I am sitting on the floor of my living room at 2:00 AM surrounded by crumpled red paper and the lingering smell of burnt sesame oil. My daughter is asleep in the other room, wearing the silk hanbok I spent three weeks' salary on, and I feel like a total failure. I spent four years in the service being told exactly how to move, how to dress, and how to execute a mission to the letter. I was good at it. I was disciplined.