I’m not everything I want to be yet, but I’m a lot of things I wanted to be 2 years ago, and what a wonderful thing it is to realize that.

- A quote I saved from Pinterest this month

1st Oct. 2025, Wed.

I’m feeling the urge to declutter. Keeping track of everything that I particularly don’t have an affinity for is eating at my brain. But I hold a lot of guilt. Many of these items have a lot of memories tied to them. Contradictory? When I look at the item itself, I don’t inspired to utilize them. Instead, they are like memory capsules. I remember when they once sparked joy and had a use case. This is the reason why it feels very difficult to get rid of them. The belongings feel like evidence that my memories hold true. The concrete evidence that the abstract past was once reality. But the thing is, these items serve a purpose. Clothes are meant to be worn. Pens are meant to be used. They deserve better homes. Quite sad to imagine the belongings collecting dust. They deserve a better life. As for me, I need to make space for new things to come.

2nd Oct. 2025, Thurs.

MONTHLY INTENTIONS

1. take care of health (exercise, diet)

2. spend less time on social media

3. read 2 books (current read counts!)

4. be creative (draw more, write more, craft more)

5. slow down and be mindful

6. continue to learn something

7. spend more time outdoors

TO BE READ

1. Hangsaman by Shirley Jackson

2. The Juniper Tree by Barbara Comyns

3. Great Granny Webster by Caroline Blackwood

ACTIVITIES

1. peachtober

2. making my own graphic tee

3. going to the aquarium

4. writing a schedule list for daily routines

5. visiting the doctor’s office

6. decluttering

7. pottery class with a friend

8. sewing

9. studying philosophy

8th October 2025, Wed.

I started morning pages today. I just needed an outlet for my loud morning thoughts. Since completing those pages, I feel like I have more mental clarity. I don’t desire nor feel the need to ruminate like I usually do. I’m not sure if I mentioned this before, but I’m trying to build better habits so that I can feel more comfortable in my own body. When my mind starts to wander too much, I feel like I’m losing control and shackled to something I don’t want to be shackled to. It’s only been the first day so I can’t say too much on how effective it is. Only time will tell. But so far, I feel at peace. Because journaling in general has been helpful, but also fun (RIP wallet to fountain pens and inks), I’m trying to do more of it. Because thoughts come and go, I can’t capture any future thoughts in the present. So I’ve come up with evening journaling. So my journal routine is this:

1. morning pages (3 pages of stream of consciousness)

2. afternoon journaling / daily thoughts (go off of prompts or whatever comes to mind. things don’t have to be profound)

3. evening journaling (dumping ground for whatever thoughts I have before bed)

That being said, I also have other brain dump notebooks that I can utilize whenever I want. I don’t need to constrain myself and be organized to the invisible constraints I’ve made for myself.

10th October 2025, Fri.

One thing that I’m lowkey apprehensive of is drawing the same thing that I drew last time. I’m not sure why I feel that way because there is no rule saying that I need to create something new each and every time. Also, the first that I did the drawing is probably not even that great. If I draw it again, it can be something better. Giving myself permission here to draw something again and again. No pressure for it to be new. If it brings me joy to be repetitive, then so be it. If I create for me first, perhaps others will see it too. I create from my soul to describe my inner world — all the experiences and influences I’ve encountered. See the world through my lens. See things again and again.

16th October 2025, Thurs.

Ever since I started doing morning pages, I often found myself not knowing what to write in my journals here. I didn’t want to seem like I was repeating myself. I had also forgotten that I can refer to journal prompts. But sometimes I felt that I simply didn’t want to journal. I started journaling because I needed an outlet for one and for two, I wanted to curate a better relationship with myself. Was I feeling that I didn’t want to hangout with myself since I did the majority of that in the morning? Was I looking for something more profound to write about in my day journal? It’s not that I’m afraid that someone would read my entries so that I feel the pressure to perform for them. I do think that part of the reason has to do with me seeing certain parts of journaling a chore. There are other activities that I want to get to that I think that sitting to journal multiple times a day is a waste of time. I do believe that if I don’t want to write, I don’t have to write. With that though comes guilt. I’m not sure why. This isn’t some school work that I need to turn in. So why the pressure to sit and write?

