Long-form

Long-form blog posts and editorials. Topics cover both personal and the world at large.

Once More, With Feeling! - 2023 Reflections

Ah, the last week of December. The time of the year for reflection and gratitude. Principally because I am fortunate to have the entire week off. The perks of working in higher education: the time between Christmas Eve and New Year’s Day is automatic vacation. No PTO is involved at all. Shoutout to all the tech bros who have this perk as well. Granted, I don’t get paid nearly as well as you folks do. But then again, I don’t want your work hours and stress levels either. Quarterly performance reviews - what are those?

This week of reprieve from work is an absolute privilege. I try to not take it for granted, though thankfully I don’t have to go very far. A visit to the local mall is enough reminder that for a lot of people, this “dead week” for me is some of the busiest times for them. Going to Costco on the week before Christmas is a complete disaster of congestion. Salute to the hard-working folks in the service industry. I am grateful I do not have to do your job for a living.

The rest of us should quit complaining: tip these people well and often.

Comparison can be the thief of joy, but I think it can also be humbling and motivating. Amongst my friends I make the least amount of money. I can either be jealous and sad about it, or use it as motivation to earn more money for myself. In reality I am neither of those. What’s there to complain about when so many people don’t have what I’ve got: a job that pays well, with great benefits (pension, baby!), and superb work-life balance.

Keeping this perspective actually provides me with great passion for what I do. Information Technology support may not be my first choice (or second, or third) for a career, but here I am nonetheless. It’s way more useful to be excited about the job than lethargy, or the “quiet quitting” thing that’s seemingly the rage in the news (read: putting in the minimally required effort). I have a choice, right? It’s better to choose enthusiasm and positivity. The work is more interesting that way, and the work days go by quickly.

To say I am passionate about my job may be overselling it, but I genuinely believe I am moving the needle in some way. A working laptop for a faculty allows them to teach: is that not what this whole education enterprise is all about? I can and absolutely do take pride in that. I greatly appreciate the gifts of chocolate from faculty members this time of the year, a small token of their thanks. That’s enough motivation for me.

However, there’s about 10 percent of me that wonders: what’s next? Is there something more, different, or better? I guess I am more Type A than I realized. A weird thing during this final week of the year off is an often sense of uneasiness. This is a week for recharging, and doing relatively nothing (except for writing the many thousands words of this, of course). Yet the urge for productivity is difficult to pause. I feel like I should be doing something other than sitting on this couch, on my fifth hour of YouTube watching.

What makes it more weird is that I was so excited for this week off before it arrived! Now that the week is here and I’m in the middle of it, I find myself asking an existential, “Now what?” It’s a sort of emptiness similar to the time I bought the Porsche 911 GT3. I’d just purchased my absolute dream car, and all that’s left afterwards was a tremendous sense of emptiness. It seems I am happier(?) being on the hamster wheel than being off it. But I already have my dream car - there’s nothing more after that? There’s no proverbial wheel to get back on.

You got/achieved the thing you’ve always wanted. Or the thing you’re massively looking forward to has arrived.

“Now what?”

It’s a crushingly existential question. 2023 is done. 2024 is soon to arrive. Now what?

You certainly won’t find me starting a new gym membership on January 1st (the unofficial national join a gym day). That’s because I’ve been exercising regularly since my early twenties. Granted, I’ve slacked off greatly since the beginning of the pandemic. Even though I’ve since lost the ‘COVID 15’ increase, my fitness level was not on par with what it was back in my late twenties. I was content with this situation, until something I did in 2023.

I took improv classes.

You’d be right in thinking: there’s no direct link between improvisation and physical fitness. The only thing remotely physically demanding about improv class is all the standing around. The inspiration to maximize my fitness was spurred on by the location where the classes are held: Fort Mason Center for the Arts, in the heart of the Marina District.

On every weekly visit to the Marina Green, my sights were inundated with people working out. Even on a Tuesday evening, when it’s typically dinner time, folks are getting a run in after a (presumably) long day at work. Meanwhile, I am sat on a bench at the park eating a plate of fried chicken and French fries from the nearby Safeway. The contrast cannot be starker. My once-a-week workout program suddenly felt shamefully inadequate. Maybe it’s that easy: place gyms next to fast food places. People gorging on unholy food items would feel embarrassed if there’s people working out in their direct line of sight.

Honestly, it’s seeing all the hotties in yoga pants that was the motivation. There are so many of them around Fort Mason. You think Chloe Ting is popular because her workouts on YouTube actually works? Even if it did, Chloe Ting would do way better view numbers than Chris Ting. The power of skin-tight leggings that accentuates the female booty is limitless. For me, I feel like I have to be at my physical best (at least endeavor to, anyways) in order to measure up. That’s the standard.

(Ladies, it’s super easy to attract a dude: be fit, wear yoga pants, and keep long hair tied up in a single pony tail. Magic.)

So towards the second half of 2023, I returned to a three days per week workout schedule of my twenties. Two of them heavy (relative, mind you) lifting days, and the other one a day for running. I think it’s important to have a mix of resistance and cardio training. The goal isn’t to look good naked (though that’s a welcomed positive effect); the goal is to be functionally sound for as long as possible into the aging process. If I want to be 80 years old and still be able to pick up 30-pound grandkids (a deadlift, essentially), then I’d better be able to lift multiples pounds more than that here in my mid 30s. Walk around the neighborhood unassisted in my 80s? I’d better be able to run many consecutive miles now.

The turn towards more exercising was also spurred on by the revelation that my blood glucose A1C levels have crept into the pre-diabetic level (5.7). That number is a bit inexplicable because I am generally quite healthy. My diet is decent, I workout enough (a number above zero), and I get decent amounts of sleep. How the heck am I in danger of diabetes? Nevertheless, numbers don’t lie. A1C levels are an aggregate of the last three months, so it’s not a fluke. My lifestyle had to change. High A1C is correlated to increase chance of all-cause mortality.

In addition to working out more, I’ve cut off unnecessary carbs. No more large bowl of rice for dinner in the evening. Anything with added sugar is entirely verboten. I’ve hugely increased protein intake, in concordance with the weightlifting (one gram of protein per one pound of body weight (per day)). My sleep schedule turned to utter precision: eight and a half hours of in-bed time for eight hours of sleep. Same bed and wake time every day, especially Sunday. And no electronics of any kind in bed.

I expect my A1C levels to lower into normal figures in 2024.

Proper sleep and consistent exercise are such magical elixirs towards our overall health, more so than anything pharmaceutical can provide (for now). Best of all, it’s completely free. What’s sad is people would rather have medicine solve the problem. Because it’s an easy shortcut. It’s also free, provided you are gainfully employed with provided health insurance. (America!)

