July 21, 2020
journalling while covid-19
I started writing this entry on a typical Saturday evening for the summer these days: it's still and quiet, and all of my neighbors are home — not at bars, not at clubs dancing, nor at the karaoke bar. I'd much prefer to be at a karaoke bar, but here I am, sitting on my couch plastered with the shape of my ass, writing this long-delayed piece of writing that I know I've been wanting to start for the past few days, weeks, months.
Today was especially exciting in these recent days: I got to spend the morning sitting on the airy, back patio of a beloved book/coffee shop with an Americano and new book I'm reading (Minor Feelings by Cathy Park Hong; would recommend 100%). It's been only recent that I've begun revisiting pastimes — the past before COVID hit. These days, I can actually read. But in the beginning of the quarantine, the only thing I could read was the news. As much as I would have liked to not consume myself in graph charts depicting growing hospitalization counts and ICU bed availability, that was what consumed me most of March and April. I don't know what happened in May and June, except that I went outside more and escaped into the outdoors. I thought I'd prefer being completely alone in the outdoors than completely alone in my 1-bedroom apartment by myself. I'm happy to be rambling; this miscellany is what my brain holds.
Along the hours that have ticked away unceremoniously over the past few months,
I've done a lot of thinking about all realms of my lives. For a long while -
even before the quarantine, before the world stopped, I thought about how much I
miss blogging and having my own place on the internet. One that didn't sit
within another platform. Where I could post pictures of my kittens and hiking
trips without ingratiating for
comments from the people I follow
digitally but don't talk to IRL. Where I could share my candid, messy thoughts
without worrying about its professionalism from those in my tech network. A
place to be scrappy and unorganized and honest and human.
I used to have a place like on the internet. I'm thinking back to the days I used Xanga and LiveJournal and Myspace and AIM. There was definitely a sense of self-curation and consciousness around how my crushes would perceive me in this middle-school era. There was also an unravelling and truthfulness to how they served as digital journals for people to eat up. People could really get to know me — if I let them. If I dared shared my Xanga handle with them. Here it is, now devour me. I'll share this much with you that I may not share IRL.
I think I want to make this personal website more like that for me. Now that I've somehow managed to learn the web design and development skills to do this, I want to make my website less a purely professional space with my online design portfolio, and more a blended space of who Lisa is. She is neat and messy. Candid and planned. Professional and personal. You're welcome.