Check out my first ever podcast segment linked here. 

I'm proud that its focus was on a topic that's near and dear to me.

Every morning for the past 38 years, when looking at my reflection in the mirror, it's not just my own face that I see—but also those of my parents, my childhood neighborhood of Flushing, and every Asian-American person who has paved the way in this country before my time.

Yet, even though I am the main character to my own life, so much of American film, tv, and media has perpetually shown anyone with facial features like mine as the outsider, someone whose existence depends entirely on another non-Asian character, or perhaps someone whose story does not deserve to be told at all.

Until recently, for me, this is how much of the Asian American experience has felt like. To wake up everyday and know that I am here as a full person with layers and dimension, yet to never feel fully seen.

Well, with the ongoing anti-Asian hate since the onset of the pandemic, more than ever, I think the world is ready for more Asian-American stories of all kinds.

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.

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 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!

The past few weeks while breaking in an iPhone 11.

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.

The past few weeks or so.

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.

Happy eating! I hope everyone is having a great Thanksgiving weekend so far.

I'm currently home alone right now in Harlem. There's still a bit of daylight coming through the windows so I have all my lights off. It feels really quiet too with almost nothing but silence from the streets. Everything feels nice and still, almost most like there's this cold tint of blue to it.

Moving to Central Harlem a few months ago and living with my friend Jess has really been great so far. We've been friends since junior high school in Queens and grew up not far from each other in Flushing. She would always come over to my house back then and we'd order greasy food and watch bad tv for hours. Even almost two decades later, I guess some things never change.

It's Sunday evening here in Seoul, which also marks a little bit over my first full week in town.

I've spent a lot of my time eating and snacking on different things so far, ranging from street food to serious fine-dining. My favorite though has been the traditional Korean street food you'll find at almost any major subway stop or area. They're basically these tents or the backs of pickup trucks you walk up to and eat at while standing. You simply place an order for 1 serving of ddukbokki, kimbap, blood sausage, battered and deep fried squid/shrimp/vegetables, or fish cakes, and it's served right away. Everything is pretty much already made and ready to eat, but they'll quickly refry anything deep fried so it's nice and hot for you. And a small paper cup of the soup from the fish cakes will also be given for free as your savory beverage to sip on, so don't expect any water. This liquid will either be offfered to you directly, or you'll know it's self-serve by the ladle sticking out from the fish cake broth. Eating like this is great because I can have a feast on the cheap. Plus, it's also convenient for when I'm alone.

I've been particularly eating a lot of blood sausage called soondae, which I often crave in New York and have a small go-to spot in Flushing. But I do also need non-Korean food on a regular basis, so I've eaten great pasta and even the occasional fast food burger here as well. The dining choices are endless in Seoul, which is awesome. Another thing about Korean food culture is that they're absolutely coffee obsessed, so you'll find multiple cafes and Starbucks on any block. I personally avoid caffeine because it makes me feel crazy, but have had the occasional cup since arriving due to social situations. Korean people will meet for coffee at 10pm not for the caffeine, but just because it's an alternative to meeting at a bar in a culture that's so booze dominated. I've told myself no more coffee, though. My body just doesn't react to it well and I always end up feeling extremely wired and manic. The place where I'm staying at doesn't have wifi, so I have to go to cafes often for times I need to get online through my laptop. That's when I'll usually just order a tea to loiter for as along as possible, such as this very moment right now.

I had lunch this past Thursday at Jungsik, which is as fine-dining as you can get in Seoul. All of the food was spectacular, and the sommelier paired everything with some really great wines. A friend also showed me an area called Boseok-gil over the weekend, which means "jewelry road" and is a new neighborhood with a lot of small restaurants and cafes. It hasn't been completely overrun yet, which was a nice change to so many other main hotspots that are always packed with people and major chains. If you're looking to check out an up-and-coming area of Seoul, I definitely recommend it. My friend took me to a small Korean restaurant off Boseok-gil that's popular with young people for its newish, yet traditional, spin on Korean cuisine. It's called Jang Ggoma, and was super good. "Jang" translates to traditional sauces (think gochujang, ssamjang, etc), and "ggoma" means little kid. They don't have a lot of seating though, maybe 4-5 seats at the kitchen on the ground floor and less than 15 seats at a communal table on the second floor. You get to the upper level through a narrow staircase, and the communal table is made up of what used to be the door of a traditional Korean dresser made of beautiful mother-of-pearl. Eating there was such a fun and delicious experience overall.

