing Sacred?, Salman Rushdie

And this, finally, is why I elevate the novel above other forms, why it has always been, and remains, my first love: not only is it the art involving the least compromises, but it is also the only one that takes the ‘privileged arena’ of conflicting discourses right inside our heads. The interior space of our imagination is a theatre that can never be closed down; the images created there make up a movie that can never be destroyed.

신성한 것은 없는가?, 살만 루슈디

이래서 나는 소설을 다른 어떤 예술보다도 높이 평가한다. 소설은 늘 내 첫사랑이었고, 지금도 그렇다. 소설은 가장 적은 타협으로 완성되는 예술일 뿐 아니라, 서로 충돌하는 담론들이 펼쳐지는 ‘특권적 무대’를 우리 머릿속 깊숙한 곳까지 끌고 들어오는 유일한 예술이기 때문이다. 상상이라는 내면의 공간은 결코 문을 닫을 수 없는 극장이고, 거기서 만들어지는 이미지는 결코 파괴될 수 없는 영화다.

25-05-24

Total Freedom, Jiddu Krishnamurti

Not the intelligence that is obtained from a book, or out of experience; that is not intelligence at all. Intelligence has nothing whatsoever to do with thought. Intelligence operates when the mind sees the whole, the endless whole—not my country, my problems, my little gods, my meditations. It sees the whole implication of living. And this quality of intelligence has its own tremendous energy.

완전한 자유, 지두 크리슈나무르티

책에서 얻은 지식이나 경험에서 나오는 이해는 진정한 지성이 아니다. 지성은 생각과는 아무 관련이 없다. 지성은 마음이 전체를 볼 때 작동한다. 내 나라, 내 문제, 내 자잘한 신념, 내 수행 방식이 아니라 삶 전체, 끝없는 전체를 보는 것이 지성이다. 그리고 이런 지성에는 그 자체로도 엄청난 에너지를 지닌다.

25-05-23

In a Tub, Amy Hempel

My heart–I thought it stopped. So I got in my car and headed for God. I passed two churches with cars parked in front. Then I stopped at the third because no one else had.

욕조 속에서, 에이미 헴펠

내 심장, 멎은 줄 알았다. 그래서 차를 몰고 신을 찾으러 나섰다. 교회 두 곳을 지나쳤다. 앞에는 차들이 주차돼 있었다. 그러다 세 번째 교회 앞에 차가 한 대도 없길래, 거기서 멈췄다.

25-05-22

Majesty, Miranda July

I am not the kind of person who is interested in Britain’s royal family. I’ve visited computer chat rooms full of this type of person, and they are people with small worlds, they don’t consider the long term, they aren’t concerned about the home front; they are too busy thinking about the royal family of another country.

왕권, 미란다 줄라이

나는 영국 왕실에 관심이 없다. 예전에 그런 사람들만 모여 있는 채팅방에 들어가 본 적이 있는데, 다들 좁은 세상에 갇혀 살고 있었다. 장기적인 관점도 없고, 자기 주변 일에도 관심이 없다. 그저 다른 나라 왕실 이야기만 하느라 정신이 없다.

25-05-21

Race and the African-American Writer, James Baldwin

One writes out of one thing only–one’s own experience. Everything depends on how relentlessly one forces from this experience the last drop, sweet or bitter, it can possibly give. This is the only real concern of the artist, to recreate out of the disorder of life that order which is art.

인종 그리고 아프리카계 미국인 작가, 제임스 볼드윈

사람은 오직 자신의 경험으로 글을 씁니다. 그 경험을 마지막 한 방울까지, 달콤하든 쓰라리든, 얼마나 집요하게 짜내느냐에 모든 것이 달려 있습니다. 예술가의 진정한 관심사는 삶의 혼돈 속에서 예술이라는 질서를 다시 만들어내는 것 뿐입니다.

25-05-20

예언자, 칼릴 지브란, 강은교 옮김

사랑으로 일함이란 무엇인가?
그것은 그대들 심장에서 뽑아 낸 실로 옷을 짜는 것, 마치 그대들 사랑하는 이가 입기라도 할 것처럼.
그것은 애정으로 집을 짓는 것, 마치 그대들 사랑하는 이가 살기라도 할 것처럼.
그것은 자비로 씨를 뿌리고 기쁨으로 거두어 들이는 것, 그대들 사랑하는 이가 그 열매를 먹기라도 할 것처럼.
그것은 또 그대들이 형상짓는 모든 것에 그대들만의 영혼의 숨결을 불어넣는 것.
그리하여 그대들 곁에는 언제나 모든 복받은 죽음들이 서서 바라보고 있음을 깨닫는 것이다.
...
노동이란 보이게 된 사랑.

The Prophet, Kahlil Gibran

And what is it to work with love?
It is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart, even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth.
It is to build a house with affection, even as if your beloved were to dwell in that house.
It is to sow seeds with tenderness and reap the harvest with joy, even as if your beloved were to eat the fruit.
It is to charge all things you fashion with a breath of your own spirit.
And to know that all the blessed dead are standing about you and watching.
...
Work is love made visible.

25-05-19

나쁜 책, 김유태

위험한 책에는 금서라는 딱지가 붙고 금서 중에서도 정말 위대한 책은 독자의 내면에 끊임없이 싸움을 걸어온다. 독서의 끝자락에서 어지럼증을 일으키는 책만이 불멸의 미래를 약속받는다.

Bad Books, Yoo Tae Kim

Books that pose a threat are labeled as banned, and among those, the truly great ones wage an unending battle within the reader. Only the books that leave you dizzy at the final page are promised an immortal future.

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“사람은 서울로, 말을 제주로.”

그래서 말머리씨는 제주에 삽니다.

엽서가게 옆에서 만납시다.

“Humans to Seoul, Horses to Jeju.”

That’s why Mal-muh-lee lives in Jeju.

See you at Yupp, an independent postcard store in Jeju.