Caught in my day-to-day. Eight to five. Eight to five. Someday, I'll know a life without chains and due dates and puppies nibbling at my ankles. The school year has picked up and I can't seem to put it down long enough to sit back in an easy chair and pound out this account. I find it much harder to reflect and rereflect when I'm busy and happy.

For the first time in as long as I can remember, it’s nice to be outside. The snow melted ages ago and I’m reaching for a cool glass of lemonade, sitting on my patio. Make that Pepsi. I wanted a burger this afternoon—on account of the fact that I’ve been saving myself, caloricly speaking, for the weekend. I walked to thirty minutes to the closest McDonalds rip-off (Lotteria) and found that the Boryeong oasis of Westernism had been torn to bits by a future enterpriser. I assume this is because it hadn’t been doing a lot of business, which baffles me because every time I walked into the place, I was stocked full of high school girls buying ice creams and soda pops and giggling about boys. And given that this is an embodied perspective, the main giggling was in response to me. I’ve had worse problems. So now, I sit here at a pizza joint a block away from the ghost of euphoria and stare at its dead, rotting carcass, thinking of all the memories we shared.

I would find out later that this was merely a renovation. The oasis is intact and better than ever. Time for pictures. Baby Buddha, the water salesman. Myonghwa and I went to this art exhibit in Insadong (the art epicenter of Seoul).