17th October 2025, Fri.

Is this pen running out of ink? I think so. My focus has been all over the place. Some come from bad habits. A good part come from the fact that I’m going to start my period soon. What I had initially planned to write about was my thoughts on social media. I keep getting distracted :(. I heard from my sister that the author for I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokkbokki has passed away. I saw a review that said, “It was refreshing to see that the author never dares to make normative conjectures about how the world should be.” I personally think that this isn’t a good(?) mindset to have. I haven’t read the novel yet so I can’t say for certain. However, I believe that blaming your problems on the world is not entirely healthy. I think to fully point to yourself as a problem can also be a dangerous mindset to have. I don’t think one should fully accept that the world given to them is the standard, and they need to conform themselves to it. Both things can be true. Yes, as a person you have flaws and can work to fix them and grow - especially if they are detrimental to you and/or others. Part of that is simply being human. The society that we live in is also man made. It is also flawed. Another point to mention is that Korean culture seems to normalize placing blame on oneself. It is more common in western culture for people to want to blame on external factors in my own experience.

20th October 2025, Mon.

I did some preliminary thinking about social media and phone usage and how it shapes our consumerism tendencies and self identity. I want to start by saying that I don’t think social media is all bad. I think it is a great way for people to connect in a way that allows information to spread in an easier way. As opposed to letter mail, one can obtain news in a click of a button. You can share ideas instantaneously. While the crux of overconsumption and consumerism is with the issues of late stage capitalism, I can’t help but wonder that social media is skewing our view of consumerism as well. The internet is seemingly a hub of marketing. We are being sold the idea of obtaining the latest and greatest product or service (i.e. that new hotdog restaurant that everybody is supposedly salivating for). It just feels that every time I step outside, my ideas of having fun stem from having seen it on social media. Why is social media influencing the way that I live my life? Am I genuinely interested in this, or is it social social media speaking, and I don’t want to experience FOMO (fear of missing out)?

I recently watched a snippet of an art history YouTube video by Shannon Kim. She mentioned how our identities aren’t solely ours because we are indirectly told by the internet how to act, dress, look if we want to fit a certain narrative or aesthetic. I don’t think human beings are original creatures. Our identities are shaped by our own experiences and what we see. These are natural human qualities. But when these influences are only from the internet, it feels ingenuine. Trends come and go. Often times. internet shaped identities feel less authentic because it lacks the that human quality of experience and critical thinking. Fashion and the arts are aesthetics that are highly political. People dress a certain way to convey a message. When that message is to fit a certain social media image, it feels less human and a bit robotic(?). Everybody wants to look, act, and dress the same. Everybody has the same goods and want to achieve the same things. We aren’t meant to be a hive mind. What a boring life that would be.

Anyways, these are just some thoughts I had as I started to monitor my social media consumption. I was starting to feel unhappy so I made the change to check social media and my phone in general less frequently. Since doing so, I feel less stressed since I didn’t feel this invisible pressure that my life had to look a certain way. I used to be concerned about the lack of time since time seemed to move by so quickly. As long as you are occupied, time will seem to go by quickly, but I feel less obsessed by it. I feel more satisfied and grounded knowing that i spent it by creating something with my hands, reading, learning, and journaling. Time is moving, but so am I. I felt so stagnant when I was doom scrolling, but time was slipping between my fingers.

Overall, I feel satisfied and grounded with reality. I can better gauge if my interests are from social media or my own. I am more intentional about why I open up Instagram or TikTok.

My end goal isn’t to eliminate these apps. I am relearning how to gain control over them so that they shape my life a little less.

21st October 2025, Tue.

Blackbird by The Beatles has been stuck in my head. I have it playing right now and listening to it on repeat.

The more that I am connected to the present, the less concerned I am about the future.

22nd October 2025, Wed.

I called my mom today. I usually call her once a week on Wednesdays. I already heard from my sister yesterday that she got her second piercing. She told me that she thought it was cool how double piercings looked. She kept seeing them on other people and thought she would regret not get it herself when the opportunity rose. She’s becoming cooler than me. I wondered for a bit if I should just commit to getting a tattoo.