Folks want shortcuts because they want immediate results. More people would exercise if one session of training loses 30 pounds of fat (rather than one year of training). You tell them it will take at least a year of consistent training, then they don’t want it. In a world of endless dopamine drip that social media provides (looking at you, TikTok), we’re simply not conditioned for long-term thinking and delayed gratification. The marshmallow test has become the Kobayashi Maru.

As I get older, the only way I want to think is long term. Time horizon in years and decades. Anything that’s worthwhile takes quite a bit of time (losing weight, for example). The day-to-day will get boring as habits for the long-term don’t change. (Another Sunday, another five-mile run.) Heck, even year-to-year may get boring. In 2023 I read lots of books, studied Korean every day, and wrote on this website. I’ve been doing these three things on a daily and yearly basis since 2015. (I’m not changing any of that up for 2024 either.) If you’re constantly seeking novelty in your day-to-day and month-to-month, then you’re guided by dopamine.

Two people who really could use a medicinal shortcut substitute for sleep: my housemates slash landlords slash good friends. In 2023, they had babies. That’s right: plural. Due to circumstances completely beyond their control, the fertilized egg split into two, and out came twin boys. A life achievement ticked. The friend groups are supremely happy for the two new parents. Though with twins, they are definitely playing the parenthood game on hard mode. To put it slightly off-putting: it’s kind of like one of the twin is a wanted pregnancy, and the other twin is an unwanted pregnancy. One baby at a time is difficult enough already.

The big change for me vis a vis the new bundles of joy (because it’s all about me) is that for the first time, I have someone occupying the space above my room. Goodbye to two and a half years of peace and quiet. Yes, the babies cry often, every single day. But, their cries - and accompanying noise when their parents are in the room - have become ambient noise. That’s the new normal, and it has not negatively affect how I live. I’m not the one waking up in the middle of night (the power of a white noise machine) tending to fussy babies.

Before the babies arrived in September, there was some mutual apprehension. I was worried that I would get kicked out of the house (because they needed the room or whatever), and my friend were worried I would leave the house (because the extra baby and baby-related noise would be too distracting). Obviously, both worries canceled each other out. I am still renting this studio-sized space from my friends, and I have zero intentions of moving out any time soon. The ability to walk to work is way too precious.

It’ll be interesting and fun to see the twin boys grow up right before my very eyes in the coming years.

Circling back to improv classes. It was not something I wanted to do. My standardized plate of (let’s call them) hobbies - reading, writing, Korean studying, photography - keeps me busy and fulfilled enough. The reason I signed up for improv classes is because of my best bud. A goal of his is to perform improv on stage, and the foundational lessons are the first of many steps. The dream is his. Because I am the world’s most supportive friend ever (slight exaggeration), I signed up alongside.

Three six-week classes in, I can say doing improv is one of the best things I’ve done this year (even if I don’t count how it tangentially got me to increase exercising). While I have no desire to perform on stage, the skills of improv is hugely applicable to every day life. The main thing is authenticity: you absolutely have to be yourself, and actually let the rest of the world see it. In improv there is no time to consider what other people think. Whatever comes to mind first, that’s the answer. It may indeed sound and look ridiculous, but it’s authentically you.

Improv definitely countered my tendencies toward self-preservation and worrying about what others think. Getting to practice saying and doing exactly what I am feeling - in that moment - chipped away at these ingrained habits. The point isn’t to be rude, but rather be unreserved in expressing what you think and being who you are. I can disagree with a friend without being an asshole. In the before times, I would just not say anything, because I would worry the friend might get mad at my disagreement.

The other big thing from improv is that it’s okay to be boring. A trip-wire in my social skills is the latent worry of being uninteresting, or running out of things to say. In improv, you can and must make interesting from boring. Being too concerned with coming up with something funny or fantastic will lead to locking up. The student ends up pausing with nothing to say in the middle of a scene. The trick is to notice something mundane, say it, then roll with it. The simple act of making coffee can sprout into something interesting.

In my everyday conversation with people, if there’s a lull in the conversation, I would pick something from immediate observation. It can indeed be the weather, or that street sign is crooked. Another thing I can do is say whatever that pops into my head (true improvisation), with zero care for applicability or fascination. It’s really about offering up something to the other person, and seeing if they want to respond to it. Often times the mention of something ordinary can trigger them into a story or anecdote. When that happens, I only have to listen.

Taking specialized classes as an adult. Check.

Another thing checked off the life experience list this year is getting bitten by a dog. It was friendly fire, no less. At the beginning of the year, a friend decided to adopt from the local SPCA. Rescuing a pet and providing it with a loving home is a deed of the highest order. It is especially so for my friend, because the pit-bull she adopted apparently had a horrific previous life. Due to tremendous maltreatment, the dog fiercely resource-guards, to the point of attacking other dogs and humans. If a dog enters his territory in an unfriendly way, he will defend with his teeth. Come between him and a piece of food, and he will literally bite you in the face.

Thankfully, I did not get bitten in the face. Instead it was my right arm. The dog was eating something, and I got a bit too close for his liking. Compounding my misery is that I should have known better: we were three months into training out his resource-guarding tendencies (all worthwhile things take time, remember). By then I was already familiar with his triggers. One slight moment of carelessness and boom, bite mark scars on my arm for the rest of my life.

My friend - the parent - was even less lucky: bitten twice. I greatly admire her tenacity and determination in rescuing this dog. We make decisions and commitments in life, and the honorable thing would to be see them through to the end, especially when the going gets really rough. No shortcuts, no rewinds. It would be all too easy for my friend to return the dog to the SPCA (where it will get put down for sure) after the second biting incident. But she stuck with it, paid for the many expensive lessons with a trainer, and practiced often when it’s just her and the dog. Those early months were arduous, even for me, an outsider looking in who was only there for some of the time.

The experience increased my appreciation and love for animals. Cruelty towards animals is the lowest of low, and absolutely cannot be tolerated. Show me any feel-good video about pets (reuniting with their long lost parent, for example) and I can easily bawl my eyes out. Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 was a surprisingly tough watch.

It’s fair to say that 2023 is the first year when the COVID 19 pandemic is officially over. China dropping all pretense of control back in December of 2022 was the final buzzer. No more restrictions, no more counting cases and deaths. Masking has become a personal choice. From observation, after three years of heavy masking, we were all too ready to stop. I was happy to do so because the mask material was causing heavy acne breakouts on the face.

