Even though it's the weekend, I've been getting terrible sleep. Since Friday night, I've been falling asleep at a ridiculous late-night hour that feels more like my ideal time to wake up early and start my day on the right foot. I've also been having the weirdest dreams the past few days and opening my eyes to this heaviness and exhaustion.

After waking up today, I lied in bed for a bit not sure of what to do with my thoughts or my day. I used cleaning my room as a reason to get motivated and on my feet, and as I was Swiffering my floor with Natalie Merchant's Tigerlily album playing in the background, my phone rang—it was my good friend Annie calling. 

Annie and I have been close since high school and she's been living in Seattle for a while now. Honestly, at our age, with most people having life partners, kids, and generally, different interests, it's natural that all friendships evolve or fizzle out. And that's totally okay, because as we get busier with more responsibilities, that's just how life works. I could say that outside of my core group of friends, it's inevitable that I've become mutually untethered from most other people I used to know, and now keeping in contact through Instagram likes is more than sufficient. If there's nothing left connecting us or no longer any genuine effort put forth into friendship, people grow apart and move on and there's nothing wrong with that. But that's why I'm so thankful to the forever friends who do check in on me to make sure I'm doing alright. Annie has always been one of those friends, and is one of my dearest pals who genuinely knows me so well (and vice versa). Getting her call today couldn't have come at a better moment. We gabbed for about an hour-and-a-half and she helped me with a lot of the mental blockers and stuff I've been recently trying to process. By the time we hung up, I was feeling much better about everything.

Afterwards, I got some air from a walk and have been vegging at home doing absolutely nothing since.

Now, Sunday is nearing its end and it's time to mentally prepare for my upcoming workweek.

Taken All On the Same Day of September 28, 1994

1. Usual shelf 

2. After showering 

3. Done up with a fake earring put on by my oldest sis

"But how was I to,

know which way the story'd go?"

From the song Take a Bow by Madonna.

As a kid, I was obsessed with this music video when it first came out.

One of my oldest pop culture memories is watching Janet Jackson's Black Cat music video.

It must've been around 2nd grade, but damn, I still remember watching that music video in complete awe and staring up at the television screen. That mic in her hand and white button-down shirt is forever burned into my brain.

I enjoy doing the dishes. 

It's a ritual that includes the use of my hands in a way that feels so different from the rest of my day. I originally mastered my dishwashing technique when I was in the 7th grade and helping out at my family restaurant in Alaska. 

First, I wash the edge of each dish by running the scrub along the entirety of its parameter before then wiping down its middle.

After nearly 15 years of updating this virtual diary of mine, I've come to realize that blogs aren't meant to be read—they're meant to be written in... or at least that's what I tell myself.

Back in March of 2006, I was still a college student living at home with my parents in Flushing, Queens. I was closeted, depressed, and about to hit the heaviest weight I've been in my life so far. I initially started this blog because I felt extremely isolated with no one to talk to. For many reasons, I had a hard time maintaining any social media accounts back then because something about it just didn't feel like a suitable fit for me. So, this became my exclusive outlet where I could feel like I was contributing to and participating in our world's rapidly growing virtual realm. In the beginning, I kept this blog anonymous in order to be as honest as I could with what I wanted to share. But then I did eventually start telling my friends about it and slowly started to write more personal things, to then start posting photos as well. 

Over time, this blog would remain my only online presence until I started an Instagram account in 2013. But even for Instagram, I've used it mostly as a place to stay in touch with people, and it's not my preferred way of genuinely showing who I truly am. Anything important I've ever had to say in the past decade and a half, this blog is where I shared it. All the struggles and good times I've gone through, this is where I documented it. Throughout the years, I often sought escape from everyday life by immersing myself here on this blog. Even today, from the moment I wake up to when I fall asleep, all I do is think about how and with what content I can post here. I mean, that doesn't mean I've updated as much as I wanted to, but still—it's remained my only constant during so many seasons of instability, uncertainty, and at times, downright fucking terror from not knowing how to process or tackle things. 