The fact that she got a second piercing surprised me as certain piercings and tattoos can be seen as taboo in Korean culture. But it also has shown me that my mom is just a girl. She has the desire to want different things and change up her appearance — just like me.

I had a brief conversation with my sister and husband about how social media has ruined the emotional impact that the news has on us. This has become more apparent since I have been offline longer than being online. It’s so jarring(?) to see someone post something so serious regarding the news and politics, only for the next click to be of someone grabbing an iced coffee at a local coffee shop and living up their life. Maybe this is a “me” problem, but it’s insane to me that this sort of whiplash is normalized.

Undertale Lore (Reddit and Google)

• created by Toby Fox to explore a non-violent approach to role-playing games, challenging the traditional “kill or be killed” formula by rewarding peaceful solutions and creating a story that genuinely react to player’s choices

• inspired by the classic RPG’s like Earthbound

• Deltarune was the original project, and Fox worked on Undertale as a smaller project first

• was Fox’s solo development inspiration from a vivid dream

• 2015 indie game

• The different paths:

  • Neutral - you’ll fight some and spare some. you won’t befriend everyone. prerequisite for accessing True Pacificist route

  • True Pacifist - “true” good ending where the protagonist resolves conflict with the monsters peacefully. must avoid killing any monsters in this process

  • Genocide - a secret and difficult route. requires players to deliberately seek out and kill every single monster in each area of the game. Tests the player’s willingness to engage in complete destruction

How to Never get Angry Again (Jamie Social - YouTube)

• Anger is a choice

• Stress chemicals that create anger get flushed out in 90 seconds — we keep anger alive by feeding it

• Anger isn’t actually anger. It is the equivalent of an emotional security guard. Shows up to protect secondary emotions of hurt, fear, or shame.

• Between trigger and response, there is a space. In that space lies your freedom. “No matter what happens to you, you always have the freedom to choose your response” - Viktor Frankl, Austrian neurologist, psychiatrist, philosopher, and holocaust survivor

You are Constantly Changing and That’s Brilliant!! (Soggyrice3 - YouTube)

• I am fluid, and everyone else around me is fluid — like water

• Fault of labelling people as a “certain kind” of people: you expect certain kind of behavior from them. The issue is, if person A was assumed to be a certain kind of person and they did an action, I would assume they did that kind of action because they are this kind of person. Before I had a chance to process what they had done or said, I already smooshed it together into my idea of this person. You’re not processing the behavior for what it is.

• I’ve never met anyone

• Even my partner and best friend who I’m insanely vulnerable with — they too, have not actually met me because they are still getting a very limited version of Aleks — they are still processing. It’s their interpretation of Aleks. I don’t know my best friend truly. I just know my interpretation of her.

• When you see people as fixed beings and label them from your interpretation, it makes life boring.

Beer, Software, and Internet Art (Shannon Kim - YouTube)

• The way I socialize has been incredibly influenced by the internet

• Growing up chronically online = self teaching through the internet

• Passive online media consumption is the process of being captured and cornering yourself into this very curated individual space that you think you have created yourself — but no, it’s something that the system has created to sell back to you

• Internet began as experimental network in the late 1960’s — originally to be used as communication tool for the military

• Homebrew → so much of the programming language and culture has this linguistic metaphor of beer

• “Free software is like free speech, not free beer” - Richard Stallman, MIT, advocated for open source

• There was a movement called Free Beer, humorously modeled after open source

  • encourage sharing different beer recipes

• There seems to be a relationship with commodity trading and socializing

• Open source → doesn’t really cost the inventor of the code anything and so doesn’t lose anything if other people freeloaded off the code and don’t contribute anything back

  • big corporations trying to monetize off of a non tangible commodity like data seems a bit silly

• Does technology solve society’s problems?