What has lingered on from the pandemic is inflation, especially when it comes to food. The standard wage increase we got at work back in 2022 entirely disappeared into the inflated cost of living. The constant theme in 2023 is being surprised at how expensive things have gotten (or remain). You can’t buy a meal these days (for one person) for less than $10. At restaurants of the sit down and get served variety, prepare at least $20. Korean food - a favorite cuisine of mine - is touching $30.

This year I’ve definitely cut back on eating out, at least in choosing the “cheaper” options, if not frequency. A $13 burrito bowl (with extra guacamole) at Chipotle remains a championship choice.

I hope I am not the only person who cannot get used to these sort of prices. I swear the rest of you guys seem to be inelastic to prices. Economics 101: there’s no incentive to lower prices if customer demand never falters. It cannot be normal for hotel prices to start at $200 per night even at the most middling of chains and locations. This customer is highly price elastic, which is why I didn’t travel anywhere in 2023. I cannot stomach paying the inflated airfare and hotel costs. These high prices won’t come back down until there’s more of me out there.

But if people cut back on spending, the economy would immediately go to shit, wouldn’t it? Advertisements to get people to buy things: that’s the whole house of cards.

Obviously, I do gladly spend money on things I am passionate about. At relatively great expense, I bought a new camera this year. In 2024 I have to start paying for maintenance on the BMW M2 (thankfully the insurance on the car has not gone up with everything else). I will never cease buying books to read, though I try to buy used whenever possible (unless it’s the same price new or used). Got to spend it on something, right? Otherwise, what is the point of working so hard.

Follow my passions: that’s what I want to focus on in 2024. The few important things to take up my time and resources. The COVID pandemic haze is over: time to get on with life. The destination is the journey.

I wish you all the best of health in the coming year.

Top 10 Songs of 2023

1. NewJeans - Ditto
2. NewJeans - OMG
3. Red Velvet - Chill Kill
4. NewJeans - New Jeans
5. IVE - Baddie
6. LE SSERAFIM - Eve, Psyche & The Bluebeard’s wife
7. aespa - Spicy
8. Taeyeon - To. X
9. LE SSERAFIM - Unforgiven
10. ITZY - None of My Business

You Will Miss it When it's Gone - 2022 Reflections

Starting off 2022 with the intention of doing some hard-nosed austerity went straight out the window. Only a few weeks into the new year, I lucked into the elusive PlayStation 5 console being in stock at Best Buy. This set off a chain reaction that led me to spend about $3,000 all in. That’s how I started 2022: with a bang to the wallet.

The PS5 itself is only $500 (before taxes, obviously), but I needed a television to go along with it. My Apple Pro Display XDR – my most spendy piece of kit from 2021 – cannot accept an HDMI connection. I moved into my studio apartment back in November of 2020, and I’ve yet to buy a TV for the place. It’s not something I really needed: everything I care to watch is on the Internet. The MacBook Pro paired with an external display works superbly for enjoying entertainment.

The PlayStation 5 absolutely required a TV. I literally do not have room for another monitor on my desk. As is my wont to not skimp on anything I buy, I bought a 65-inch LG OLED TV to pair with the PS5. It’s a gorgeous display, so much so that I’ve transition quite a bit of online video viewing to the far larger screen. The quality doesn’t come cheap, of course: the LG TV came in at nearly $2,000.

But then I needed a TV stand to place the TV, wanting to avoid drilling into the wall for a wall mount. Kind of crazy how an opportunity to buy the PS5 snowballed itself into an exponentially larger expense. The funny thing is, the Sony console remains super difficult to buy anywhere at the end of 2022! I guess I’m fortunate, pain to the wallet notwithstanding.

The spending floodgate did not abate. I bought a small dining table and stool setup to (finally) finish furnishing my place. I dropped $450 on a set of bookshelf speakers to compliment the MacBook Pro workstation. Gone is relying on a finicky HomePod Mini for sound. The biggest expense in 2022 next to the LG TV is the $1,200 I spent on a new mattress. I could be forgiven for that largess: I’ve had my previous mattress since I was in grade school. For mainly sanitary reasons, it was time to move on.

I cannot pretend that austerity will finally happen in 2023. What I am aiming for is to achieve some semblance of longevity with the things I buy. I very much believe in the adage of buying the best and keeping it a long time. Admittedly I’ve struggled to do so in certain areas. Despite buying some high-quality cars over the year, the longest I’ve managed to keep any one of them is three years. I’m onto the third year of ownership with my BMW M2 Competition, and the goal is absolutely to keep it as long as possible.

There’s also the iPhone, which I’ve replaced every year with the latest version ever since I made enough money to afford my own smartphone. I see that as a necessary expense. My iPhone is the single highest usage of anything I own. It is well worth the price to have the latest and greatest, especially when it comes to my photography vis a vis the advancements to the camera system year over year.

Other than the smartphone, I vow to keep and use the things I have for a very long time. In 2022 I did not upgrade my MacBook Pro – after having done so the previous three years! I like shiny new things as much as the next person, but I really try hard to accept and appreciate the items that I already have. You’ve no idea how many times I have to walk back from the checkout cart on a yet another mechanical keyboard. I keep reminding myself the one I have is just fine.

One area I won’t hesitate to spend money on is creating a homely and stress-free environment. Moving to within a 10-minute walk from work is probably the best thing to emerge out of the pandemic (still ongoing?). Especially so in 2022 when I returned to onsite five full days a week. The freedom of being so close to everything I need is immeasurably more valuable than the rent I am paying.

The neighborhood I’m in now is quieter, greener, and safer than my previous location. It eliminates a huge amount of latent stress that permeates from living in an area of constant loud noises and the fun game of is it fireworks or gunshots? I didn’t realize how much my environment was contributing to my stress and anxiety levels until I moved out of my parent’s place. It was definitely worth selling my beloved 911 GT3 in order to do so. I miss that car every day, but I’m a far healthier person whilst doing so.

Environment includes inside the home as well. The purchase of the TV, PS5, dining table and chair rounds out the furnishing. Money well spent to create a cozy place that I want to spend massive amounts of time in. It’s incredibly relaxing to come home to such a lovely environment. The return on investment here, again, is immeasurable.

You should also spend money on getting rid of the little annoyances in your life. Because those small niggles can add up to big stresses over time. One of the best things I bought this year is rollerblade wheels for my Herman Miller Aeron chair. The quality-of-life increase is tremendous. The chair now rolls effortlessly and quietly. The non-stick surface of my rice cooker’s inner pan was peeling. I replaced it with a new unit immediately, instead of living with scraping vigorously the stuck-on rice after every use.

Some of the little annoyances don’t even cost money to fix. I had this drawer that was not closing as smoothly as it should be. Instead of letting it linger, I took the whole drawer out and checked all the fasteners, some of which were indeed loose. Quick and easy, and I didn’t have to look at the same fault every time afterwards. Out of mind.