To count, this post will be my 3,923rd since I first began. With that sheer volume in mind, it's no surprise that I view this blog as the only place outside of my actual self that even comes close to portraying an accurate reflection of my character and who I am as a person. This blog is my heart, my soul, and the best way for anyone to get to know me. It's my proudest personal accomplishment to date. Reading back on all my entries, I can really see how my writing has evolved and matured over the years. From refusing to capitalize stuff in the beginning, to more recent posts where it feels easier to communicate via rhymes, I appreciate every phase, struggle, and lesson that helped shaped me into the writer I am today. I mean, the countless hours I spent writing and editing in it alone definitely taught me things I could've never learned anywhere else, or from anybody else for that matter. 

After starting this blog, I basically just kept at it because I loved doing it, and still do. Although no one reads this blog, I was always okay with that because I was doing it more for me and my own personal reasons. It's become my only means of expression that's absolutely necessary for my sanity and survival. I never really ever thought about stopping blogging until an unexpected thought hit me a few months ago: This March 3rd will mark its 15th anniversary, and suddenly, that feels like the right time to end it. Fifteen years is a long time to dedicate to one project, and I feel like it's time to move on and put my energy into something else that could possibly see me through for the next 15 years.

This might sound cheesy, but on my way to becoming a writer (or whatever I thought that meant), I actually sort of became one. To me, I always used to think that being a writer meant being a novelist. That's because the career of Haruki Murakami was the only thing I aspired to. But over the years, I've come to expand this definition and my professional goals. And while it took some time for me to sincerely accept it, I too have become a writer. Even to this day, I find it unbelievable that I've accomplished this. All of my close friends know that my dreams of becoming a writer first surfaced in the 5th grade after I read The Diary of Anne Frank. Anne's writing spoke to me and moved me to the core. For the first time ever, I just felt like the I completely understood someone, and this was simply from reading her diary entries. I couldn't get over how awesome it was that written words could do such a thing. Even at that young age, I felt different from everybody else but I didn't understand how or why. And after I read Anne's diary, the life-changing realization that transformed me was: "Holy shit, Anne felt alone and wrote in a diary to make herself feel better. Maybe I could write in a diary to make myself feel better!" And ever since, I've always maintained a diary or journal of some sorts. By high school, I knew the only thing I wanted to do was become a writer. But by the time I started this blog, I had no idea how to even start that journey. 

Back then, I didn't know of any straightforward paths for writers who looked like me. I wasn't aware of any gay Korean-American guys from Queens who had similar dreams like mine, and becoming a writer just seemed like some farfetched idea. However, by some stroke of luck and with the help of this blog, I stuck to my gut and aspirations. And now, after years of working so many random jobs that were unrelated to writing, I have a job where I get to work with words and write/edit all day. I feel like especially now, with so much anti-Asian racism that's become somewhat normalized since the onset of the pandemic, it's more important than ever that Asians continue to show up and do our thing. And I definitely don't plan to stop that anytime soon.

If there's one major lesson blogging for 15 years has taught me, it's that all the good things in life worth striving for are truly a long game. So for anyone out there who is working towards a goal, stick with it and enjoy the ride because that's when all the interesting stuff happens.

On this day that is my 38th birthday and the start of Lunar New Year, I wish everyone a safe and healthy new year, Valentine's Day, and long Presidents Day weekend. And please continue to check out my blog as it will still be updated until March 3rd.

This blog is my first draft. It's my mix tape. I'm just getting started, and I hope to see you along the way.

"I hope I will be able to confide everything to you, as I have never been able to confide in anyone, and I hope you will be a great source of comfort and support."

From the June 12, 1942 entry (her first ever) in Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl.

The end of 2020 is less than an hour away...

So much stuff went down this year, but—I need to not end the past nine months of messed up (and totally awakening) stuff in the same way it's been going. Rather than thinking about that or what didn't happen, I also find myself going back to the most memorable time of what I'm missing the most right now: being out and dancing all night. 

