Today Is My Birthday

The people I'm grateful for

There have been a lot of days I only got through because of Patternflow. Every day, like a ritual, I make a pattern. It takes anywhere from one hour to two — hard work, maybe — but as long as I'm doing at least this, I'm okay. It's good to feel useful. Like I've become someone worth something, and I catch myself hoping someone will look. I post it to Instagram, but the response isn't what it used to be. Did people get bored already? Or was I just really lucky back then? Still, it's good. There are a few people who say they like it. I feel seen.

The number of people in the community I'm grateful for keeps growing. They share the questions and thoughts that come up while they build. Some go further — they run experiments and tell me what they found. You can't do that without caring about the thing. I owe them something back for the care they've shown. I have to raise Patternflow well.

Today is my birthday

Let me write a diary entry. You don't have to read it if you don't want to. Honestly, reading this kind of thing won't do you much good.

May 29th is my birthday. I've never been one to make a big deal of it. When a few people said happy birthday I'd feel a little grateful, but mostly afraid. Other people seem to get so many wishes — I was afraid I wouldn't. And this birthday was, without question, the worst. I hate getting deeply tangled up with people. It scares me. Someone told me I don't seem to know where the line is. That I keep crossing it. Too much of the good, too much of the bad. The good is fine, but the bad turns into a problem. A very big problem. And then I'm soaked in dread. When the fault is so clearly mine that I can't make a single excuse, I worry that even my apology will look fake. I just end up unable to do anything at all. And running away would make me a bad person too, so I can't even do that.

I turned off the birthday reminders on KakaoTalk. If someone wished me happy birthday — especially the kind of people who, with the reminder on, would never fail to notice and send one — I didn't think I could take it. I did something that doesn't deserve celebrating, and being celebrated would make me hate myself. I wouldn't be able to bear it. But it isn't only my fault. Ugh — no. Thinking like this again just wears me out. I'm so tired now. Walking down the street, something rises in my throat. Eating, the same thing. I can't cry outside — too embarrassing — so I hold it in as much as I can. It's fine, it's fine, I repeat to myself, walking fast toward home. Only the moment the front door clicks fully shut does it finally let go. Strangely, the more I held it in, the less I can actually cry.

People scare me. More precisely, I'm afraid someone will dislike me. If it's someone I knew, someone the relationship was good with, even more so. For the first time in a long while it was hard to leave the house. But I go out anyway. Things have to get done. I go to class. I can't follow a word anyone's saying. I'm full of dread about the thing happening tonight. My stomach turns. I leave early and get lunch. I feel like I might cry. I leave half of it and head home. There's a mentoring session at the Seoul Design Startup Center. I have to go. Just a little longer, a little longer, then I'll go. I think about tonight. I'm scared. Time to go now. Damn — I left a little late. I run. I can't be late. If I'm late they'll dislike me. It's hot but I run. I weave through the crowd, hurrying. I barely make it. Then I wait about ten minutes for the person ahead of me to finish. I didn't need to run. No — I made it on time.

I introduce Patternflow. I had no time to prepare. No script, trying to cram it into five minutes off the cuff, I talk fast. A chime — the timer. Five minutes are up and I'm only halfway through. I finish it all anyway. They say the ending was too abrupt. That I talked too fast. That it'd be nice if I smiled while presenting. I want to, too. It's not that I don't know how to give a good talk. I've done it really well before. But today I couldn't. There was no way I could. Still, I answer with a smile. They say that's better to watch. That I should do exactly that in real interviews. It felt fake, but strangely it felt good. I feel like I shouldn't be smiling, and the me that's smiling feels a little off.

I got plenty of advice on the content, too. Too artsy, they say. Since they're choosing people who'll start companies, talk in numbers, they say. Make it concrete — how will you make money. I don't know. Patternflow isn't built to sell a product and keep a margin. I'll spread it as cheaply as I can. Or have people build it themselves. The money I want to get from people who have it — companies, or the rich who spend on art. Whether that's even possible, I don't know. But I'm doing it anyway. That's exactly why I'm doing it. And yet they keep asking me for proof. I don't know. Make it look like the proof exists somehow, they say — but isn't that just telling me to lie? I wanted to get angry. I don't want to lie. I just want to do this as art. I don't care if it works. I can do it alone. And there are already people doing it with me.

One mentor, a former broadcaster, puts it a little differently. She says I could brand myself — the person. That that looks better. She asks why I make Patternflow. Because it's fun. Because I love seeing my own pattern glow right in front of me. Because I love that I can touch it with my hands. Explain that well, she says. Not from my point of view — in a way others can understand. And another mentor said one line as we wrapped up. "I want to make media art something anyone can do." Ah — that's it, I thought. That's the reason I shared Patternflow in the first place. Everything else is the same. I want to help other people be able to do it. Just do it, I've laid it all out for you, give it a try — and then go make your own. That was it. When I got home and looked at the notes I'd written long ago, I was startled. "Make it easy to build" — the phrase was written over and over. How had I forgotten this. Making it easy was the most important thing. Easy and fun.

