I’m back, baby.
It’s been about two years since my last post (my harangue against life on my 28th birthday). The first wave of the pandemic shook my core, and I froze all writing and creative ventures. Everything felt so meaningless. And futile. Who the fuck cares about what I write? I certainly didn’t. So, naturally I stopped. I took down my website and put it in the back-burner.
Until I woke up to an email saying WordPress auto-charged me for two more years. Well, shit.
That was a year ago, a few months after I got rejected from PhD programs (I’ll get to it later. But that’s the gist: I got rejected, and I was depressed). I did revamp the site, shift the focus, and then once again left it in the back-burner.
Now, I’m drafting this (re)launch post in my local coffee shop in 잠실 (Jamsil), my neighborhood in 서울 (Seoul), which is where I live. Yes, I’m a Seoulite. A lot has happened.
This time I want to do more than just log the ins-and-outs, the wants-and-dones of life. I want to write because I want creative life to juice my brain again. I want to savor clarity and cadence, a well-written sentence, a suggestive or rambunctious semi-colon or em-dash—you know, nerdy shit.
It’s not just I want to feel alive again; I want to care again. I’ve done “nothing-matters” and “world-is-going-to-burn-anyways” nihilism. Fun stuff but too exhausting. Not caring is more draining than caring. At least when you care you can feel fed and full. Not caring can feel “refreshing,” but anything is annoying when it overstays its initial welcome. All fresh things can rot.
I will type words; I will put words down.
I will plaster the online space once again; I will care again.