For going out and partying, I had an exciting era where my life felt solely dedicated this. It started exactly 20 years ago from this upcoming February when I was a senior in high school and had just turned 18. My cousin's friend who I had become friends with said his older sister was going to this club called Exit in the city (I think it might've been her birthday). He was going to go for the first time and asked me to come along because he didn't want to go alone. I remember feeling lucky because my birthday had just passed, so I didn't need a fake ID to get in like my friend. He lived in Flushing near Northern Boulevard and Parsons, and I recall going to his apartment first so we could all head into the city together. That first night at Exit changed my life. I ended up going there weekly for years. There was specifically this one corner near the dance floor where all the Asian kids hung out. After going there every Friday, so many of us became friends and would party together. Light shows, bunny hopping, dance offs, candy bracelets, blowing Vicks VapoRub onto each other's faces, DJ Tony Draper, like wow haha. To just be that age and doing that back in 2001, it was so damn fun.

Now, as I'm thinking about all that happened in 2020, all I can do is blast old party music in my room and dance. It makes me miss being on that dance floor again while having the time of my life. I felt completely free back then and life seemed like everything was going to be okay. The old space of Exit is Terminal 5 now. I haven't stepped foot in it since it used to be Exit.

Here are some old pictures of that infamous corner from back in the day.

"Rhythm ready."

From the song Rhythm Ready by DJ Tony Draper.

This song seriously gives me heart palpitations. It reminds of partying when I was 18 and dancing in UFOs so hard.

It's amazing how helpful memes can be. I've had plenty of nights this year when I'm lying in bed super late and just laughing my ass off from them. And I mean like the genuinely cracking up, laugh-so-hard-you-can't-breath laughing. The deep type where clutching your stomach to hold on for dear life is the only thing you can do. It's like you're completely free for a moment and filled with this intense joy. Holy shit, what a good time. The feeling has been on mind a lot the past few months. With it, my mind keeps going back to this early memory from high school. It must've been during my sophomore year, but I'm standing with a group of friends in front of the Flushing Main Street Public Library (which was pretty new at the time). I think we had all just eaten together somewhere nearby in Main Street and probably hung out at some cafe for a bit, and we were there to wait for the Q17 so one of my friends could take it. I only remember my friend Natalia being there, because out of all of us, she was laughing the hardest. I don't remember what we were talking about or why, but I was trying to be funny and had everyone doubled over, and that in turn made me laugh harder. We had all started laughing back while eating, and by the time we were at the bus stop, we were laughing so hard that we could barely stand. The sound of Natalia laughing especially made me happy, and this epiphany that someone could think I was funny while being myself, well, I still remember that. Knowing I was gay at that age and desperately not trying to stick out had me normally holding back a lot of who I was. And it was only while immersed in this circle (all-girls, and I am still friends with) did I feel allowed to be silly, therefore feel seen. Don't get me wrong, I grew up with two older sisters and usually had them laughing a lot about dumb shit too. But this was different, because I was still getting to know these friends, and usually stayed quiet as a form of avoiding rejection. It's funny how laughter can bring back the weirdest memories.

Dear friends,

I wrote about how The Karaoke Bars of NYC’s Koreatown Helped Me Find My Voice.

Check it out!

I've been going out and partying since I was in high school.

At 16, it was while ordering bottles of Johnnie Walker at a Ktown club called News. As all the straight guys I was with tried to mack it to the older girls around us, I was doing shots and dancing. At 18, I was at Exit every Friday. And it's no wonder that after just working and stressing in my room for so long throughout COVID-19, it's nice to chill out and remember dancing as an escape.

Greetings, from my little corner here on the Internet.

It's Friday night. The windows of my room overlook Amsterdam Avenue, a pretty major street, and there's plenty of stuff going on outside. Every time a car passes by blasting Fatman Scoop's Be Faithful, I feel happy. It takes me back to my young adult days of growing up in Queens and driving into the city on the weekends with friends to go party. But also, hearing the song just makes me stoked that people are still out there finding some joy, in despite of everything. I like to imagine that these cars have some fun destination (masked and socially-distanced, of course) they're heading to—or fuck it, even if they just want to blare music from their car while going for a drive, I'm all for that, too.

I was watching the final presidential debate last night, and when 45 called NYC a "ghost town," I couldn't help but roll my eyes. This is so far from the truth. There are still millions of people here going about their days and handling their shit. I mean it does feel quieter and emptier than normal at times, but walk one block over or wander the streets again the following day and it's a completely different picture. 