As a chronic procrastinator, it’s always been a challenge for me to do things at the appropriate time. So long as I always meet the deadline, it’s no big deal to delay a bit in the meantime. Then I heard on an episode of the Modern Wisdom podcast something profound: there’s a so-called anxiety cost to putting off the things you know you’re supposed to be doing (also known as, procrastination). Until you’ve actually finished the task, it will always be at the back of your mind gnawing at you.

Indeed, I do feel shittier on the days I leave my morning writing to the evening - at least until the work is finally done. This is why I am writing this year-end blog post on the 30th, instead of the 31st. Firstly, that would be cutting it too close. More importantly, the anxiety of having to write this piece would be latent in the back of my mind. I cannot completely relax into whatever I am doing until it is done.

The same applies to stuff at work. Sometimes it’s easy to punt tickets onto next week. But come Sunday evening, that punted ticket would pile onto the dread of the forthcoming Monday. And on Monday, I would be kicking myself: why didn’t I take care of this last week? I think this is a good mental model to follow: don’t let the future you be upset at the current you.

It’s probably an obvious thing to say, but it’s so much better for my mental health to do the stuff that needs to get done expediently.

As I head into the latter part of my 30s, I’m all about eliminating needless anxiety and stress. Some of that is good; otherwise we’d be just living life like zombies. What’s important then is to do the work first, then reward yourself afterwards. On an episode of the Huberman Lab podcast, Dr. Huberman prescribe that we should delay the dopamine hits to after we’ve done the day’s work. Put all the YouTube watching and Twitter scrolling toward the end of the day. The things that need doing comes first.

Sort of a variation on the classic marshmallow test. Probably shouldn’t require a podcast to remind me of something I should have retained from my Asian upbringing (if you know, you know) but nevertheless, the shift to anti-procrastination has had a wonderful affect to my well-being in 2022. I have far less unfinished tasks constantly hanging over me throughout the day like a sword of Damocles.

For me, the best afterwards reward for a solid day’s work is always dinner. Taking my time to eat a slow dinner every day is a non-negotiable joy. Whether it’s with my lonesome, or with a bunch of friends.

After dinner gets slightly tricky. We’ve all done this, surely: launch the streaming app of your choice, and then down the scrolling rabbit hole you go. The indecision on what to watch can be paralyzing, and honestly a huge waste of time. This problem extrapolates out onto the weekend, where presumably you have some significant hours of free time. What should I do? When there are so many options out there, it’s rather easy to get sucked into ruminating on exactly which thing to choose.

As much as possible I try to ere on the side of action. It doesn’t have to be perfect: just pick something quickly and do it! (I’m not talking about scrolling twitter endlessly, either.) Having a few important core activities makes it easier to pick. For me, those are: book reading, study Korean, learning the piano, and playing video games. Whenever I am stuck on what to do, I can immediately jump into any of those four activities. In the aforementioned YouTube rabbit hole, if I’m stuck for something to watch, I would pick Korean-language videos.

Not to say I don’t enjoy a bit of doing absolutely nothing. One of the discovered joys of this year is staring out my room window in the morning with a cup of coffee in hand, and music playing in the background. I would simply zone out and think of whatever that comes to mind. After that, I would write on this blog. That’s my kind of morning routine, one I wish to do forever, day after day.

I hope to achieve as long a forever as possible – human span permitting - by continuing to eat well, sleep consistently, and exercise regularly. In 2022 I returned to intermittent fasting: 16 hours of fasting with an 8-hour feeding window. This basically means I skip breakfast. No more oatmeal with two eggs, no more McDonalds on weekend mornings. I simply don’t like to eat that early in the morning. Whatever benefits I get from intermittent fasting is but a bonus to the labor saved in preparing one less meal a day.

As for sleep, this year I solved a somewhat chronic problem of mine: actually falling asleep. We’ve all been there: tossing, turning, switching position, but sleep can’t seem to arrive. Fretting over the fact you can’t seem to fall asleep compounds the problem into a negative feedback death spiral. I already go to sleep and wake at the same time, no matter the day of the week, so that’s not where the solution is.

Instead, my solution is quite simple: spend more time in the bed. For the goal of sleeping a solid eight hours, I actually go to bed about half an hour earlier, for a total in-bed time of eight and a half. That way, I never get stressed about not falling asleep quickly – there’s a buffer built in. This avoids the negative loop of worrying about not getting the proper amount of sleep. I shall fall asleep whenever, and it will be okay the next morning.

As for exercising, I’ve incorporated rucking into my routine. Michael Easter, author of the book The Comfort Crisis, introduced me to the idea. Basically, I bought a backpack with a 30-pound iron weight inside. I would then wear this on my walk to and from work. 20 minutes per day of moderate exercise. It’s supposed to emulate soldiers carrying tens of pounds of equipment in their packs and walking many miles. More intense than walking, but less impact than running. Given a heavy enough pack and distance, rucking can be quite intense of an exercise.

I saw it as an easy and effective way to add an exercise element to something I have to do every day: walking to work.

Eat well, sleep right, and exercise. The prescription is basic and effective, though I am reminded this year that it’s not a solution that everyone can follow. Everyone should be able to follow it, but circumstances may prevent them, at least in the interim. Sometimes people are so down the depression hole that it can be difficult for them to simply get out the bed. Telling them to get more sleep and go workout is inconsiderate at best, insulting at worse.

I never thought I would have two close friends who are currently on antidepressants. I’m not saying this because of the supposed stigma with pills, or that I think the two friends are somehow failures by going on them (far from it). People give an outside appearance of being well-adjusted and highly functioning, so it’s a surprise to find out they are in therapy and on pills. From an egoic standpoint I had the impression that all my friends are thriving and happy. If we are indeed the sum of the people we surround ourselves with, what does the two friends’ predicament say about me?

I’ve certainly been depressed before. I read my way out of it, with many philosophical and self-help books. I guess my baseline was not low enough to require medical assistance, though talking things over with a therapist would no doubt have helped. The anxiety and depression is so bad for my two friends that they need pills to function normally, to feel like they’re not drowning. I am glad they are getting the help they need. I hope with therapy and the antidepressants, they will then be able to fix the underlying issues causing the problem.

Only after that can proper diet, good sleep, and frequent exercise enter into the chat.

One thing I realized this year is how incredibly close and tight knit our friend group is. The support we give each other is amazing. If you need help, someone is there to give it. Moving to a new place? We’ve got your labor covered. Need someone to watch the kids while you go to a wedding? We got your back. The local DMV’s card reader failed suddenly? A friend will bring cash while you are still in line. That last one is me, by the way: I was the one stuck in line without any cash.

