Today I went to work (yes, I know it's Sunday) and spent three hours parsing out what exactly the three lines on Buddha's neck in Buddhist statuary symbolize, and how to define a landscape painting technique that uses different brushstrokes to delineate mass, dimension, and light and shadow. Sometimes this editing stuff can be fun.

But it won't be no fun if it drags into the start of the school year. Seriously -- this art reference book project I'm part of (insofar as an ex-parttime editor can be part of a project) is not getting finished, and I'm a bit worried that I won't have the time to properly edit stuff that the woman in charge at my old office is going to send me through email.

Well, we'll worry about that when the time comes.

I had to cancel lunch with one of my old colleagues because my meeting took longer than expected, but thanks to the efforts of another colleague, I managed to meet her and three other work friends tonight for squid stirfry and a wine bar. Such smart, driven women, all, and some of them wasting away at our office because of lack of opportunity for women past a certain age. (Well, I suppose opportunity doesn't knock here for men past a certain age too. But it's undeniably harder for women.)

The one I'm thinking of in particular comes from a poor background, and is intensely interested in politics and development. She applied for a government position called "JPO," under which you are placed with an international organization like the UN, but was selected as an alternate only, which is a great achievement in itself (the test is notoriously hard), but don't mean a thing if it was your last chance to apply (next year she passes out of the eligible age range). It's a testament to the caliber of people at our office that another woman in the group tonight, who quit several months ago, also was selected as an alternate, while yet another woman did get selected, and is going to work in New York to work for the UN this fall.

Among the chatter about boyfriends and reminiscing about how I looked when I first came to work at the office, someone did bring up the fact that me quitting my job and coming to Korea for two years was something she could never imagine doing. It's just not done here. And I was reminded again of how fortunate I am, and how many opportunities I have had and continue to have. My friend who got selected as an alternate JPO is so much more knowledgeable, driven and hard-working than I am. She would, I know, love to be in my position, and I think it must be hard to see me leave the office and Korea when she cannot. This luck of the draw thing is hard to accept. But even so, I know she was genuinely sad that I am going, because she is my friend and I am hers.

I noticed this when I left DC -- the person leaving is usually so preoccupied with preparations that they can't usually fully appreciate the sadness of moving on. But to the people staying on, it's hard to see someone go. I know it'll hit me later, having to say goodbye to friends who have become dear -- as KB said months ago, you don't know how important your friends are to you until you leave.

I hope -- as I promised with my four friends tonight, and my language teacher this afternoon, and my friends yesterday and my family last night -- that we will meet again, and that until we meet again, they will be healthy and happy. One of the things I hold most dear from my trip to Japan was the hour I spent at the Meiji Shrine in Tokyo the last day, reading the wishes that people had written on wooden placards that would eventually be burned in prayer. From the hands of people from dozens of countries across the world, the same themes kept arising: health and happiness for my friends and my family and for me. (Oh yes, and world peace too.)

Hope, that last occupant of Pandora's box, can be a bitch, but sometimes she helps blind you a little against the realities of life. It is very likely that I won't see some of these people in this lifetime again. But I hope I will.