It's been a while since I left town. Honestly, the last time I was even on an airplane was early in 2019. I've been home everyday since the lockdown started, and while I'm itching to get some air and go away for even a weekend, I sadly wouldn't have anywhere to go. I also haven't gotten a haircut since March. I just don't have the mental capacity or bandwidth to even think about trying to get one right now. I've grown my hair out here and there as an adult, but this is by far the longest stretch. Living with longer hair is really different than shorter hair. I mean, the amount of my hair that I can now see shed is, in itself, a sobering reality and terrifying to witness. It's probably from me being in my late 30's, but I've come to see how precious hair is. And for every strand I see fall out and laying on my floor or laptop keyboard, my heart pangs. Damn, I remember being a teenager and always having barbers insist they thin out my hair a bit to make it look less heavy. Now it's good ole time that naturally does it for me. One thing I do like about having longer hair though is being able to push it back behind my ear. It's a novel feeling that feels so natural for some reason.

I started a new job in April. 

In a turn of events for my professional career that I couldn't have ever imagined in my wildest dreams, I am now the Editor of Thrillist New York. That means it's my job to be in the know about what to eat, drink, and do in New York, and as a hometown Queens kid from Flushing, I can't tell you how proud I am to be in this new role.

With that being said, the world is a very different place now, and thinking about what to eat, drink, and do in New York has changed completely since the onset of COVID-19 in March. I mean, even as I write this on August 8, I feel like life feels so drastically different from just a month ago. How I might've thought about certain things or what I felt like I knew from then is not the same as today, and I'm totally okay with that. This year just feels like it's been filled with awakenings of every kind, some that are heartbreaking to the core, and others that were very much needed.

First of all, the COVID-19 pandemic continues to take its toll everywhere. People are sick, people are dying, people have lost their jobs and livelihoods, and at this moment, there's no sense in when things will get better in the U.S. And then there's the second virus that's on the forefront of daily life in America: racism. The systemic injustices and racism that Black people face in this country is so wrong. Until the death of George Floyd, I never truly internalized the challenges that the Black community faces. And because of my ignorance, I didn't know just how dire things were. Even from growing up in NYC or having been immersed in Black music, television, and culture as a major part of my entire life, I still hadn't realized it. Being a kid in the 90's, I can recall the majority of every comedy stand-up special I watched by a Black comic having a part dedicated to discussing racism and mistreatment from cops, but I never registered just how fucked up it really was. But now I'm trying to do my part however I can, which includes educating myself, having conversations with friends and family, and knowing that not being racist is no longer sufficient in America, but being an anti-racist is what's truly needed in order for tangible change to happen. 

At work, I've joined together with three other colleagues for the Thrillist Diversity Committee. As a group, we are committed to bringing more diversity to our workplace. It's funny because I started my job remotely, which means I have never met any of my coworkers in real life. I'm grateful to simply be employed right now, but working from home in a new job hasn't been easy for many reasons, and I still find myself struggling with things at times. It definitely hasn't been a smooth road, but I'm enjoying myself and the growth I've been able to experience so far. I feel like the timing of when I started this job and all that's happened since can be seen as a blessing in some ways and a reminder to always stay on your feet. Fighting it or wanting it to be different is pointless, so I'm trying to approach things with a fun and flexible mindset whenever possible and am up for the challenge.

It's taken me a bit to sit down with my thoughts about all that's happened since April, but I look forward to sharing more stuff here on my blog. In the meanwhile, check out Thrillist New York when you can and some of the stories I've personally written like How to Support the Black Community in NYC, Thanks for the Memories Momofuku Ssäm Bar, and 7 Restaurant Openings in NYC You Need to Know. 

Wear a damn mask when you go out, socially distance responsibly, and most importantly, Black Lives Matter!

You know that scene in Beaches when CC Bloom bangs on her radiators with a frying pan so her super turns up the heat?

I think I've thought about her doing that literally every time I lay eyes on a radiator here in NYC. And this has been since I first watched it as a kid.

I went out to eat with my friends Judy and Junho on Sunday. Junho had just returned from a long and leisurely trip, and Judy was still coming off a really busy work season. That was reason enough for us to meet up in the day and have some good ass diner food.

The three of us just blah blahed about this and talked about that. And then I thought this one thing that came up was pretty funny. It was that both of them hadn’t realized that I still write in this blog. I mean, first of all, rude! But second of all, I see where they were coming from.

