My 30th Birthday Present is a Blog
When I thought of turning 30, I always imagined a stable job—maybe not yet stable, but a job. A wife was ideal; a girlfriend more realistic, I suppose. And certainly a life far from my hometown.
This actually happened two years ago. I was overseas, in a long-distance relationship, and working at intergovernmental organisation. I had a nice apartment, a job I was proud of, and a life that, from where I was standing, seemed to be going in the right direction.
Obviously, it wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough that I could imagine the next few years without having to think too hard about whether this 30K IDR ($1.70) coffee was going to ruin my financial tomorrow.
I broke up with my ex last year. The marriage we planned for early this year was cancelled. And the job I was proud of was no longer mine. I went through loads of interviews that ended with 'thank you', and no 'see you' yet. Still better than the goodbye my ex said to me.
Nevertheless, I am here. In my hometown, positive and confident that I am secure. Skills that I acquired, savings that I accumulated, all the things I bought during my employment that ended up on Facebook Marketplace—everything is keeping my future secure, at least until the end of 2026.
With all this free time between job applications, I wanted to play music, photograph, and write again. Years ago, I bought a keyboard, learned a bit, and sold it because I needed money to relocate. Around that time, I also bought two years of hosting and a domain, only to post two poems despite having written hundreds. I don't have the courage to post the rest. That's what I told myself, anyway.
The truth is, I didn't have the energy to log in, click this, find the dashboard, and then this, and then that, and reload, and okay, why is the page broken now? Why is it so slow? Oh, I need to troubleshoot it at 11 p.m. and it still broke.
When I moved overseas, I left the site untouched. Then, one busy day, surfing the net at the office, I stumbled onto this minimalist site. Words, words, only words. A website so simple I couldn't help but read. It had no animation, no complicated header, footer, or anything fancy—and it looked great. And I assumed it would be easy to maintain. But I had no time to write; my workload was endless.
Now I'm home and unemployed. I've decided to write essays alongside my freelance photography. I chose to publish them on Substack and Medium. I enjoyed the process, but whenever I hit publish, I never felt that my writing belonged on either platform. I was writing personal stories that had nothing to do with optimisation, improvement, productivity, healing, learning, finding self, or all the stuff that drives people's attention. That was never my goal, though I couldn't help but feel alienated by these platforms. I couldn't connect.
So, I tried to look back for that minimalist website. I forgot the name, but I knew it was a micro-blog or something. Then I stumbled across Bear Blog instead. I read the docs, the manifesto, and decided to sign up. I edited my theme, set up the navigation page that was not yet finished, wrote a bio several times, and... to my surprise, when clicking 'upgrade', I was welcomed with a message supporting Purchasing Power Parity (PPP). It even had a lifetime option, and I could get it for half price? I was sold.
Except, my savings wouldn't let me spend $104.50 (tax included) without putting a hole in my finances this year. Come on, I don't need that upgrade, Bear Blog is free. Except I'd already bought a custom domain for my email, one I'd planned to use for my photography brand. And wouldn't it be cool to use it for the site? That's when I couldn't stop staring at the upgrade button. Except—third one, I know—am I getting pulled back into all-or-nothing thinking? I could do one month first. Upgrade to lifetime later, once I've saved enough.
I closed the browser tab. On the TV, a soap opera was playing. I was surprised my eyes didn't feel violated by the horrible acting and out-of-nowhere ad placements. But Mum was watching beside me. I didn't mind. We talked a lot. About our family, about my supposed family that became a what-if, other what-ifs, the job market, politics, the politics that caused this dire job market, and the inevitable future of me turning 30 next month.
Our eyes met when she asked me, 'What do you want to do next?'
'Writing,' I said. I told her that I had written hundreds of poems that I’ve never published. I write essays, and I want to write more. I told her photography has been helping me a lot financially, but writing has always been the thing I love the most. I write in my journal, and it is not enough. I want to be heard, to be read. I need a home for my writing so that someone can witness it. And a website is that home.
She asked, 'Do you need money for it?'
I... I was silent.
I looked away from her, my eyes now on the actor on the TV trying to kiss the woman, and I looked back at her, saying, 'Yes.'
She goes, 'How much money? Let me pay it for you.'
While smiling, I could feel that my eyes were on the edge of crying. One blink... and god damn it, I cannot cry here, get a grip, you 30-year-old man... I turned my face away. I took a hushed breath and said 'Buy it as a gift. For my 30th birthday next month.'
Birthday presents are not a thing in our family; I believe it is the same for most Indonesians, especially my generation. For this one, I wanted to be a part of this worldwide tradition, even at this age. So, laugh your ass off, but my Mum is going to buy me a website subscription for a birthday present.
No job, no girlfriend, just Mum on the sofa, the soap opera still playing.
She witnessed it.
P.S. I am writing this a month before my birthday, and during that time, the money that was supposed to pay for the lifetime subscription has been used to kick-start my photo booth business. Hence, I decided to sign up for one month instead, and I'll bite the bullet and get the lifetime plan after accumulating enough revenue.