• Internet is not a medium for art. It just transmits data

• “Capitalism cannot be criticized form within capitalism” - Richard Barbook, media theorist

songs / artists: Blackbird by The Beatles, guitar instrumentals, Fleetwood Mac, The Smiths

dessert: pumpkin pie

perfumes: Himitsu Violet by Regime des Fleurs and Maison Louis Marie No. 4

book: Hangsaman by Shirley Jackson (still reading)

activities: jewelry making, sewing dolls, crocheting socks, lighting incense, going on walks, cleaning fountain pens

games: Stardew Valley and Undertale

Author’s Note:

i hope you enjoyed this month’s letter!

this is something new that i’m trying out. i often find myself not knowing what to write for my substack and felt this pressure to write something profound. i also do not see myself as a good writer. writing was my weakest skill in school. (if you are the grammar police, please excuse any mistakes that you have seen)

however, i do enjoy journaling, reflecting, and learning new things on the daily so i decided to compile entries that i like and was willing to share. hopefully, you have learned something new with me or maybe resonated with some of the things i have thought about.

i will see you guys in the next letter! take care <3

with love,

emma

“To live in this world you must be able to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.”

— from In Blackwater Woods by Mary Oliver

I didn’t grow up close to my grandfather — at least not in the physical sense. We lived countries apart, separated by a long-haul flight and a lifetime of phone calls. We met in person only three times. Still, I always felt his warmth. It came through in the way he remembered little details, in the soft yet firm cadence of his voice, in how he never rushed a conversation. Time didn’t seem to matter — he made space for connection anyway.

We shared a love I didn’t realize until recently — a love for scent. Months ago, I fell for Le Labo’s Matcha 26, a fragrance that felt like a warm hug, soft, fuzzy, and earthy, something that wrapped around me when the world grew too loud. I introduced it to my mom, and she, in turn, gifted it to my grandfather. He wore it every day. I never had the chance to smell it on him, but my sister told me it turned woody on his skin — perhaps reminiscent of the hinoki wood of the cabin he built with his own hands, tucked quietly in the trees.

He built that cabin in the forest in just a few months — a small, sacred place made of wood and solitude. I never got the chance to visit it while he was alive. I’ve only seen the photos he showed me: slanted sunlight pouring through windows, the quiet hush of trees leaning close, and the gentle contemplation on his face as he sat on a round coffee table with tea in hand. My grandfather, a man who taught himself English with the hope of one day moving to the States, had carved out a quiet freedom for himself in the woods — a home built with his hands, where he could listen to the wind and feel at peace.

He never got to live in the States, but he did get to use the English he practiced for decades. He spoke it with my husband — patiently, joyfully, as if a small dream had quietly come true.

My grandfather loved nature, loved making things, loved deeply and without spectacle. It’s the kind of love that sneaks up on you — the kind you don’t realize has shaped you until you find yourself picking up the same habits. Until you realize that a scent you chose for your wedding, a scent you and your husband both now wear, was also the scent your grandfather wore every day. That somehow, unknowingly, your lives had overlapped in the smallest and most intimate of ways.

I wore Matcha 26 on the day we got married. It smelled like comfort. On my husband, it still smells like home. On my skin, it calms me when I feel insecure. I didn’t know it would become a scent I’d associate with grief too — but maybe that’s the power of fragrance. It holds all of it. The joy, the sorrow, the spaces in between.

On the plane ride home from his funeral, he visited me in a dream. He stood in a white room, holding a white telephone. He wore a brown barn jacket and matching pants — he looked at ease. “Thank you for coming,” he said, “Have a safe trip home.” His voice was steady, his face soft. The dream left me with a strange peace. It felt like a goodbye, but also a promise — that some bonds, even across distance and time, don’t fray.

My grandfather always wished for harmony between his children. But like many family stories, this one was complicated. Distance can build walls that love alone can’t always tear down. My mom tried — she tried more than anyone should have to. But trying alone is exhausting when no one reaches back. In the end, I think what she carries isn’t just grief for her father, but the quiet ache of a wish left unfulfilled.

Still, I believe his spirit lives in the little things — in the scent of hinoki wood, in the trees that stand watch over his cabin, in the perfume I spritz on my wrist when I need to feel grounded. He didn’t get to tell his story to the world. But I will. He was a remarkable person — not loud or showy, but quietly extraordinary.

This is my way of fulfilling a part of his dream — to carry his story across the ocean, to let him be known, even just a little.

