I’m Back

Some lessons learned from a year of living (mostly) offline

Early morning ferry to Kingston via Seattle WA, August 27, 2023

Last September, I published a so-called “manifesto” where I declared that I would be taking a year off writing and being online, stating that I was simply too overwhelmed with being a person on the internet. At the end, I even included a laundry list of all the things I’d planned to do offline.

Being offline has been great in so many ways. But I also missed writing a lot. For me, writing is a form of therapy. I write because it’s cheaper than going to a real therapist. I write because it helps me make sense of the world. I write because I want to share my vulnerabilities online hoping it’ll help someone feel less alone.

Writing for yourself is fine, if all you want to do is vent and never plan to show anyone your thoughts or seek out feedback in anyway, but that’s not my goal. It has never been my goal. I want to grow as a writer but I can’t do it alone.

That’s why I’ve decided to come back. I’m giving myself the freedom to have fun, to not be on a specific posting schedule, and the opportunity to interact with all of you. Thanks for sticking it out with me.

I could write a whole book about my year offline, but I’ll start off slow. Here are 10 lessons I learned this past year.

1. FOMO happens whether you’re online or not.

I thought that by taking myself away from social media and the things we all know to be “surface level” it would reduce FOMO—you know, that feeling like you’re missing out on something cool that everyone seems to be doing. The truth is…it didn’t. Instead of writing, aka producting content, I trolled around the internet, reading and admiring people and seeing things happen that I wanted to be a part of.

The same can be said for the real world. The fear of missing out is real, and prevalent regardless of whether or not you’re virtual. It goes back to the old adage of, “We always want what we can’t have.”

2. Embrace the unknown.

The late American novelist Philip Roth once said, “All that we don’t know is astonishing. Even more astonishing is what passes for knowing.” I recently stumbled upon this quote in a note on my phone while deleting its contents. I don’t remember when I inputted this quote, but I presume that it must’ve made an impression on me, as it still does.

I used to think too much about how my readers will interpret my writing, and there are things I wouldn’t say for fear that I’d overstep boundaries or something. Now, I think of writing as three parts: first part is thinking, second part is writing/publishing, and the third is receiving feedback. Without all three, it wouldn’t be good.

3. Don’t overthink it.

As humans, we’re scared of things we don’t know (see above), and the result of that is whenever we want to make a big decision, we think, plan, and argue back and forth about what the “right” thing to do is, even though deep down we know there is no such thing as the “right” time to do anything. I’m reminded of this great quote by the best-selling author James Clear in which he says:

“Finish something. Anything. Stop researching, planning, and preparing to do the work and just do the work. It doesn’t matter how good or how bad it is. You don’t need to set the world on fire with your first try. You just need to prove to yourself that you have what it takes to produce something. There are no artists, athletes, entrepreneurs, or scientists who became great by half-finishing their work. Stop debating what you should make and just make something.”

4. Don’t be afraid to make mistakes.

Recently, I finished watching The Bear (you know, that hit TV show on Hulu about a world-renowed chef who comes home to save his late brother’s dying restaurant?) and there was one scene that stuck out with me.

In the scene, Marcus, an aspiring pastry chef, goes to stage in Copenhagen to learn how to become a better pastry chef. He stands in the kitchen at Noma talking to the head pastry chef as they work on the menu. The two men go back and forth, asking each other questions about their backgrounds and aspirations.

“How’d you get to be so good?” Marcus asks the chef.

“I just made a lot of mistakes,” he replies.

That’s gold right there. Success involves making lots of mistakes, but it also means forgiving yourself even if you make mistakes.

5. Do it because it makes sense to you.

Rationality, in this case, does not apply. Humans are known to be irrational at times. We do things that makes no sense to anyone, except ourselves. Take, for example, my decision to stop writing for a year. For some of you, it probably didn’t make any sense at all. But for me, at the time, it did.

“Why I’m doing this” was what I did in my outgoing post in September of last year, but then I realized, I didn’t have to explain anything. I could disappear for a year and there’s plenty of people who wouldn’t even notice. But then again, I’m human, and like most humans, we are prone to explaining ourselves to others, in hopes of gaining acceptance. Now I think: I’m going to do this “thing” because it makes sense to me, not because it makes sense for someone else.

