As I was contemplating the last letter, I noticed a fairly big problem.
The trick.
It didn’t work.
Once I sensed my intention to publish this letter, my writing changed—“when I had some kind of external audiences in mind,” indeed.
But who did I really intend to write for?
I mean, if I couldn’t get rid of the feeling that someone’s gonna read this, I probably should try to understand the essence of that “someone,” right?
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.
I had always believed the “work for 40 years then retire and enjoy life” script1.
I started my corporate life in 2014.
I didn’t really enjoy it.
I wasn’t interested in climbing the corporate ladder, either.
Of course there were still promotions and things—but I couldn’t find a role model I wanted to become.
“Work’s just like that,” people said.
I procrastinated, putting myself into autopilot, attempting to push through these 40 years of employment.
Until I can’t anymore.
I had been coasting in autopilot for 6 years when The 2020s2 hit.
And
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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882 words
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Hojin Koh