Some of us also got into the habit of meeting up for lunch every Friday. A happy bookend to the workweek before the weekend fun commences. We are lucky to have jobs that allow for such frivolousness – leaving for up to two hours for lunch. On the flip side, the morale boost we get from connecting with each other more than offset any supposed loss in productive hours. I think my supervisor sees the value of me skipping out in the middle of every Friday.

The vaunted work-life balance that people want, a huge component to that is being able to spend time with your friends and family. And a huge component to that is being generous of yourself. Give your time and money freely to the people important to you. Whatever you’re currently focused on is almost always less important. Even for me, someone who is known to keep a rigid schedule, have learned to drop everything and be there for friends when called upon.

And it doesn’t have to be an emergency. One of the best nights this year was getting ice cream with my friend and another friend’s dog during a particularly hot evening. My piano practice could wait another day. Doing stuff with the people you love breaks up the monotony of life. That rock will still be there the next day for you to push up the hill, Sisyphus.

Because you will miss it when it’s gone. It’s easy to think this is all static, and everything we cherish today will still be here tomorrow. Of course, that is not the case. I’m acutely aware of this when I hang out with one of my friend’s young kids. I see them on a weekly basis, and it’s kind of amazing to see them change in front of my eyes. The quirks of last week may be gone this week, replaced with another one. Last week you could still kiss them goodbye, but this week the older one thinks that’s too yucky for a boy his age.

The lesson I take from that is to slow down and take notice. Get your head out of your smartphone and smell the proverbial flowers. Be quick to forgive people’s minor faults and embrace their quirks. What you think may be annoying today, you will definitely miss if it were gone tomorrow. My mother lost her mother (my grandmother, naturally) this year. From that I’ve learned to accept the relationship I have with my mother. I may not like her constant nagging, but I know for damn sure I’ll forever miss it when she is gone.

Hopefully not for a very long time.

Of the many books I read this year, the biggest impact on me is Robert Pirsig’s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. The book can be distilled down to one word: excellence. To live a life of excellence, in all domains, in everything you do. From the biggest thing down to the littlest detail. As important as a semester-long work project, or as simple as brushing your teeth. Perform it all with an eye towards excellence. You owe it to yourself to do the very best, and the outside world benefits from it as well.

I correlate excellence to a Japanese tea ceremony. On paper it’s seems an incredibly mundane task: making a cup of tea. The Japanese have ritualized and perfected it into an art form. Every detail matter, from how the cup is placed, to the folding of the napkin that wipes away the excess drip. I witness one such ceremony during the annual cherry blossom festival in Japantown, and the impact have stuck with me to this day.

I try to replicate that kid of dedication and ritualism in all areas of my life. For example: when I make my morning cup of Keurig coffee, I am in full concentration. I feel the lifting action of the lid, the placing of the cup, and the pressing of buttons. It’s a mechanism to keep me in the present and paying attention to it. I am not scrolling through stuff on my phone while the machine is running. Making coffee in it of itself is the point, and not merely a thing to get over with to get to the next task.

I wouldn’t call it Zen, but I am calmer, and it keeps me from speed-running through life. That’s what I like to carry forward to the new year, along with the other positive changes mentioned above.

2022 was kind of a serendipitous year: everything I needed sort of appeared at the right time. Like that time when I had to replace the windshield on my BMW M2. I was somewhat sulking about the unexpected monetary outlay, until a few days later when my boss informed me I’ve been put in for a raise. What are the odds? I don’t know how to explain it: many such good coincidences, big and small, occurred throughout the year.

Obviously I’m not counting on that luck to follow onto 2023. However, I do know what to do to make a year great. Focus on the few core things: spend time with friends and family, read many books, study Korean, practice piano, write on this website, sleep well, eat right, and exercise frequently. For the rest, I will just go with the flow and accept things as they come. I wish you all the very best.

Top 10 songs of 2022

1. NewJeans - Hype Boy
2. NewJeans - Attention
3. aespa - 도깨비불 (Illusion)
4. LE SSERAFIM - Blue Flame
5. STAYC - 색안경 (STEREOTYPE)
6. ITZY - Cheshire
7. Red Velvet - 롤러코스터 On A Ride
8. Jay Park - GANADARA (feat. IU)
9. Nayeon - POP!
10. Seulgi - Bad Boy, Sad Girl (feat. BE'O)

소중한 시간 (Precious times) - 2020 Reflections

Well, we made it! The very end of this crazy year.

First and foremost, I think it’s important to recognize that those of us that still have our jobs, a place to live, and our health intact: we are incredibly lucky indeed. The suffering of so many who have lost employment, and the unspeakable death toll here in America (one in 1,000 Americans have perished due to COVID-19) is a stark reminder of the utter privilege we have. The privilege of not only surviving through this year of the pandemic intact, but perhaps coming out ahead ever stronger.

How easily it could have turned out the other way. Be thankful, and give a hand to those in need.

So I’m not going to bemoan the fact all my travel plans in 2020 have been unceremoniously cancelled. I should be somewhere back home in China right now taking in the local sights. Instead, I am writing this at home in San Francisco, once again stuck inside of a lockdown situation. Many good plans have been forsaken this year, and we’ve all gotten immensely familiar with our homes, unable to go anywhere (shouldn’t, anyways).

And to think, I was right near the genesis of the coronavirus. Way back in January, I was in my hometown of Guangzhou as usual on vacation. News of the COVID-19 outbreak was already percolating out of Wuhan, though at the time it was only news in western media. The Chinese was still suppressing the information locally. The evening news in Guangzhou didn’t mention the bubbling crisis at all. If it weren’t for twitter, I wouldn’t have known about coronavirus until I’d taken the return flight in Hong Kong.

Never in my wildest predictions did I think that this viral incident from Wuhan would come to consume the entire globe. For a while, it seemed we would be okay here in America. We didn’t effectively lock down until the middle of March. Until then it was business as usual here in the States, even as we learned of devasting news coming out of Italy. Daily death tolls in the hundreds that seemed horrible at the time, but mundane compared to the now thousands that are dying in this country every single day.

Returning home from Guangzhou, I was more concentrated on picking up the pieces from a relatively dreadful 2019. I had a rather significant bout with anxiety towards the latter half of 2019. The annual trip back to China was suppose to the be a cleansing reboot of my personal operating system, coinciding nicely with the ringing in of a new year. The trip was successful for that purpose, and by the end of January I was on the mend, looking forward to a better 2020.