6. The secret formula to getting better at anything: dedication and repetition.

In August, my husband and I drove up to Seattle to see Ed Sheeran in concert¹. As I sat there listening to Sheeran, I was struck by what he said.

In between songs, he told a story about how when he was 18, he played open mic nights at local venues (local being London, UK, where he’s from) with people’s backs turned to him. “If I close my eyes, I can clearly see myself playing to a room full of no one,” he says. “I wrote a song and I kept playing that song again and again and again until someone noticed, and then it became a hit in the UK, and in America. Now, 14 years later, here I am, in a stadium with 81,000 of you. It’s surreal.”

At that moment, I realized that the secret formula to becoming better at any skill is simply dedication and repetition.

Okay, we can’t all be Ed Sheerans, but you get the idea. Whatever that “thing” is for you, you just have to do it again and again and again until it becomes second nature. Until people take notice. I guess it all comes down to this: don’t give up, even when it’s hard.

7. Anything worth doing is going to be hard.

See #6. As Dolly Parton once said, “The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain.”

8. Look to your community for motivation.

As a writer on the internet, I compare myself to others all the time. I try not to but’s hard. I do this because I’m trying to better, and what better way to do so than to seek out people who are better than you? I also do it because I’m human and I crave validation, and because being a writer is hard, especially when, like owning a restaurant, you’re more likely to fail than succeed.

While this is all very toxic and unhealthy behavior, writing for an audience also provides the benefit of constant feedback. I love constructive criticism. I love giving it and receiving it as well. I realize I can’t get better unless I know what my audience wants and likes; and when I’m feeling down, I can read what others have written for inspiration.

9. Just because something isn’t novel to you doesn’t mean it’s not novel for someone else.

Almost every Saturday for the past three years, I take my kids to see my mom. We generally go grocery shopping (more for her than me), then we hang out in her apartment. And just about every Saturday, she prepares a dish for the two of us: vermicelli noodles with fried egg rolls and a mixture of vegetables (sliced cabbage and/or lettuce) and herbs like Thai basil or mint, topped with ground peanuts and fish sauce. And every time I see her making this dish, I groan. “Ugh, not again.”

But recently, I realized that while this dish is old to me, it may not be old for my mom. After all, her weekly diet, as prescribed by her doctors, is what you may call, “Bland 3.0,”—think brown rice, steamed vegetables, blanched chicken, or bitter melon soup, all with either low-sodium soy sauce or no sauce at all. (We Vietnamese people love sauce, so this is hard to refrain from). The fact that she makes this dish when I’m there is a treat for herself.

Then I thought of Ed Sheeran. As a musician, he’s played perhaps thousands of shows, not including the many hours he spent writing, recording, and rehearsing songs. But for me, seeing him play in concert for the first time was also my first time, period. And it was so, so special because it was a brand new experience for me.

The same idea can be applied to writing. I realized that I have to approach every post as if it might be someone’s very first time reading it. Perhaps they don’t know me at all; thus, I have to make it worth their while because first impressions are so, so important.

10. No journey is complete without bumps along the way.

Another fabulous quote I found saved on my phone was this Hindu proverb on the many ways to win:

“There are hundreds of paths up the mountain, all leading in the same direction, so it doesn’t matter which path you take. The only one wasting time is the one who runs around the mountain, telling everyone that his or her path is wrong.”

This makes me feel a lot better, because it reminds me that everyone has a different path toward their goals, and mine doesn’t have to mirror others at all.

If you’re new here, allow me to re-introduce myself:

I’m Hoang Samuelson, the lead writer behind this newsletter, which is mostly a food blog. I’ve also written about other things, like I’m writing a book based on my parents’ youth, my complicated relationship with my mom, about friendship and food, and about my travels around the USA and the west coast, where I live with my husband, two kids (ages 7 and 10), and a dog.

Thanks for reading. I really appreciate it. I’ll be back soon with more food and non-food related content and more thoughts on the past year’s experience. In the meantime, if this post resonated with you, don’t forget to click the buttons. You know which one. 👇🏼👇🏼👇🏼Thanks, friends!

P.S. Do you follow me on Instagram?

1. It was our very first concert ever. Shameful, I know. I need to go on more concerts.