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The Perfect is the Enemy of the Done

Writer’s block is a bitch, you guys.

At some point in the last 2 months an unlucky alchemical reaction has occurred in my life, rendering what was strange and story-worthy into a long series of small steps towards normalcy. That isn’t to say I’m bored in Korea; I just can’t really believe that anyone else could find these stories very interesting. It’s a matter of acclimation, I think. I’ve stopped burning for Korea and am instead just living there, which is in some way a terrible but entirely predictable loss. Like, old age or the way the fifth lick of the ice cream cone is never as good an the first.

In some fundamental way, I’m no longer puzzled by Korea. There is still a blurriness around the edges, but overall, my new life feels figured out. I’m not able to unpack Korean society in any meaningful or precise way, but that consuming bafflement—so exhausting but invigorating—has given way to a more mild version of itself.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry I’ve been so quiet lately. I’m back in California being absolutely mugged by jet lag (not fun, you guys), but this homecoming certainly offers plenty of material and, more importantly, energy to get the job done. So, more soon? Here’s hoping.

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