A realignment of the department at work (I am tech support at a university, for those who don’t know) threw a bit of wrench into that. It’s difficult to allay anxiety levels when such a major component of my everyday life is in so fluid a situation. Essentially, I got move to a brand-new role, and for the first time in nearly a decade I would be learning a completely new skill-set. Under normal circumstances this would be a tremendous opportunity for growth. However, the departmental realignment was so abrupt that there wasn’t enough time to assimilate myself to a new team. I was stuck in limbo, having to do some of my old responsibilities for the time being, while waiting for guidance on what’s ahead.

It would have had to wait until the Summer months to begin to sort everything out. Of course, COVID-19 abruptly entered the conversation in March. Americans joined the party as the coronavirus began to ravage our continent. New York City was the first hard-hit area, with hospitals running out of beds, and corpses needing refrigeration trucks to haul to the cemetery. It was only a matter of time before the spread comes to other parts of the country. Each region then had the choice: be proactive, or keep the proverbial head in the sand.

I am tremendously grateful the San Francisco Bay Area took charge and began shutting down well before COVID hit our area. Much kudos to the tech industry for telling its workers to stay home starting as early as February. Our university stopped in-person instruction on the 9th of March, a date I’ll remember for a long time to come. All classes were going remote, utilizing the piece of software we’ve come to know and begrudgingly love: Zoom.

The once bustling campus turned into a ghost town over the course of a week. San Francisco enacted a stay-at-home order soon after. The euphoria of getting to be at home and not have to physically go to work quickly turned into stress. I was still unfamiliar with in a new team, and now I’m thrusted – along with my colleagues – into this completely strange new instruction method. How to provide support remotely when none of us have really done it? How can I properly participate when I don’t yet know much of anything pertinent to the tasks?

For much of Spring, I would be supremely anxious each morning to open up the web portal to work. I was scared of my own incompetence, of not being able to contribute, and looking like a fool (hello, ego). What if someone asks me a question that I don’t have the slightest answer to? I got thrown into the deep end of the pool without yet learned how to properly swim.

Paradoxically, there’s no better time to rapidly learn and adapt. To make mistakes and the adjust as I go along. The situation caused by the coronavirus gave me permission to simply go and run with it. So what if I don’t know something? I’d do the best I can to find the information and then provide a solution for the customer. Being kind to others and wanting to help was my guiding principle in how I approached the work. It’s okay to make mistakes so long as the heart is in the right place.

It would be too easy to disappear under the cloak of remote work and leave the tasks to others, feigning an ignorance of knowledge. I’m glad I didn’t, because 2020 have been the biggest year of professional growth for a very long time. Sad that it took a global pandemic to make that happen.

I am incredibly lucky to have the shoulder of a giant to stand upon. A coworker of mine on the same team became a mentor of sorts and really helped me through this period. He patiently answers all my (what must sound to him) stupid questions with tremendous detail and clarity. I could not have been nearly as effective in remotely assisting faculty without his guidance and support. It’s a generosity that I hope to pay forward in the future.

Working from home is not without benefits, primarily the lack of commuting. Early in the year I was still taking the bus to and from work, and the nearly two hours lost each day was something I was looking to decrease dramatically. The long commute on public transport was a great contributor to my elevated anxiety levels last year. The stress of having to slog it back home in a crowded bus after a particularly tough day was huge, no matter how many informative podcasts I was able to consume along the way.

Driving would have easily cut the commute time in half, but there was a problem. In 2019 I took the “you only live once” mantra to the extreme and bought a Porsche 911 GT3. It’s a type of car that I was not comfortable with parking it on the streets in our working-class neighborhood. Therefore, the car was stored at the work garage instead, only taken out for drives on the weekends. To be able to drive to work, I’d have get a second car. A financially unfeasible ask, given the amount of money I was already paying to have the GT3 around.

The other solution was to (finally) move out of my parents’ place, to a spot of my own. Somewhere far closer to the work than the other side of the city. The ideal place would be somewhere close enough to be able to walk to work. But this option had the same problem: the bloody Porsche. If it was already monetarily unfeasible to get a second car, then moving out and renting would be nearly suicidal. I could have made it work, but at that point I would truly be “car poor”.

Even so, I had thoughts and plans of moving out in 2020. Bottom line: how much would you be willing to pay for less stress?

Obviously, COVID-19 kind of altered those plans. Working at home means no commute! I didn’t even have to get dressed. All things considered, not needing to physically go in to work decreased my stress levels quite dramatically. It was wonderful to reclaim those two hours of the day, to use as I please. I vowed to never commute by bus again. When the time comes and we are able to return to campus, I would either get a car to commute with, or move closer to campus.

Even though we are still in the midst of remote instruction and work, I’ve been physically going to campus on and off since the end of May. Some stuff you simply cannot do remotely, and I volunteered to go to campus when the time came to do that work. In the name of safety, I was being chauffeured on the days I needed to go to campus. It’s a burden that I loathed to heap upon my family. It did not sit well with me to ask my dad to come pick me up from work after a typically long and arduous day for him.

Per chance, this year a good friend of mine moved to a house that is only a 10-minute walk from campus. The house happens to have a studio unit available for rent. A perfect storm of compatibility – it’s easier to rent from a friend than a complete stranger – allowed me to move out on my own at the beginning of November. A wish fulfilled: no more slogging commute to and from work.

But I did not commit financial suicide to do it. A year of zero travel have reaffirmed my affinity and love for traveling. Adding rental cost on top of payments for the GT3 would prevent me from doing so comfortably in the future. The car had to go. As much as I don’t want to admit it, the enormous expense to purchase and run the Porsche was a huge albatross. I don’t regret buying the car, but it was time to move on. To support the move out of the house, I sold the 911 for something a bit for sensible to the wallet: a BMW M2 Competition.

The weight of the Porsche off my shoulders is really freeing, something I didn’t know would happen until I signed over the pink slip. Selling the GT3 would have been beneficial even if I had stayed living with my parents.

With the coronavirus very much still ongoing, perhaps it’s the wrong year to add the financial burden of renting. Indeed, it would have been more prudent to wait until the vaccine is properly disseminated and things return to normal. While I am fortunate to have kept my job throughout this pandemic, the future is not guaranteed. The smartest thing would be to stick it out at home for longer and build up the war-chest.

Ultimately though, the timing felt right in my gut to make the move. I turned 33 just some weeks ago, and it’s way pass due (by American standards) to start living on my own and take care of myself completely. The milk isn’t going to replenish itself when it gets low. My parents are also of that age where they’d rather sleep apart in separate beds. With me vacating my room, they can now do so comfortably.