I've been good with not going out at night or staying out too late because my main priority is getting work done. A lot of my friends and the people I'm working with drink daily until the wee of hours of the early morning, but I haven't done that yet. On the one or two nights I've gone out for a little, I've always tried to make the subway home before it stops running at midnight. But on those occasions, I will admit to ordering some Korean fried chicken near my place for when I do get off the train home a little tipsy. I think of it as my reward for getting back at what locals here would consider a modest hour.

As Sunday evening begins, it's nice to finish the weekend off by just hanging in bed.  

I've been on vacation for the past week, so I need to decompress and mentally prepare for Monday morning. My time off was great though, and much needed. It began with the wedding of a good childhood friend, and then a trip out to California to visit other friends who recently had babies.

Natalia and I have been friends since high school, and she moved to San Francisco a few years ago to be with her boyfriend, Mark. The two of them eventually became engaged, and the happy couple got married in New York last Sunday. Natalia and Mark both looked beautiful together at their wedding. Throughout the ceremony, I couldn't take my eyes off the bride's face. I was just so happy for her. Sitting there and witnessing this huge milestone of hers, I couldn't help but reminisce about all of the other big moments in life we had gone through together. I'm so proud of her and wish nothing but the best for her and Mark. 

I saw a lot of old friends I hadn't seen in a while as well, so the wedding's intimate guest list made the reception feel like one the best reunions ever. Fifteen years ago, my friends and I were all just kids from Queens about to start our freshman years of college. And now a decade-and-a-half later, here we all we were, celebrating the wedding of one of our very own with the growing skyline of Manhattan's west side all around. A lot has happened for each of us since our college days when we spent much of our time together. But none of that mattered. Being there with everyone as we laughed, danced, and shared stories, it brought out these emotions that made me feel like we were all back at that age again. It's that feeling of exuberance one has before the reality of adulthood seems to beat it out of you. I had completely forgotten about how it invigorates every cell of the body, drowning out everything that does nothing to contribute to its merriment---where limitless hope in the promise of tomorrow seemed to be the foundation to our days. Later in the night when one of my friends remarked that I had the same giggle from high school, it left me a little stunned. All I could wonder was wow, you still remember my giggle from high school? There's actually someone out there who remembers that about me from so long ago? 

Natalia and Mark's wedding was humbling on so many levels. On top of seeing a good friend get married to their soulmate, it left me feeling a bit stronger about who I am and where I'm from. I needed that reminder. 

The day after the wedding, I flew to Los Angeles to visit my friends Jenn and Daniel. I can't believe it's already been three years since I lived with them and moved back to New York. There's been a lot of change for them since then, mainly in the fact that they have two lovely children now. Their youngest, Isabella, is just over a month old, and their eldest, Bradley, will be three in February. Seeing Jenn and Daniel again and finally meeting their precious kids was such a joy. Staying with them for a week gave me a glimpse into the lives of their growing family, and all the hard work and love they put forth into their daily lives. They're such great parents and I'm so proud of them as well.

This past week was great with lots of glimpses of the past, and it's left me more than ready to forge on in my future.

The following essay is in celebration of my blog's 10th anniversary this month.

Not Always Cooking On High Heat by Tae Yoon

The only thing I really knew how to cook as a kid was instant ramen. For Koreans, instant ramen is like our version of fast food in a way. It's convenient, unhealthy, and oh so crave-worthy---which is everything a youngster wants when they're hungry. And whether it was while sleepy-eyed during breakfast or as an afternoon snack, it never ceased to quickly assuage an appetite.