I carry his scent. I carry his memory.

I carry the quiet parts of him that deserve to be seen.

Song I have been listening to on repeat since my grandfather’s passing:

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“A great soul serves everyone all the time. A great soul never dies. It brings us together again and again.”

— Maya Angelou

Grief is not easy, and pets are no exception. Benny our orange tabby, had passed away this Wednesday morning. He suffered from heart failure with fluid building up into his lungs. The vets advised that it was best to let him go. So just like that, he passed away at the age of seven months.

Benny was not your typical cat. He had a “dog-like” personality. His favorite past time was to cuddle up next to my fiancé. During the weekdays when my fiancé would return from work, Benny was often found at the top of the stairs, waiting. If his patience wore off, Benny would rush down stairs meowing to great my fiancé. His cute face would scrunch up, and his eyes would slowly blink as he gazed into my fiancé’s eyes. This was his way of saying “I love you.” Sometimes Benny would express his love further by rubbing his small head against my fiancé’s shin.

This was who Benny was. An orange cat with a large heart. He was a cat who had a lot of love to give. A cat that probably didn’t understand the meaning of sadness as that was an emotion he never felt. My fiancé would sometimes joke that Benny would be Bluetooth purring even as he sat twenty feet away from my fiancé. He was just an orange furball that radiated a lot of positive energy.

Unlike most cats, Benny was quite social. He loved meeting new people and especially loved meeting new cats. It was like he was on a quest to befriend everyone that was in his line of sight. For that reason, Benny frequently went on cat dates with Kylo, my fiancé’s friend’s cat. Kylo in comparison was quite shy. It was funny to see them interact because despite Kylo’s larger physique (Kylo’s breed is Norwegian Forest), he was always in defense mode around Benny, ready to give a bap to the forehead if Benny dared to cross his boundary.

Despite Benny’s short life, he had made a positive impact to those around him. He quickly became one of Instagram’s favorite cat. My fiancé and I would often post pictures and videos of Benny’s goofy behavior, and we would occasionally get DM’s from internet strangers who would tell us that seeing Benny’s content made their day a whole lot better. My mother who was not a fan of cats grew to love Benny over time. Every day over facetime, she would constantly remind me to send over any new Benny photos if I had not done so already. Her bedtime ritual consisted of scrolling through the fresh photos of the beloved orange fluffball before closing her eyes for dreamland. Breaking the news to my mom was hard. When I did, fat tears streamed down on both our faces. She told me she had planned to visit my fiancé and I’s apartment this late November after our wedding to surprise Benny with toys and treats. It broke my heart to know that she never got the chance to spoil him while he was still here.

My fiancé and I are currently long distance so my fiancé was the primary parent of Benny. I suppose one could say that Benny was my long distance cat. There were many activities that I wanted to do with him when I moved in. I wanted to take Benny on walks, throw him his first birthday party, crochet him costumes, etc. This is where it hurt me most. I never fully got to be his cat mom outside of facetime calls.

Benny's passing taught me a valuable lesson about empathy. In our time of grief, we saw clearly who in our lives truly cared enough to share in our sorrow, and who didn’t. The ability of empathy is a core essential part of what makes us human. To lack it, is cold, and almost cruel especially in time of grief in the loss of a loved one.

I believe Benny lives on in our memories and in our hearts. Benny has impacted me and others in a way that makes me believe there may be no cat as kind and positive as he was. I know that one day our path with Benny will cross again. Until then, rest easy sweet boy. I shall see you again soon.

Love,

Emma

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“I don’t need to change my shape to make myself worthy of someone’s love”

— Dolly Alderton in Everything I Know About Love

Dear 15 year old Emma,

I think now you have started high school as a freshman? Maybe sophomore? It’s been ten years, and I am unfortunately too lazy to make the exact calculation. However, one thing I know for sure is that you were quite timid and insecure as a person. You thought you weren’t pretty enough with your acne and acne scars. You thought you weren’t interesting enough to strike up conversations and make new friends at a new high school.