The mentoring ends. Now I have to go to Dongdaemun Market. I'm on the exhibition's art-directing team, in charge of the space and equipment, so I have to. I was the one who said let's buy fabric, so I have to. First time there. So many people. Like another world. Everything around me is strange and new. I haggle over prices. I'm in no mood to smile, it's hard, but I smile and talk. I go around several shops and come back. But the answer that comes back is that it's too thin, it won't work. I know that. After all the care I put in, how would I not know? Of course I know. But what makes it harder than that is that no one acknowledges it. Good work, that must've been hard — could they not just put one line like that first? I walked around swallowing tears, forced a smile on the subway, went somewhere I'd never been, tried — and came back. I just stopped wanting to do any of it. At the meeting tonight I wanted to say I'm done. I really meant to.

Back home I sit for a while and stare at nothing. Time to move again. I have to go to the exhibition-club meeting. The thing that's been gnawing at me all day. I'm so scared. But I have to go. Because I'm the dev team lead. Because I said I would. I went. I just want to run. I go in. I sit down. It's hard to look at anyone's face. If our eyes meet I'll cry. I'm scared. Someone tells me to have a snack. They say eat, so I eat. I feel like throwing up. I hold on. Everyone sits on the other side. I feel set apart, just me. I hate it. I really hate it. I hate it so much. I present the dev team's progress. I look only at the monitor. I can't bring myself to look at anyone. It ends. I get up fast, like I'm fleeing, and slip out. I say a quick goodbye only to the teammate beside me and run. I go home. It's hard.

I'd meant to go to the gym. If my body's worn out, at least I won't notice my mind being worn out. But I'm so hungry. And there's a video call soon. I head home. I order jeyuk and wolf it down. Honestly, I didn't want to do the call either. I didn't want to do any of it. I wanted to say I'm too worn out to keep going, that this is surely enough, and quit. I wanted to push harder on the fabric, too. I wanted to hear that I'd worked hard, that it had been tough. But I'm too tired, so I don't. I just give up and say let's drop the fabric. And somehow — why? — I feel lighter. I laugh. The meeting I'd braced for as the worst isn't bad. It's actually good. After it ends, I finish the work I needed to do. We decide to drape the fabric over just the modules. It looks so much better that way. Honestly, I like it. Even though I spent so long calculating how to cover the whole thing. So much effort, but it's okay. This is better.

Then I make a Patternflow pattern. I keep at it until one I like comes out. They all look kind of the same now. Nothing new or good will come. It probably won't get a good response either. I do it anyway. Making one a day gives me the feeling that I got something done. Now homework. It's a class called something like "the art of examining yourself and building a life." The content is as unusual as the name. This assignment is to interview my own life. What kind of person I am, what relationships I've had, who I want to become. With the list of questions up in front of me, as I talk there come moments where the words just stop. Who do I want to become. Someone worth calling first. Someone people want to be around. Someone people want to be with. That's what I want to be. I want to be a good person. But I don't know if I can. I thought maybe I should just give up on being good. I couldn't. I may not be a good person, but I couldn't turn into a bad one. Because then I think no one would come looking for me. Because then I'd have no one on my side.

In a recent counseling session we went somewhere fairly deep, too. I only reach for the things that shine. The moment I feel someone acknowledges something, I go all in. Whatever gets less acknowledgment, I drop without mercy. If other people are involved it's bearable, but for the things that are only mine, no mercy. No room for reconsideration, she said. It's too extreme. Why is that. If someone doesn't acknowledge me, I'm scared. It's hard. But she tells me to imagine it. To picture it. How would it feel — how did it feel — when someone didn't acknowledge a work I'd made. It feels bad, but it doesn't matter. The essence is somewhere else anyway. It isn't the work that's wrong, it's the reading of it. So why can't I apply that to myself. Why must I be acknowledged. The session ran out and we stopped, but I know the answer. I feel worthless. Because I feel I have no essence, I need acknowledgment from outside. Because without even that, I don't think I could stand myself. I wonder what knowing even changes. I don't know if I can change it. A lot of people advised me to date someone. That it would fix things. That I should. But getting that close scares me now. You have to show the weak parts of yourself.

Even posting something like this here puzzles me. I'm pouring out things you'd only put in a diary — maybe wouldn't even put in a diary. Am I shouting "I'm struggling right now" out loud, hoping for at least a little comfort? Maybe I'm hoping someone will notice. Probably. For now, I think I'll just focus on Patternflow. Because everyone acknowledges it. Because they tell me it's good, that it's worth something. Will I go on living by leaning myself against the shining ones among the things I've made? And the ones that don't shine — will I toss them aside easily, the way I always do? Will I live afraid, in everything, of being tossed aside myself? If some kind of faith took hold, could it change? The way Nam June Paik believed in Zen.

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And then I went into Crowd Supply and checked. Final approval. Accepted. So it looks like the contract process will start soon too.

Yesterday was my birthday, and it arrived exactly then. Yeah, right when I was writing this post. Right when I was writing that I was having a hard time, it arrived. The timing was exact. It feels like a birthday present.

I'm so happy I feel like I'm going to lose my mind. With this, the final interview presentation for the Seoul Design Startup Center the week after next feels like it has to work out too. I'm so happy. I know this is going to get fucking hard, but I'm so happy.