So the weather is still pretty warm, and I’ve been wearing shorts almost everyday. I’m grateful wearing them is not a big deal at my job. I always pair them with a long sleeve button-down shirt closed to the top so I appear somewhat presentable. But I’ll wear shorts for as long as I can right now. Anything to lighten my laundry haul since I no longer live somewhere that has a washer-dryer. Yup, after years away, I’m back in the laundromat game. For the past two years, I lived in an apartment that had one within the unit. And then for years before that, I lived in places that had them somewhere within the building.

I have so many memories of going to laundromats growing up. I remember in high school waking up at 5am to go to wash my clothes before school started. Oddly, I also used to go to laundromats a lot on my birthday, which is something I remembered after reading back on this blog. Also the laundromat near my old Flushing house was the first place I ever interviewed someone to write a story, which is also another thing I remembered only after reading back on this blog. But going back to a laundromat again right now has been just like riding a bicycle. I am in and out as quickly as possible, and there’s not much else to it.

Happy Pride!

It's June, and that means there are a ton of LGBTQ events going on this month in celebration. I attended Queens Pride last Sunday in Jackson Heights, and that was lots of fun. I've been going to it on and off for a while now and love its crowd and vibe. Being there just feels like home in so many ways. For this past week's, I watched some of the performances and walked around a bit, and eventually ended up grabbing some food alone at the nearby UFC chicken. Luckily, I was already sitting there with my food and a beer by the time that sudden downpour came towards the early evening. It had been a while since I'd been to that UFC, too, so being there at that moment with dry socks and fried stuff as I parched my thirst with a cold one felt pretty damn good. The restaurant isn't that big, and a family of four ended up sitting next to me after I'd had already gotten my food. It was a mom, dad, young son, and grandma. From the moment that the father and son first came in ahead to get a table, they brought this burst of energy that moved me. I basically began to eavesdrop immediately and didn't stop until I left. The dad seemed really outgoing and had this loud voice that was especially nice to hear because he was so sweet to his son. I'm guessing the kid was around 9 years old, and the dad was totally making jokes with him and the workers. I appreciated that. When the mom and grandma came in afterwards, the four of them together just made total sense to me. They just seemed like a real family, and their love for each other was so apparent. And what had me was the fact that each one of them was engaging in multiple conversations with one another. Stories about other family members that related to something learned were discussed as a group, and then there would be these separate criss-crossing back and forths among the four of them. Their dynamic just pulled me in. They talked about a lot of different things, and the mom even complimented the waiter on his haircut, which he reacted to with gratitude and surprise. The grandma also talked about how she'd made her kids clean the house with her and their father when they were younger. This was so they could use the $100 they saved by doing it themselves to eat together as a family at a restaurant afterwards. There was even a moment when I got to interact with them, which totally made my day. I knew they were super hungry because the topic of their excitement for the food came up after their order was taking a while. When they saw the server bring another dish of mine I had ordered, they ravenously asked about what it was and mentioned how good it looked. When their food eventually did come, it was a few dozen wings in this sauce, a few dozen wings in another sauce, and more fried chicken upon plates and plates of food. It's like, this family really knows how to enjoy themselves and go out to eat, and I loved seeing every minute of it. After I finished my beers and fried chicken, I wished them a great evening as I got up from my table to leave. It was sunny again by the time I stepped out onto the street to head back home on the subway. I don't think I could've asked for a better start to Pride month.

"엄마, 아빠, 사랑해!"

Said by Sandra Oh in her Golden Globes acceptance speech for the 2019 best Actress in a Drama TV Series award.

Hearing this expressed by a winner at a major American award show is something I've fantasized about my entire life... wow, what a moment.

Congratulations to Sandra Oh on your win. Keep doing your thing and making us proud.