Having move to a far quieter neighborhood further decreased my stress levels. Where we are located it’s practically a subdivision, so the amount of vehicle traffic is low. There’s also a distinct lack of noisy neighbors playing loud music into the night; I can sleep soundly without needing earplugs. As someone who loves silence and tranquility, moving to this new place is worth every single dollar.

Even a card-carrying introvert like me can say I was struggling with the constant stay-at-home order towards the end of Summer. By then the pandemic was assured to stretch on for the rest of 2020. I’d no idea how much I would miss sitting down at a restaurant and breaking bread with friends. The movie-going experience is completely gone. I couldn’t go out on drives with fellow enthusiasts because who wants to be the jackass in the Porsche screaming up and down a mountain road? Even visiting friends carries a calculated risk, one that we seldom took.

I’m used to and love the introverted, homebody lifestyle. I just very much want the rest of you to go back to your regular, extroverted life. One that I can sometimes participate in when I so choose. Like the BTS concert that was supposed to happen in May.

To keep some modicum of social engagement, our group of friends had weekly virtual Zoom meetings. We’d talk about how things are going (same), and then play some online multiplayer games. During the Summer when the cases went down and places began to open back up, we stopped meeting regularly. Sadly, things made a U-turn heading into Fall. Once lockdown 2.0 happened, we returned to our scheduled Zoom chats.

We even managed to have a socially-distanced Friendsgiving.

During other times, I have to say it wasn’t too difficult to keep sane during this pandemic. Long-standing habits I’ve had since way before COVID-19 continued on nonstop: write on the blog, read books, exercise, and study Korean. Aside from the periodic travel, my life pre-pandemic was fairly Groundhog Day-like already. I didn’t have time to stew on the fact that we’re stuck in our homes due to a highly contagious virus with no end in sight. I had stuff to do, so I continued to do them. The lockdown simply provided more time.

I didn’t keep count, but I like to think I’ve read more books this year than in previous. I did quite a bit on Zen Buddhist philosophy, the study of which greatly helped with my struggles with anxiety. Alan Watt’s The Wisdom of Insecurity: A Message for an Age of Anxiety, Michael Singer’s The Untethered Soul, D.T. Suzuki’s An Introduction to Zen Buddhism, and Paramhansa Yogananda’s Autobiography of a Yogi are some of the highlights.

Overall, I have to say it’s been a great year, personally speaking. I found solid footing at work, and had tremendous growth in skill. I finally moved out of my parents’, beginning a new stage of adulthood. In selling the 911 GT3, I got rid of a stressful money pit. Combined with saving up diligently during much of the year (couldn’t spend it on travel/going out), I’m once again back on good financial standing.

A combination of those things, plus the continued study of philosophy, I was able to lower my anxiety and achieve mental equilibrium.

Did I mention our family got a pet kitten? What a bundle of joy he is.

More importantly, my family and immediate circle of friends remain healthy and gainfully employed. In a year as turbulent as 2020, that’s is all that we can ask for. For so many, this has been the worse year imaginable. Empathetic as I am, their situation is out of my control. I will continue to work on myself, be better and improve day by day. I will help others whenever possible, in whatever capacity.

My only great hope heading towards 2021 is for the world to get back to normal as soon as possible. And that those who have lost plenty will be able to regain what’s been missed.

The wisdom I take from 2020 is this: the time we have is precious.

Top 10 songs of 2020

1. Shaun - Way Back Home
2. Twice - More & More
3. H.I.N.P (Hot Issue of Ntl. Producers) - Rumor
4. Changmo - Meteor
5. ITZY - Not Shy
6. IZ*ONE - 환상동화 (Secret Story of the Swan)
7. 방탄소년단 (BTS) - ON
8. Red Velvet - IRENE & SEULGI - 놀이 (Naughty) (Demicat Remix)
9. Zico - 아무노래 (Any song)
10. 여자친구 (GFRIEND) - MAGO

Making Haste Slowly - 2019 Reflections

Honestly, I struggled to think of what to write about for this year’s year-end reflection piece. My 2019 from a certain perspective can be viewed as typically good: work is going well, I got to travel a bit as usual, and personal relationships are stable as ever. I even bought a car, after a one-year hiatus of going without a vehicle. Based on those things I can certainly write the standard start-to-finish expository piece, telling you how awesome everything is chronologically, and then put down some more awesome things to look forward to in 2020.

And that would’ve sufficed okay, because from a macro view, 2019 was a good year. However, beneath the varnish and veneer of showing people only the best side of us, this year can also be viewed as one of the more confounding and tumultuous years I’ve had in quite some time. In complete truth, my feelings towards 2019 run the gamut of joy and misery, with lots of self-reflection and soul-searching.

I do grant that relative to many others, there’s really nothing to complain about; but this game of life is unique to each individual, and the problems we face aren’t diminished just because others have got it worse. Detaching to the look at the bigger picture is a tool to deal with our problems, rather than be used a cudgel to bludgeon us to “get over it”.

And I think it would be disingenuous to simply give the circumstances of the year 2019 a happy spin. It’d certainly make writing this far easier, but for the sake of posterity and learning from my faults and pitfalls, I shall allow myself to confront once again the troubles I’ve had in 2019 and spell them out for you here. They stem from three crucial moments this year, and it’s around these three incidents this 2019’s year-end reflection post will be centered on.

The first, is my Porsche 911 GT3.

In many ways, it was very premature to buy the 911 back in January. Coming back from my annual winter trip home to China, the aura of making a big change for a new year sort of took hold of me; few things would come close to as big of a move as spending six-figures on a sports car I’d only drive on the weekends. It completely altered my financial situation, especially coming off of not owning a car at all for a year. Suddenly, it’s not just car payments making a return, but ancillaries too, like insurance and fuel costs. There were definitely times where I thought I might have bitten more off than I can comfortably chew.

To be sure, the plan was always to buy the 911, and heading into the close of 2018, the financial side of the equation, in terms of saving up for the hefty down payment (half), has come to completion. In that sense I was ready to pull the trigger at any time, and as is the wont of car enthusiasts, I was not keen to wait any longer than necessary. From the time I returned from China to the moment I signed the papers for my Sapphire Blue Metallic GT3, it took but one week. I was of the mind to get it over with as quickly as possible, and as chance would have it, a reasonable example was for sale over at Porsche Fremont.

By mid-January, I was the owner of my dream car: a 2015 Porsche 911 GT3. A decision that utterly changed the trajectory of 2019 in ways I did not expect.

It didn’t take long for me to ascertain an innate understanding of the mantra that material things don’t bring you any more happiness, and chasing after them for that specific purpose is as pyrrhic as it gets. I wish it didn’t take writing the largest check I’ve ever written to achieve that clarity, but perhaps the same lesson wouldn’t have been there had I instead dropped $50,000 on a BMW M2. Immediately post purchasing the GT3 I was not overwhelmed with joy or even a sense of satisfaction; rather, the sensation I got was immense anxiety.