You loved to listen to Kpop, read books at the library, and draw. You probably felt like you were drowning in school work. It felt like there was no end in sight with the academic suffering. Didn’t really help that you were very clueless with what you wanted to do in life and never really understood yourself as a person, right?

As of current, I wanted to share that you are now 25 and will be 26 in a few months. You are about to get married this year to a guy that makes you laugh and cares about you despite your character flaws (he doesn’t really see them though. only you do). Kinda crazy because I remember at your age, I didn’t believe I would be married until I was 30. Maybe even 40. During the 10 years, you’ll discover more about yourself. You still like to draw, and you rediscover your love for books (junior year of high school til the end of college, you had no time to read and eventually despised reading because of all the textbooks you had to go through). You pick up new hobbies such as crochet and pilates. Exercise, we both can agree is ew, but I’m not getting any younger, and pilates isn’t too terrible. Oxytocin after a good workout is addicting so trust me on the pilates.

Back then, you had trouble finding qualities that you liked about yourself and worth being proud of. I wish someone would’ve told me then, so I’ll tell you now. You are the most understanding person and have the kindest soul. You have the patience of a monk, and it honestly takes so much to get anger out of you. You are always genuine to yourself and others, and you always wish the best of people. Gift giving was always a love language. It brought you more joy to give than to receive. You are always full of life in your own quiet way and always had something to look forward to everyday. Most importantly, you have learned to love and appreciate yourself for being you within these 10 years. There are honestly much more qualities to be proud of for yourself. The ones listed are only a few.

If I could, I would give you a hug in person and reassure you that everything will be just fine. There are days when I still get unconfident and insecure, but we are human and that is simply a part of life. Life is worth living because of both the highs and lows. Without the lows, there are no highs.

I am proud of you and will continue to be. I also love you unconditionally. There isn’t anything I would change about you. It is okay to be shy and introverted. It is okay to be you.

book: The Post Office Girl by Stefan Zweig. A recommendation I saw from Malissa (bewareofpity) on TikTok. I’m only 10 pages in and some Zweig’s writing style lowkey tickles my brain in a good way

song:

fragrance(s): Le Labo The Matcha 26. Such a comforting smell. Doesn’t smell much of matcha though lol.

favorite(s): Reading, Making matcha latte’s every morning, Pilates, Protein yogurt bowls

With love,

Emma

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“Perfume is the art that makes memory speak”

— Francis Kurkdjian

There’s something about perfume fragrances that trigger certain memories that you have forgotten about, and you just get that overwhelming nostalgic feeling when you smell it. My earliest memory of having smelled something so good was in my fifth grade reading class. Mrs. G, my teacher at the time, always smelled like a clean floral with a touch of powder. I’ve never smelled anything like it before, and I remember feeling cozy in her classroom. Every corner of her room smelled like her. Either the projection of that perfume was really good, or she had a secret room spray that smelled just like it.

Mrs. G wore a very unique scent because I never smelled anything like what she wore again until I was at the Canadian airport’s tax free shopping area. My younger sister is a casual collector of perfumes, and I at the time didn’t “care” for such luxury, but wanted to help her look around. At one point, my sister sticks one of her wrists at me saying that this fragrance smelled like Mrs. G (she also had her as a reading teacher when she was in fifth grade). Skeptical, I took a whiff. Instantly, I was transported back to the time I was reading Little Women on the fuzzy brown rug in the corner of Mrs. G’s room.

“You’re so right. It does smell like her”

I wish I remembered what the name of the fragrance was, but I remember the brand being Chloé. Not that I would wear the fragrance myself, but in the case that I see Chloé at a mall somewhere, I would try a tester to jog my fond childhood memories of being in her class (Mrs. G was one of my favorite elementary school teacher).

At the Canadian tax free shopping area, my sister didn’t find a fragrance she liked enough to buy. However, I ended up leaving with Jo Malone’s Wood Sage and Sea Salt which actually has it’s own story.

In high school, I had a friend in orchestra who always smelled so nice. I couldn’t quite pinpoint what she smelled like, but it was definitely not the usual fragrance you would smell on a girl. At this point in life, I never liked perfumes made solely for girls as they were floral powder bombs that always made me sneeze. Almost every girl I knew wore this type of scent.

