I'll preface this entire project (lifestyle?) by quoting the lovely Margaret Atwood, just as I did my last blogging endeavor...
In The Blind Assassin Margaret Atwood writes:
“Why is it that we want so badly to memorialize ourselves? Even while we’re still alive. We wish to assert our existence, like dogs peeing on fire hydrants. We put on display our framed photographs, our parchment diplomas, our silver-plated cups; we monogram our linen, we carve our names on trees, we scrawl them on washroom walls. It’s all the same impulse. What do we hope from it? Applause, envy, respect? Or simply attention, of any kind we can get?
At the very least we want a witness. We can’t stand the idea of our own voices falling silent finally, like the radio running down.”
I offer this passage as the anthem to the Millennials. Say what you want about us, maybe we are all just attention seeking whores. But is it so bad to want a witness? Perhaps memorializing ourselves is not something undertaken in an act of attention seeking, but rather in pursuit of a future pause for reflection.
A year and a half ago, when I left the Northeastern US for Seoul, S. Korea, I deliberated for a long time over whether or not to keep a blog. In the end, I resolved to put away my blogger judgment and give it my best effort. Sure, I had a small audience who tuned in now and again to see me make an ass of myself in my new surroundings, but ultimately I wrote for myself. Looking back, it is easy for me to form opinions one way or another about my overall experience in Korea. But reading through that stupid blog chronicling the ups and downs over the span of my year in Korea reminds me that life is not just about the averages.
So, here I am again. Insert something cliché about "starting over" here.
In The Blind Assassin Margaret Atwood writes:
“Why is it that we want so badly to memorialize ourselves? Even while we’re still alive. We wish to assert our existence, like dogs peeing on fire hydrants. We put on display our framed photographs, our parchment diplomas, our silver-plated cups; we monogram our linen, we carve our names on trees, we scrawl them on washroom walls. It’s all the same impulse. What do we hope from it? Applause, envy, respect? Or simply attention, of any kind we can get?
At the very least we want a witness. We can’t stand the idea of our own voices falling silent finally, like the radio running down.”
I offer this passage as the anthem to the Millennials. Say what you want about us, maybe we are all just attention seeking whores. But is it so bad to want a witness? Perhaps memorializing ourselves is not something undertaken in an act of attention seeking, but rather in pursuit of a future pause for reflection.
A year and a half ago, when I left the Northeastern US for Seoul, S. Korea, I deliberated for a long time over whether or not to keep a blog. In the end, I resolved to put away my blogger judgment and give it my best effort. Sure, I had a small audience who tuned in now and again to see me make an ass of myself in my new surroundings, but ultimately I wrote for myself. Looking back, it is easy for me to form opinions one way or another about my overall experience in Korea. But reading through that stupid blog chronicling the ups and downs over the span of my year in Korea reminds me that life is not just about the averages.
So, here I am again. Insert something cliché about "starting over" here.
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