No one really taught me how to make instant ramen when I was younger, but it wasn't difficult to figure out. I would turn the flame on to high heat and then stand there, watching to ensure I'd know the exact moment the water was ready. Then I'd drop in the noodles and flavor packets without wasting even a second of time. After a few minutes when the ramen was cooked, of course the best way to eat it was straight from the pot as soon as the gas was turned off. I would blow furiously into the first heap of noodles dangling from the chopsticks to avoid burning my mouth. And when the last spoonful of soup was devoured, that feeling of satisfaction came not only from my full stomach, but in a way, also how promptly I'd gotten there.

And for much of my life, this wasn't just how I cooked ramen. But basically how I did anything that wasn't good for me.

Drinking until I black out. Eating to the point of feeling physically ill. Smoking weed incessantly to never not be stoned. These three activities have honestly been way too big a part of my life for the past decade. And it's been a long and earnest journey to have a better understanding of why.

Alcohol has always been a big part of my life. The combination of growing up in New York and being Korean-American resulted in the excess of two big drinking cultures ingrained into my everyday norm. Going out to get hammered wasn't just for fun, but a way of being. The first real experience I had with alcohol was with a cousin and his friends at an old club on 32nd Street called News. We were 16-year-old sophomores in high school back then, ordering bottle service of Johnny Walker with fake ids and money we had all carefully saved up. It goes without saying that drinking the whiskey was only done in shots. This fast pace of imbibing felt welcoming and natural. Whoever it was initiating the next round to toss another one back, it was never an issue with me. Even then, I knew what state I wanted to be in, and was determined to get there as fast as possible. And as we all got wasted throughout the night, the rest of the guys focused on scoring phone numbers from girls while I aimed to get more drunk and dance my feelings away.

When college came around, my drinking patterns had already pretty much been set. From that early age, I was proud of the fact that I could handle a lot more alcohol than my friends. But the problem was I didn't know when to stop. Even at my 18th birthday party at a Flushing bar that let in underage drinkers, forcing everyone to clink glasses with only short breaks in between was my right as the birthday boy. Naturally, I ended up getting smashed off beer and soju. And ultimately began barfing into the empty beer pitchers on our table that night while simultaneously farting loudly as my friends looked on with enjoyment.

Being the comically drunken mess was obviously not something I was embarrassed of, because it sort of became my thing. I just liked getting fucked up. Since I was pretty closeted and was never in a relationship, I wasn't ever the one in the group who was dating so-and-so or having romantic drama. I was the guy who liked to have a good time and get wasted instead, deeming me neutral and harmless to others. Sure, I partied fast and hard and blacked out all the time. But I still kept my life together for the most part. Yes, I drank excessively, but so what? It wasn't a big deal. I mean I wasn't bothering anyone with it... except for myself, that is.

When I started this blog ten years ago at the age of twenty-three, this style of drinking was the only thing I knew. While I also slowly came out during this period, I was still always the single guy. And being so made it easy to continue partying this way into my early thirties. But now at the age of thirty-three, it's only within the past year or so that I've become truly exhausted of this pernicious cycle.

This much needed change of perspective is long overdue and a buildup of so many things, especially from a few events that happened in the past couples of years. The first is I lost my iPhone on a night out, and didn't even notice it until the next day. If I factor in the $800+ I paid to replace it, my stupidity from that evening literally cost me over a grand. The next incident happened on a night some friends and I went to a club in Brooklyn to see this big DJ spin. I got really inebriated early before any of my friends did. The DJ's set hadn't started, but I had to leave the club first because I could barely function. As I stumbled out of the venue alone to go crash at my friends' place, I got lost and couldn't find the nearby subway station. After I did eventually get on the G train, I was so drunk that I knocked out on the subway and woke up at the last stop of the train. I'm not even sure how long I was passed out on the G, because my friends who left the club hours after me got back to their apartment long before I should have. I remember opening my eyes at the Church Avenue stop to missed calls and frantic texts from my friends asking where I was. It took all my energy to stay awake in my drunken stupor when the train started moving again so I wouldn't miss my friends' stop. But to think about being trashed and passed out by myself on a Saturday night close to 5am where I was completely incapacitated, I'm just really grateful nothing happened. Another thing I've become acutely aware of during booze-filled sessions are these reoccurring moments where I actually haven't blacked out yet, but know I've had too much to drink. My brain will seem functional, but when I attempt to talk, everything coming out of my mouth makes me sound like a drunken idiot. I'll try to have a conversation or engage with someone, but my sentences emerge slurred and nonsensical. It's like what's happening in my head doesn't match how I'm directing my body, as if I'm no longer in control. All I can think at those moments is, holy shit, I totally sound like that drunk guy who needs to go home. I essentially make bad decisions when I drink, with the worst being that I'll order another.