My friend was different. She didn’t smell like.. girl? I so badly wanted to ask her what she was wearing, but high school Emma had crippling social anxiety. One lucky day though, I saw her pull out her perfume from her bag to reapply it. I took a glance at the chic minimalistic glass bottle. It was Jo Malone’s Wood Sage and Sea Salt — a perfectly unisex fragrance that reminds you of a sea breeze on a day of overcast.

This fragrance singlehandedly broadened my scope of knowledge about perfumes. I was glad to know that I didn’t have to smell like a cheap floral bouquet dowsed in baby powder in order to smell nice. Inspired, I went home to rummage through my mom’s abandoned collection of perfumes to find a similar smelling fragrance as sixteen year old Emma definitely could not afford Jo Malone. I eventually dug out a Calvin Klein fragrance. I can’t remember the exact name, but it doesn’t matter as it was made in the 90’s and got discontinued. It smelled like the salty sea with a hint of citrus. Definitely did not smell like Wood Sage and Sea Salt, but it gave off somewhat similar vibes.

Holding my very own bottle of Jo Malone’s Wood Sage and Sea Salt, I was reminded of my bittersweet memories of high school. It also happens to be my very first bottle of perfume that my mom gifted me after college graduation and obtaining my first job. Wood Sage and Sea Salt now also holds that memory.

Since then, I have acquired other perfumes. My fiancé gifted me Maison Margiela’s Lazy Sunday Morning for my 25th birthday — a clean powdery floral musk which holds the memories of going on a picnic to eat sushi and birthday cake on a breezy Saturday afternoon. I bought my first adult perfume with my adult money with Diptyque’s Philosykos — a green woody fresh scent. For my wedding, I’m planning to use Diptyque’s Fleur de Peau — a musky powdery iris which I’m excited to see what kind of memories I will make on that day.

Perfumes to me are little time capsules of your past that you can open and fondly look back on when you take a whiff of its scent.

Fragrances I Have Smelled

Dyptique

🌸 fleur de peau: musky, floral, woody, peppery. kinda smells like a really nice baby powder lol. complex yet clean

🍦 eau duelle edp: reminds me of roasting marshmallows at a campfire. vanilla bourbon with smokiness

💐 do son edp: white floral. like a bouquet of flowers. projects pretty well.

📝 l’eau papier: fresh crisp ballpoint pen ink on paper. hints of rice, mimosa, and woodiness

🪑 tam dao: like grandpa’s furniture. nostalgic and old

🍃 eau nabati: smells like a guy’s bodywash

🍑 philosykos: fig. very fruity and sweet, but light and refreshing

Jo Malone

🌊 wood sage + sea salt: sweet, woody, musky. unisex scent. reminds me of overcast on a beach. my go to. the scent that got me interested in perfume. will enjoy for the rest of my life

🍐 english pear + freesia: the pear note smells so good. can smell the florals as the sharpness of pear subsides. reminds me of a bottle of champagne

🍑 nectarine blossom + honey: sweet and fruity and light. delicious

🍋 lime basil + mandarin: such a summery scent. smells unisex as well. peppery, fruity, and aromatic

🌸 peony + blush suede: florally and powdery without it being offensive. not my style of perfume personally

🌸 wild bluebell: similar to peony + blush suede to me. however, it smells like i’m in a field of grass in spring while peony + blush suede is more floral bouquet.

Commodity

🥛 milk expressive: cedar wood is so strong and seems to overshadow lactonic notes. doesn’t really smell milk to me at all unfortunately. would have to try personal

🍦 gold expressive: fresh, woody, musky vanilla. pretty linear

📄 paper personal: kinda similar to milk, but less offensive. not a personal fan

Mason Margiela Replica

⛅ lazy sunday morning: reminds me of fresh clean linen that you have taken out of your washing machine and then laid it out to air dry on a sunny day

book: Pnin by Vladimir Nabokov. I feel I’m illiterate because Nabokov is flexing his writing a bit too much. However, I am enjoying so far with Pnin’s clumsy and funny character.

