yesterday, a question was asked of me. "what made you decide to restart your blog?"

it might seem to be a very peculiar thing to do, indeed—rebooting a blog in the midst of a global pandemic. for those who know me well enough would be inclined to believe that such an urge could only be motivated by some life-altering occurrence/s (as i have an innate inclination to turn to writing as free therapy)—they would not be inaccurate in their conjecture. notwithstanding, i have to confess that most of these "big pushes" i have tendencies to experience are often credited to random bursts of impulses and inspiration. more so, epiphanies that tend to dawn on me in the small pockets of time where i am skimming through the internet in the same manner one might channel-surf (if television references still make sense to anyone anymore).

"representation is important, mom," i hear my voice echoing back now. our conversation last night had been spontaneous. i had mostly scaled the two flights of stairs and knocked on her door to vent my frustrations on (wretched) job-hunting, not at all intending for it to have extended into a soliloquy on my ongoing existential crisis. and yet, here we are. fingers flying all over the keys of this keyboard in some conscious attempt to keep up with my brain that runs at lightning speed per nanosecond. representation is important. but where is mine?

all over the internet and the glorious overgrown fungus that is known to mankind as instagram, i see mom blogs. wedding blogs. parent blogs. food blogs. finance blogs. now, go ahead and replace the word 'blogs' with this one: influencers. (gag. sorry—i really am working on that reflex.) but where is the blog and/or the influencer who is 30, flirty and thriving? kidding! there will be absolutely zero flirting and thriving in a global pandemic, no, ma'am! rephrase: where are all the blogs that are meant to represent me? a 30-something who, to this day, continues to be the permanent resident of the guest room in her familial home in spite of all her best efforts to grow up and be as financially independent as possible. the 30-something who just cannot seem to find a relationship that will outlast a netflix original series; that will not end in, spoiler alert, ghosting(!) where is the guide to life i so desperately seem to be reaching for? How To Actually Believe Life Can (And Will) Turn Around Before I Completely Cave To Helplessness And Hit End Game. "you are a great emotional writer," i was once told. but just exactly what will i do with all of these emotions? i am fast running out of mason jars, y'all.

i am not certain anybody would care so much for "this loser blog" (quote courtesy of one loser ex-lover) and i am also not certain anybody else besides me would send confessional-type questions into google's search box hoping for any semblance of an answer or assistance and not another self-help e-book i.e. why do i keep attracting insufferable menchildren and severe commitment phobes at 30 when i was really quite certain i had bid them all adieu with my loss of youth in my 20s? but i hope that if you have and if, for all intents and purposes, google has decided (based on your search terms) to match us both—that you would have arrived at this page, read it some and possibly laughed a little. ...okay, cracked a smile. (i will fight my natural asian instincts and will not overreach.) i have to also regretfully inform you at this point in the post that there will be no free e-book, webinar, tickets to a Ted Talk or recipes for a total personality overhaul—there is just me. writing panty-clad in one supposedly ergonomic ikea-bought chair; president of Lonely Island, living rent-free with my family and all i have to say about this blog is that it will not reflect anything other than raw, ugly, messy honesty.

yes, i got covid then got over it. yes, i started this year with a job then lost it. and yes, i thought i might actually, finally have this whole Happy Ever After with my Forever Person thing sorted but, surprise, surprise. no dice. so if you are anything at all like me, well. i shall not be so arrogant to declare myself your representative but i hope that you will at least know these next five items:

  1. that there is absolutely nothing wrong with you and you are perfect exactly as you are.
  2. that not everybody (and everything) you see on the internet and instagram is as glossy and gleaming as they are made out to be.
  3. that you have not been left behind. you are not invisible.
  4. that no one person has anything all figured out, ever. (i promise.)

and number five i know i will be saying for myself as much as for you, dear unseen reader: know that you are so, so loved. and that there are probably so many more of us out there in this great wide world—we are all just not writing blogs and/or posting instastories lest we get turned into some sad/whiny/lonely girl meme or worse, a tiktok. (cringe shudder combo.) we are not alone.