The Return of A Professional Clickity Clacker

Woke up in Bali. Not like by accident or anything, I flew from Vietnam to Bali on Wednesday. So waking up in Bali was to be expected. A given, even. Ha. Given-even. My brain feels funny, but I still write every morning. I'm not even sure why anymore. Was I ever sure? Also not sure. Not sure of being not sure. That would be the slogan for my autobiography. Side note: write an autobiography one day. I’m sure that will attract many audiences. Being me is so relatable and interesting for millions, I assume.

I guess why I am writing is because I have barely done it for the last few years. I used to love writing since I was a kid, to my parents’ horror, as I forced them to read handwritten books which had no plot and also my terrible handwriting in which you couldn’t really say which letter was which.

Then I loved writing in college. I studied Film Production and focused on screenwriting the most. And I kept writing screenplays, mostly for fun, for myself, to stop the instant flow of thoughts (if you can call whatever is going through my brain “thoughts”). I did that and then Covid happened, during which I wrote a lot but also was kind of busy being dramatic about living in Los Angeles and not being able to go out much. Next thing I know I moved to NYC and got sucked into a hospitality job. Not by force — I did enjoy it actually. And then when I finally quit and decided to travel, the main reason was to get back to writing. So I guess this answers my question about why I write.

I do write screenplays, but I like to get my thoughts out in the morning beforehand so I can stay a little on track. Success rate on that is very so/so. I still get derailed every five minutes. The point is, I am in Bali now and, in case you can’t tell from this vomit of words, my flow is already much better. Like, I basically can’t stop clickity-clacking on my keyboard. Thank god my friend and I booked a villa with a downstairs table and kitchen and upstairs bedroom or she would be very upset. Yes, I type kind of loudly when I am excited and trying to catch up with all my thoughts.

And honestly, I think I’m starting to get my creativity back.

Yesterday before bed I started getting all those ideas again — for this blog, for other long-term projects, for scripts.

What’s funny is that three weeks ago I was desperate to stop moving around. I was exhausted from constantly packing, unpacking, taking another bus to catch another flight to another place. I was genuinely excited to stay in an apartment by myself for a while. And now? Nothing sounded more exciting to me than leaving again.

Which got me thinking: how exactly am I supposed to survive in NYC long term?

Granted, I’ll immediately get a job when I’m back because unfortunately money continues to be important and society remains committed to that concept. But still. I started wondering if this trip taught me that I genuinely don’t function well staying in one place for too long. I’ve moved around my whole life. Moving is kind one of my personality traits at this point.

And honestly, my Co–Star app fully clocked me this week. On Monday it sent me: “Your lust for limit testing needs to be examined.” Which, fair enough. I like pushing things emotionally, socially, financially, creatively. Whenever I see a limit, my first instinct is usually to ask whether the limit is actually real. There’s always this weird confidence that I can push it further and somehow still land on my feet. Tell me not to do something and suddenly it becomes the only thing I want to do.

And then the second part of the Co–Star message somehow hit even harder: “The urge to blow things up feels overwhelming right now. Before you act, ask yourself: am I seeking growth or just seeking proof I can survive the wreckage?” That line got stuck in my head for hours. Because I don’t think “blowing things up” always means literal destruction. Sometimes it’s abandoning routines the second they become stable. Sometimes it’s sabotaging structure because boredom starts feeling unbearable. And I realized there actually is a difference between seeking chaos and seeking movement.

I don’t think coming to Bali was me chasing wreckage. I had been thinking about coming back basically since I left. I didn’t impulsively book it the second my friend mentioned it. I sat with it. Thought about it. Called my dad for advice. He unfortunately declined my generous offer for him to finance my flights, but he did say I should go where I feel most creative.

And I think I finally figured something out about myself: I am not productive in total isolation. At all, honestly. I work best when there’s structure, movement, people around me, conversations happening somewhere in the background. My brain likes motion. It likes coming back from outside with something to write about.

That’s different than creating chaos just for the sake of it.

So yeah. I think I made a good decision coming here.