These episodes are just a few of many that have made me re-evaluate my behavior, and has me fully accepting, "Tae, the party's over."

At this age, my hangovers are unbearable as well. The day after a late night out renders me totally useless. Not remembering how I got home or what dumb shit I said the night before has became more of a mental liability too. The stakes seem be higher now, and I've become hyper conscious about all the wasted time, money, and energy I've dedicated to this hobby. How many more times can I go out and get shitfaced like this? How much longer can I tell myself that I'm still actually having fun?

And it's not just with alcohol that I've been going at full speed with for the last ten years, but my issues with food have never left me. This dysfunctional relationship I've had with food is something I constantly struggle with. Eating provides this mental relief where nothing else matters. It's a goal that's so easily achievable and that I'm good at. Sometimes I just feel like I have to keep eating and eating until there's nothing left, or I'm full to the point of feeling gross. Providing nourishment to my body is the least likely reason I ever eat. Instead, I eat because it keeps my obsessive thoughts preoccupied. I eat because it's fulfilling on so many messed up levels. I eat because I deserve it, god damn it. I eat because sometimes I really don't like myself. But I know this has got to stop, and is something I need to truly gain control of. If I add up all the time spent in the past ten years of me being self-critical about my weight, it would be enough write a self-help book about how to be happy in life.

Smoking weed goes hand-in-hand with my immoderate drinking and eating. I'm the type of person who would rather be stoned all day everyday if possible. Life is straight up more interesting that way. And whether it's walking down the street or grocery shopping, even the most mundane activity transforms into something with layers and dimension. Marijuana has always relaxed me in a way where I stop overthinking everything, and I can just simply be. That feeling of liberation allows me to go about my day and not focus on things that can be emotionally draining. And that fuzzy warmth, I just love it so much. I get out of my head and become social. Why wouldn't I want to feel like that all the time? And that's where the problem lies. I've been toking up regularly since college, and have gone through years of doing it almost daily. But I can't just smoke one bowl. Like Ariel sang in the Little Mermaid, "I want more." And rolling joints nonstop or continuously packing another bowl to keep the party going became my routine.

The consequences of always getting stoned like this didn't hit me until about a year-and-a-half ago. I began to notice that whenever I ate, my food would taste really muted. I would be eating something I love, such as instant ramen, but its flavors I was expecting just weren't there. Then a week later, I would be having the same thing and everything would be fine again. My taste buds hovered on and off like this for some time, until one day they just seemed to disappear altogether. Yes, I could still tell the difference between things like ketchup and mustard, but there would be no discernible characteristics for either. Food literally lost its flavor, and I started eating more off texture, temperature, and appearance. When I finally went to go see an ear, nose and throat doctor, I was truthful about how much weed I smoked. My doctor advised me to stop my habit to see what changes. And lo and behold, my sense of taste fully returned months later.

The past ten years haven't just involved this trinity of bad habits though. There's definitely been way more of an abundance of good. I've been fortunate to have matured and grown into my true self. I've proved to myself who I really am and what I'm capable of. It's been an adventurous trip filled with humbling lessons that have allowed me to make a million mistakes at the same time. But I'm glad to have gotten a lot of them out of my system, and have no regrets about anything.

