I'm back, and I'm fucking terrified.

January 2, 2020

I’ve been meaning to start up my blog again, but, for one reason or another, I always put it off. I started writing in a journal, and stopped that (though my daily reminder hasn’t taken the hint). But writing in a blog was something different—even if no one was reading. The fact that my thoughts were out in the open was exhilarating (yes, I mean that) and scary. In the off chance that someone were to stumble upon this clumsy string of characters, they’d catch a glimpse of me trying to figure out who I am.

At this point in history, very little, if anything, I write out here is new or unique. That’s not the point. The point is to be honest. One of my favorite Dave Eggers quotes sums it up nicely—

All must be given away, given away every day, because to be human means:

1. To be good
2. To save nothing

I hope this doesn’t end up in a Holden Caulfield situation—that would be embarrassing (also incredibly unoriginal).

I’m not brazen enough to spill all of my secrets, but I won't pretend everything is amazing all the time.

I won’t apologize for my writing. I used to—in case people felt like they wasted time. This is gratuitous, and that’s completely okay with me.

When did we become so obsessed with appearing perfect? Who’s to blame for our need to look so goddamn put-together all of the time?1 As if we have it all figured out, and people who see what we’re up to need to comment or reply with the word, “Goals!” Is this my generation’s fault? Are we the ones who made this mess?

Maybe the older generations are responsible. Did their constant push for us to “look presentable” and their “always be number one” attitude instill in us some bogus competitive nature as children?

Maybe it’s human nature to want to be better than everyone else... Survival and all that, right?

All I know is that I’m clumsy. I get nervous and anxious, and I’m not by any means perfect. I’m awkward and quite ashamed of my limited ability to speak my mother-tongue. This isn’t some self-deprecating attempt to gain sympathy or consolation—it’s just the goddamn truth.

While everyone else seems to have life figured out, I’m still here looking around trying to understand exactly who I am. That’s what this blog is going to be (for now). Some half-witted quest of self-discovery. No dark lord to defeat, no trek to Alaska, no falling jet engine. Just some potentially disjointed words and maybe a Potter2 reference or two. This is me.

I'm back, and I’m fucking terrified.

1

I do see the irony of having a portfolio that attempts to hide all the blemishes of its projects.

2

Though I'm a massive Harry Potter fan, I am incredibly disgusted by Rowling's transphobia and abhorrent remarks.

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