I used to draw everyday. I had done so for a few years. Creating something of my own was my huge passion at the time, and drawing was one of those outlets. People was my frequent topic. I loved to draw people around me whether my loved ones and friends or even strangers. But among others, my most favorite model was myself. I liked the feeling of being immersed in drawing myself looking in the mirror. (Drawing others was also totally enjoyable while I can’t be sure if they were on the same page about this. Did they enjoy being drawn by me?) I started losing that passion by some incident and ended up stopping drawing completely. Even when I felt the need to start drawing again, some part of me resisted that voice. There had been friction in my mind for a long while since then. That might be the reason I joined “the 100 day drawing challenge” right away when I came across it on a certain social media platform a few months ago. Maybe I was hoping this could get my habit back. Although I was not a strong believer in an outside motivation, this little new attempt turned out working pretty well because it made me draw for 100 days anyway. There were some (if not, many) days when I wasn’t so happy about what I created, still it just felt right to draw again. Honestly, I doubted that it could mean anything if I draw out of duty, but I might have been wrong about it. When I was nearing the end of the challenge, I wasn’t even aware of how many days had passed already. Perhaps, it began as (kind of) an obligation, but grew into a habit in the end.

Travelling has certainly a magical power. While people say that travel can get you recharged, inspired, or whatever, I honestly used to not pay much attention to those kind of remarks. It’s not because I don’t agree with them, but just because it sounded like a cliche, something too obvious to state. But this trip, after more than a year of being restrained due to this pandemic, showed me clearly how powerful travel can be. After this 8 day trip, having had enough time to reflect on many things, I found myself refreshed, energized, and motivated. The first thing I did after coming back was cleaning and rearranging my room, which was one of so many things I had procrastinated for a long time. I can’t articulate what inspired me to do so, but I can say for sure that there is definitely something about travel. Getting out of the routine and putting myself in unfamiliar environments allows me to see myself in a new perspective, which wouldn’t be possible otherwise. I believe we need this kind of break to be more aware of everything around us and to realize again how things are not static and forever.

I don’t buy books that often any more. Rather, I try to keep my overall belongings as less as possible nowadays, and books are no exception in this regard. I’ve given away many of my books, and when I come across a book that looks interesting, I tend to think twice before purchasing it. It is only because I like having things as less as possible, whatever they are. Still, there are some times that I buy books, of course. It may mean I really liked and wanted to own those books. In 2018, I visited an independent bookstore in Kreuzberg, Berlin. Looking around it was such a special joy to me as an art lover, because it was selling art related books mostly, and many of them were so-called independent publications which were made and distributed in an independent way. After spending some time there happily, I bought a book. It was a pretty simple book, and not my cup of tea particularly, but I just felt there was something inspiring. (It is a collection of images in the author’s tablet PC, which mostly are quick watercolor drawings by the author and his friend. I can say it’s somewhere in between a journal and letter collection between those two people.) After coming back to Seoul, I soon forgot about the book. And this morning, the book on my book shelf just came to my eyes, I grabbed and read it again, and enjoyed the reading thoroughly. It reminded me of the trip, the atmosphere of the bookstore, how it looked, how books were stacked, and how a cat was strolling lazily through the books. Sometimes owning something can be a good way of bringing back memories.

I’m a coffee drinker like many other contemporaries in this modern world. I used to drink coffee a lot before, but these days I make sure to have only one cup of coffee a day. It’s mainly for my sleep, or more exactly put, the quality sleep. I’d had such a hard time with poor quality sleep for the past few years that I’ve got to have two rules for myself about coffee. The first is not to have more than one cup of coffee a day, and the second, not to drink coffee after 1-2pm. But the thing is that I have a night person’s type of timetable, meaning that I often wake up late and start my day late. After finishing my morning routine, including taking a shower, preparing and eating my breakfast, cleaning them, and doing yoga or something, then it’s easy to be 1-2pm already. Then, I find myself think hard about whether to drink coffee or not. These days I tend to just skip it in that case for a peaceful night later. But getting myself ready for the work with a good cup of coffee is one of my favorite moments in a day, so I get sad that I have to miss my share of coffee for the day. The solution is? Just to wake up a little bit earlier. I think it would be doable, if challenging.

A few years ago, I went to Helsinki, Finland. It was the first time I visited the country, so I was pretty excited. I used Finnair, the Finnish airline which provided a direct route between Seoul and Helsinki, so I was able to enjoy the comfortable flight overall. During the flight, I just happened to pick up a booklet put in the back of the seat. It was something like an airline magazine providing with general information about the country, including tourist spots, hotels and restaurants, and some souvenirs. There was nothing special to pay attention to it specifically, but there was one thing which caught my eyes right away. It was the cover, showing a portrait. Turning through the pages, I got to see some other paintings by the same painter, including landscapes and some more portraits. Many of her works had pale bluish and whitish colors with them, which radiated a calm and soft atmosphere. I just fell in love with the feeling of purity from the paintings. After landing in Helsinki, it was not long before I realized that the white and pale blue were like the representative colors of the country. Wherever I went, there was the vastness of blue and white from the sky, clouds, and the lake waters. After coming back to Seoul, I just forgot about the trip soon including the painter. But the other day, I had a pleasant surprise to find a movie whose title is Helene. I could recognize that the movie is about the very painter, Helene Schjerfbeck who grabbed my attention on the plane to Helsinki. I am so glad to be reminded of her in a few years now. I googled her and her works yesterday, which got me much more interested in her. Even though it’s a shame that I couldn’t think of visiting some places where I could see her works while staying in Helsinki, I would love to see her paintings in person if I have a chance in the future.