song:

fragrance(s): Diptyque Fleur de Peau, Mochiglow White Rabbit. I recently have purchased Fleur de Peau because I liked the sample that was given to me when I initially bought my sister her graduation perfume gift. It’s a nice musky, peppery, and powdery floral and different from my usual woody musk. For my sleep perfume, Mochiglow’s White Rabbit is so comfy and smells like I’m in a bakery. It is definitely a deeper scent than the white rabbit candy itself.

favorite(s): Crocheting book sleeves, Flannel pajamas, Hair clips, Trader Joe’s Rest Well tea, Sunny days

With love,

Emma

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“I like boring things”

— Andy Warhol

When I was 10, I remember coming back to school from summer vacation and having to share with the class what we did over the break. Most of the kids would share exciting stories of visiting Disney Land or going on a cruise. My family was not big on travel. My summers were generally spent at home reading books, arguing with my younger sister over dumb things, or even studying (my Korean parents thought studying during my break would help me excel in school). When it was my turn to share with the class what I had done during my vacation, I would freeze. It was embarrassing to share I had basically done nothing. Everyone else had gone travelling while I watched Disney channel on the green sofa. All the kids would definitely believe I was some boring loser for staying home.

Growing up, I definitely felt FOMO (Fear of Missing Out). All my peers seemed to have exciting lives. I would open social media to scroll through people’s stories, and they would post about going to parties, concerts, and fancy restaurants. It didn’t help that I suffered from severe social anxiety as well. I couldn’t relate to anyone around me as high school Emma was out of touch with pop culture. I’m sure peers who didn’t know me well thought I had no personality. And honestly at the time, I believed that was the case. It bothered me that I didn’t appear to have an exciting life and had no outgoing personality.

The idea of being comfortable with my boringness didn’t happen until after college. Something clicked within me after landing my first job and being away from my school peers. I think perpetually being alone at home with a remote job ultimately forced me to ask myself, “So what if I have never gotten drunk at a club and my only travel moment outside the country was going to Canada?”

Since I’ve gotten older, I have just accepted that I’m boring in comparison to my peers. They may love going to raves and loud concerts, but I enjoy listening to jazz melodies while crocheting on my brown leather recliner. They may be getting buzzed at clubs, but I love to relax by taking small sips of my hand dripped coffee and reading a good book.

Being interesting is subjective. Being boring is also subjective. My measure of how interesting I was, was in comparison to other people’s lives - people with vastly different life goals, hobbies, and interests. It really had to do with my mindset. Learning to be present and understanding my own hobbies and interests made me realize I am only boring only if I believed that I was boring. In other words, you tend to manifest into whatever your thoughts are about yourself. To be not boring, you have to find passion in your interests and really own it.

At the ripe age of twenty five, I am now finding comfort in my “boring” ordinary life through being fully present. To me, nothing excites me more than brewing myself a warm cup of coffee and working on my crochet projects. I’ve learned to be grateful of the small details in life, and when I’m asked what I did over the weekend, I’m not hesitant to share that I stayed home in my grey pajamas eating ramen for dinner and reading Kafka on the Shore while having vanilla ice cream drizzled in olive oil for dessert. To the 10 year old Emma, your vacation days of spending at home reading Junie B. Jones or going biking with your sister and father was not at all boring.

With love,

Emma

book: Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami. I’m 50 pages away from finishing :) I have mixed feelings reading this (Sometimes I question certain things Murakami writes about. Also, the plot isn’t too straightforward), but overall it was a pretty solid read. Nakata is my favorite character.

song:

fragrance(s): Diptyque Eau Duelle EDP, Lush Vanillary. I’ve been using these two as sleep perfumes. I only have the Eau Duelle as a sample so its being used sparingly, but this is the most scrumptious vanilla scent. It’s a smokey vanilla, and it reminds me of roasting marshmallows over a camp fire. Vanillary is an okay vanilla scent. It’s a bit too floral for me from the jasmine note. The warmth of the vanilla really shines once it’s dried down.

favorite(s): Skin 1004’s Centella Ampoule, Trader Joe’s Tinned Smoked Mussels, Walking around my neighborhood smelling the pine trees, Pilates, Jazz Instrumentals

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