During last December, I did a lot of reflecting. From essays to journal entries and even Odyssey articles, I took time to write about the past year, my relationships with people, and everything that went wrong/right. Maybe from the new found habit of writing, or from the sentiment of something ending, I found myself reaching for my notebook in the last minutes of 2017.

I spent most of this year as an outsider. I started my last semester of high school in Boston and upon graduation toured around New York for a while. When I returned to Seoul, I felt like a visiter at my parent’s house, even more so because it was renovated since the last time I was there. For the rest of the summer, I visited Hong Kong and Dubai, places that I had only been as a child.

Interestingly the most “home” I felt was in Manhattan (Bobst specifically), where I spent the last four months. While I am currently in Chicago, by the time this gets published I’ll be back in Wisconsin. Actually, this time last year, I was in the same spot. Perhaps, I was thinking about 2016 as I am now looking back to 2017.

In general, this year was a regretful year for me. I had wished to accomplish much more than I actually did. I hoped that I would become someone I can respect and love, someone who looked after herself. I made plans to start going to the gym, calling my parents more often, drinking more water. While the list was filled with good habits that I wanted to start, most of them were forgotten by March.

On the other hand, I did start new things that I never planned for.

I attended ceramic classes, finding comfort with touching clay. There was something exciting from changing a slab of clay into a bowl or a cup using the centripetal forces of the wheel. Making a complete collection with pieces of different shapes by using the same color scheme or design felt very rewarding. Then, without letting anyone know, I started writing for the Odyssey.

While some people found out (because we have to publish on social media), I shared parts of my life with strangers that I wouldn’t have with people I knew. Sometimes with honesty and other times with a little bit of garnish. I’m quite practical in real life, I often wrote idealistically, thinking “who cares, they don’t know the real me.”

In creating, I found a sense of sincerity that I had previously forgotten. When you produce something, you give it life by putting a part of yourself. Whether you intend it or not, you are forced to be honest with that work (maybe not completely). Even if no one reads it or uses it, having an item that you can look back to is quite meaningful.

I have discovered that by looking at the yesterday’s self as today’s self, the latter can discover the flaws of the former. The past reveals to the present something that you didn’t know before. By understanding it one can better the present and future.

This year, I didn’t take time to write up new year’s resolutions. Considering I am a person who loves to schedule my future, even if I can’t actually follow, this is somewhat a big change. Rather than creating a superficial plan and giving up, I want to live with purpose, approaching what comes at my life with sincerity.

To do so, I don't need new additional resolutions. Instead, I must continue.