I just wrote a short daily memo to you before going to bed.
I had to, or your brain may have dropped something important or precious by dawn.
Post-COVID brain fog is really infuriating, huh?
Nonetheless, writing that memo was actually fun—I didn’t have to think much, just letting whatever came to mind manifest through my fingers.
In a similar vein, I was shocked that people actually read my
Steam review of Citizen Sleeper.
The me of the past didn’t record how she composed this, but I saw minimal editing and fairly unpolished structure—signs that she didn’t think anyone would read it, and she was just posting it as a thank-you gesture to the developers.
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” — William Shakespeare, Hamlet
The term “woowoo” often arises in discussions of spiritual things—unexplainable phenomena—or even conspiracy theories.
It carries quite a dismissive connotation.
Irrational.
Superstitious.
Nonsensical.
One of the YouTube creators I follow even puts in blaring “woowoo alerts” when discussing some not-so-scientific aspects.
The top-voted definition on Urban Dictionary1 perfectly captures the derogatory feelings of this word:
I’ve been wanting to do this for a pretty long time.
Wanting to set up a place.
A place to write things, where I own what I write.
A place not at the whim of some random megacorp walled gardens.
A place that represents who I am and what I do.
A place I can point people (or other internet-capable entities) to in social situations.
A place to keep all those fleeting ideas.
A place that holds the potential to attract interesting people with similar value.
A place that may one day be of help to someone else.
Then there was this constant voice in my head.
Who am I to write?
Aren’t I a
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Hojin Koh