Happy Sunday, everyone. It's a hot September day here in New York (shout out to global warming!). Even though it's my one day of the week to sleep in, I got up early today and decided to try and be productive. I purged some old crap in my closet, Swiffered my tiny little room, and gulped a tall glass of cold water with a splash of apple cider vinegar in it before heading out. In general, I think I've been spending too much of my free time eating, vegetating, and scrolling at home. Don't get me wrong, I love doing it and hiding away from the world. But these words aren't going to write themselves. And the subways are always messed up on the weekends, so that makes me want to hibernate even more. But alas, I'm happy to be out and about today. Speaking of the subway, why does it feel like the MTA doesn't give a shit about New Yorkers? Everyday, there is so much such annoying bullshit to deal with. The trains are always late, packed, stalled, or just seem dysfunctional in general. And this happens on a daily basis. The subway station closest to my apartment closed for renovations this July and is set to re-open in November. That means I have to use the next closest train station on that subway line, which isn't too far from me so it's fine. But then that station has been closed on the weekends for the past few weeks, so it's just like, ugh, what the fuck. I basically live off podcasts from Oprah and RuPaul to help me get through my commutes. I came to my old college campus right now to just sit with my computer for a bit. I haven't been doing this as often as I should because the workweek leaves me mentally depleted with little bandwidth for anything else. But I can't think about it like that. I have to think of this as a mental regeneration instead. Forcing those reminders upon myself is the only way to get back in the habit of trying to get shit done. And I have to admit that forgetting about any big life lessons or epiphanies I share here on this blog happens often. I rewatched The Devil Wears Prada the other night, and when Emily Blunt's character repeats to herself, "I love my job, I love my job, I love my job," I laughed so hard. It's like yes, girl, that's the spirit. Fake it 'til you make it. Tell yourself whatever you need to make sure you're pushing along. Because I've learned that no one or particular thing is ever going to motivate me like the way I can for myself. It's up to me, and no one else. I've got to do it for myself, and because I want to. So back to the topic of being productive on the weekends. It helps that I have a reason to leave my house every Saturday morning, and that always gets me moving. For the past two years, I've been tutoring a young student in writing every Saturday. She lives in Flushing, so it takes me a good hour-and-a-half to get to her house from Harlem. The length of the commute there is totally fine because I can catch up on my reading, but it's more just the unexpected track work and delays of the MTA and subways on Saturday mornings that really irritate me. But I actually truly enjoy spending the two hours of tutoring time with her every week, and look forward to it. On top of also being Korean-American from the same hometown, she attends the same junior high school as I did in Flushing. But it's not just from having similar roots that helps our bond, it's our personalities, too. She works really hard and has this openness to learning, and I'm grateful to be able to present any sort of guidance and help in whatever she needs. It's truly humbling, and always leaves me with a surge of positivity and hope in everything. She's just a good kid who gives a shit, and I like her energy. It's completely refreshing in a world where most of my interactions are with adults who sometimes don't seem like a good person, or like they give a shit. I feel like she and I have gotten to know each other well in the past two years, so we're able to laugh and enjoy ourselves during our sessions. I purposely never used to share too much personal info with her, but I decided to casually come out to her in a subtle way earlier this year, and wondered how she'd react. But when I did, she barely thought anything of it. And I realized it was more me who had the issues and reservations about it. Even a few months ago, I forgot why the topic came up, but as we were talking, when it came to saying the word gay, I whispered it instead of saying it out loud like the rest of my sentence. It was just instinct and something I was used to doing in order to protect myself and not cause any attention. I was afraid if her mom heard it, she might get upset. But then my student laughed and reassured me, "You know, you don't have to whisper that word! It's totally fine." I chuckled along with her like I totally knew, but in reality I was more getting over the feeling of registering the internalized fear I had when it came to the word. It's moments like that that clearly show me the progress that's been made from my generation to hers. Tutoring her is also great because I like having a reason to go to Flushing for a bit every week. It's comfortable and just feels so familiar like home. I'm normally done teaching her by the mid-afternoon, and will wander around Main Street alone to grab some food afterwards. I'll usually just pop-in somewhere easy like New World Mall or other places for dumplings or something I can eat on my feet. Or other times I'll sit down to have kimbap or soondae or donkatsu at this small spot on Union Street that's been there forever. It’s where I go to satiate any cravings for casual Korean food I had in the past week. I've come to like this Saturday routine, which allows me the rest of the weekend to go get drunk or even go back home to do nothing.

The taste of kimchi dunked in the soup of ramen is the flavor of my childhood.