So much of the unhappiness I used to have back in 2006 dissolved with every subsequent failure I went through, struggle I overcame, and accomplishment I achieved, many of which are chronicled here. The ups and downs of this past decade have always existed over a foundation of growth, and that's what I'm most grateful for. Discovering something new everyday and keeping that nugget of knowledge to use during another high or low in life, that's what it's all about. And one important tip I'll always have at hand for myself is to simply chill out. Life doesn't always have to be lived like I'm cooking on high heat. A drink or two is enough for a fun time. A satisfying meal doesn't have to involve feeling stuffed with regret. A singular joint is plenty in providing the pleasure I'm seeking. And instant ramen can be cooked with patience at a boil and still taste great.

Looking back on the past decade of this blog, I now truly believe that everything in life will always be okay. Because I am the author of my own story, and I choose to write a happy one.

It's the ticking of the clock on the wall that makes the flashback complete when I close my eyes.

The familiar sound of the second hand moving takes me back to my old living room in Flushing. It was the heartbeat to my family's old house, always in the background on those late nights sneaking to the kitchen or countless hours in front of the tv. And now as I crash in the living room of my parents' place in New Jersey, the same wall clock hovers somewhere above my head. The comforting sound of life ticking forward comes with big aspirations once more. It's like I'm home in high school again, and everything about the future feels so promising.

It's been a night filled with moments that were years in the making. Being under the same roof with some family after what feels like a lifetime ago, it provides a feeling of being whole again.

The past few weeks or so.

The Unispehere at Flushing Meadows Corona Park on a cloudy day.

The 7 Train's historic subway line extension finally opened today with the debut of the 34 Street-Hudson Yards station.

The 34 Street-Hudson Yards stop officially began transporting passengers at 1pm today, making it the first new subway station in New York City since 1989. It's great that the west side of the city near 11th Avenue and 34th Street that's always usually been desolate of public transportation is now so easily accessible. Instead of having to take a cab or walk long avenue blocks, getting to the Far West Side or the Jacob Javits Center is just a quick subway ride away.

Growing up in Flushing, the 7 Train has always been northeastern Queens' public transportation lifeline into Manhattan and the entire city. Up until today, the first stop of the 7 Train had been Times Square and the last stop was Flushing Main Street. The line isn't long compared to so many other subways, but the back-and-forth shuttling between the two end points were always convenient in getting me to where I needed to go. Plus there are a multitude of stops between Times Square and Flushing Main Street to transfer and get to anywhere within the 5 boroughs. However, now the last stop of the 7 Train is no longer Times Square, but one additional stop west to the 34 Street-Hudson Yards station. I think the line extension is truly a great thing for the city, but waiting today at the Times Square platform to check it out for the first time had me feeling nostalgic.

I basically used to take the 7 Train everyday starting from college to the time when I moved out of my house in Flushing. Since I could get on at Flushing Main Street and take it straight to the last stop of Times Square in order to transfer to another line (and vice-versa when going home), my commute gave me ample time to get stuff done. Napping the entire train ride was always great because I never had to worry about missing my stop. I could just grab a seat while the train sat at Flushing Main Street to depart, and then open my eyes to find myself at the Times Square station. The commute also allowed me to get tons of reading done, whether it was for school or any personal stuff. Sometimes I actually miss having a long continuous subway ride to work for this reason. Of course with the 7 Train being mostly on an elevated track through Queens, staring out the window was always a favorite thing to do as well.

The actual new 34 Street-Hudson Yards station I visited today is quite beautiful and modern. It even had this new-car smell which I'm sure will soon dissipate and be replaced with urine as the station undergoes its very first of infinite Monday morning commutes tomorrow. Another thing I really loved was the escalator ride from the subway platform up to the level of turnstiles, which was extremely long but so cool because the angle at which it went up seemed steeper than usual and gave me a little vertigo.

Below are some pictures of the station I took today. After I rode the 7 Train from Times Square to 34 Street-Hudson Yards, I walked around the area to check out the exterior of the station and the Hudson Yards surrounding it. There's even some new parks that have been built in the area with water fountains and sitting areas that have large Jenga-like blocks for people to play with.

One funny thing to note though is that as I finished walking around Hudson Yards and entered the new station to head back, one of the escalators had already malfunctioned and was quickly being repaired. Even with the $2.4 billion price tag and today being its opening day, this is still the subway in New York City and shit always happens.