This morning, my dad got a hernia surgery. Although the surgery itself is not so dangerous, my dad turned 79 this year and has already had two serious abdomenal surgeries before, so my family was worried pretty much. What worried us most, however, was the fact that nobody could accompany with him once he went into the operating room and was moved to the recovery room becasue of this pandemic situation. Normally, the family members would be able to stay with the patient in the recovery room, but this time, nobody was allowed to go in there except the medical staff for safety reasons. So my dad was supposed to be hospitalized one night, being alone. Even though there would be a professional nursing team to attend to him, my family still felt uneasy. Maybe because of his poor sense of hearing which has been getting worse recently, his trademark quick temper and stubbornness, to name a few. Particularly during the past whole year, we witnessed how he found it extremely hard to stay at home longer and go out less frequently. He seemd to need whatever would distract him. What my sister and I could do for him was to try our best to select the best hospital at the best location with the best doctor. Thankfully, we were able to find the right one. So since my sister drove him to the hospital, and he went into the operating room this morning, my family had little choice but to wait. In the evening, my mom let me know she finally got a call from him. And what she said surprised me. She said that he told her thank you for having raised children this beautifully. To be honest, I was pretty surprised and moved by it, because he had never been the type of person who would say anything like that in his entire life. Perhaps he felt something this time. He might have felt all the more keenly the meaning of familiar yet precious things. "Ae-deul-eul Ee-reot-ge Jal Kee-wo-jueo-seo Go-ma-woe." I want to remember these little moments of love in life for a long time. ​ ​

I have an old habit. No, actually, two. One is to keep a journal. I've been writing a journal for about 15 years now. At first, it began just because I felt the need to talk whatever I wanted, and realized that it was not always possible to have somebody to listen to it. It started for that simple reason, and I've kept a journal almost everyday since then. It doesn't matter how long it is, or how detailed the description is—it is rather like a poem than a prose often times—as this is basically about being connected to myself and checking out how I am doing. With this old habit, now I have a few big boxes of diaries. My another old habit is to collect CDs. Yes, I still buy CDs even in this time of technology. I'm such a huge fan of music that I ended up having good several hundred CDs now. I know how easily I can download and enjoy music these days without having them occupy my space. It definitely seems like a more convenient and reasonable choice. But, still there is something uniquely good about having my favorite music in a physical form. All in all, this might be because I am such an analogue type of person. But the problem is space. As I am growing older, I find myself prefer to minimize my belongings as much as possible. For a simpler life, I even got rid of almost half of my books last year. On the contrary to my wish, however, my diaries, CDs, and books only have been increasing stealthily. Things seem to be getting virtual and digitalized more rapidly than ever right now, and I expect that this would be accelerated more, if not less. As I’m not the exception of this trend, many of my short thoughts have been already jotted down on the notepad in my iPhone and Macbook. Besides, tons of music files and e-books are scattered here and there somewhere in my hard drives. Digitalization seems like an irreversible flow, in a way. I sometimes think until when I would keep these analogue habits of mine. If this trend continues, I may break them yet.

During this quarantine/pandemic period, I found out that the most annoying thing is to witness my mind wandering relentlessly. Even though people are not so strictly required to stay at home here in my city, I still try to be at home as much as possible. As a matter of fact, I’ve been working as a freelancer for many years now, it’s not a big deal for me to spend many hours at my place. Overall, I don’t have any serious complaints about having narrower boundaries. But the thing is that the longer the days of my confinement is getting, the clearer I can see my mind is running crazy as ever. I find myself getting distracted way too easily while sitting in front of the computer for my work. Or I just fall into a rut of useless repeated thoughts. As far as I found so far, the best remedy for this is doing yoga. I can be at the moment at least while moving my body and breathing with the asanas. It obviously helps a lot in these uniquely introspective days. The point is an ability to stand up and place myself on a yoga mat, though.

Reading Paper Books In the Era of Technology Several years ago, I happened to read a novel "Word Exchange" by Alena Graedon. It was kind of a science fiction depicting the near-future world which is infected by a "language virus". Even though I didn't enjoy reading it that much, there turns out to be some points which are still ligering in my mind. In the story, the "language virus" appeared one day, and started to paralyze people's ability to think independantly. At first, people seemed to lose their ability to speak properly, or remember the right words. Soon, however, they ended up losing their mind totally, or even their lives. The cure for this fatal symptom turned out to be reading. Reading while not being online at all. After finishing the book, I just forgot about it soon. But these days, I find myself thinking that the very idea of being cured by reading texts and keeping away from going online for a period of time makes sense quite a lot. Because I sometimes find myself feeling lost while reading and watching materials on the internet just endlessly. I think I can even say that I get addicted on the internet in those moments. A few days ago, I brought a collection of poetry on my way to going out, and read it on the subway. It had been a long time since I read paper books instead looking at my smartphone in my spare time, which made me feel so satisfied and calm.