Anxiety that comes with car ownership: the related chores like parking and maintenance that are now back in my life after a blissful year of not having to deal with any of it. Worse, the stress is amplified by magnitudes because of how expensive the GT3 is. For sure, it’s not something I thought a lot about during the process of saving up to buy the car, and indeed that’s a gross miscalculation when the car in question is priced into the hundred thousands.

Compounding the stress is the unconventional route I took to buying the 911, one that’s largely backwards from the usual 911 owner. Primarily, I lack a house with a garage, and cars in the class of a GT3 aren’t ones you’d leave parked on the street, especially when said streets are in San Francisco. While most owners have a nicely secured place to store their 911, mine is parked at work some seven miles away from where I live. It’s a covered lot away from the elements, but to have your pride and joy be that far away and semi out in the open, it can increase anxiety levels no matter how much mind detachment exercises I do.

Nevertheless, I had to quickly become okay with the situation, and that was the hope going in anyways that I would be able to handle the arrangement, because otherwise I wouldn’t have bought the car. I wasn’t going to spend an additional $300 – the going rate of a private garage for rent in San Francisco – simply to have that extra peace of mind and proximity. Instead, I had to accept the situation, and let go what I absolutely cannot control – the risk of someone – or acts of god - messing with the 911. I put my full trust onto the fact that if anything were to happen, that is precisely what auto insurance is for.

By providence and extreme good fortune, the GT3 hasn’t incurred as much as an errant nick this whole year while parked, and for that I am extremely thankful, and currently knocking vigorously on actual wood.

After the anxiety of potential damage to the car subsided, then comes the difficulty in accessing the car just to go out for a drive. It can either take 15 minutes if the family car is available to borrow, or up to an hour if it isn’t and I had to take public transport. Naturally, during the earlier months when the excitement of the GT3 was still fresh and simmering, I’d no problem doing the long schlep to get to the car. Once the newness wore off, however, it became an utter chore, which is quite an insane thing to say given it’s my dream car and whatnot – I should be chomping at the bits to drive it each and every time, but that’s how it goes once you settled back down from the highs.

It was often times annoying and stressful to have the car be that far away. A ‘first world problems’ kind of complaint, perhaps, but it’s the truth.

Ultimately, it’s the relatively vast financial commitment that I’ve made to the 911 that’s caused me the greatest amount of anxiety, and the genesis to the question whether it was premature to buy back in January. Not to say I couldn’t comfortably afford the car – this isn’t a robbing Peter to pay Paul situation, but the fact is the monetary outlay to purchase and keep the GT3 is equivalent to renting a studio apartment in San Francisco every month, and as with renting a place, the initial acquisition cost for the car took up the entire amount of savings I was comfortable to part with. To go from a place of security in having many 10s of thousands saved up to instantly vanishing it into a material object was superbly jarring, more so than I had anticipated.

I absolutely love cars, and I don’t ever regret spending money on any of it, but to make such a significant jump to another price category without the sort of income typical to the usual purchasers of such cars was a paradigm that took me much of 2019 to get used to. Sometimes the GT3 does feel like an albatross of sorts, that I’m betraying my values of growing up in a family that had to scraped by from paycheck to paycheck. The six-figure commitment took away any flexibility I had to make financial moves in the next few years, and dealing with that reality was often times quite hard.

It didn’t help that everything else that goes into supporting the 911 is dramatically more expensive than most cars, so it was tremendously difficult to get back to a savings equilibrium where I feel mentally comfortable and whole again. Two of the three crucial moments of 2019 that I will expand upon later made the problem worse, and effectively I was chasing my tail for much of the year, filling a hole that’s seemingly bottomless.

There are many positives to owning the 911, obviously, and indeed those outweigh the combined negatives of what I’ve written about. The GT3 truly is the best sports car for the money (fight me, Miata fans), and the sublime of wringing out the engine to its 9,000 RPM redline is enough to make all the stress and anxiety disappear into the background. I’ve kept a diary about the joys of ownership here on this website, and I can honestly say it’s my proudest creative work I’ve done in 2019. Please go there for many words and pretty pictures, and a far rosier frame of the 911 experience than the pages here.

The second big moment of 2019 that had a profound effect on me is traveling to Japan in July. It’s somewhat hilarious that it was a trip that I wasn’t even all that excited to go on; perhaps I’ve become jaded to traveling abroad after doing so much of it the past few years, but I think the key reason to my lack of anticipation for the Japan trip relates back to the 911. After sinking a huge chunk of money to procure the car, it was definitely not the best decision to spend another few thousand dollars only a few months later. Just as I recovered somewhat from the gaping financial hole that I purposely gave myself, out goes the last modicum of savings yet again.

The promise to go to Japan was made before I bought the GT3, so it would be unfair and selfish to renege on it. Good thing then, because as it turns out, the time in Japan was some of the most wonderful ever while traveling abroad.

You can read all about why in the five-part photo stories series I wrote. I was so enamored with the trip that for once I actually felt compelled to spend the numerous hours putting the many thoughts and scenes together as a memory to relive. To make a long story short, I discovered a near perfect affinity for Japan: the country’s culture and customs fit so well with my own introverted nature that I instantly felt at home. I greatly admire the Japanese people’s passion and dedication to practically anything, from the most mundane and boring to the most exquisite and complex. Particularly for my car enthusiast leanings, Japan is practically heaven.

I’d thought South Korea was the best sort of home away home for me culturally, that if I ever had to emigrate anywhere, somewhere around Seoul would be the top destination. After the Japan trip, that spot has changed. Again, it’s funny that before going I was decidedly not excited about traveling there.

So there was considerable sadness when I left and flew back home, made worse by the third major moment of 2019 that I’ll talk about soon. Before Japan, I never got the sort of post-vacation sadness or depression that some people do, and I never could empathize with those feelings. After coming back, however, I got to experience it for the very first time, and the effects of the post-travel depression lingered on for way longer than I’d expected or wanted.

Ever felt like a stranger in your own home city? Well, that was what it felt like for a certain period after returning from Japan. I had so completely fallen for the way of living in Japan – however surface and superficial one-and-half weeks’ worth of vacation time can provide and prove – that I almost hated here in San Francisco. It didn’t take much to trigger those thoughts: on the first day back to work, the morning bus was late by many minutes, which was a super stark contrast to the always-on-time (or someone is going to have to commit hara-kiri) public transportation system in Japan. Why can’t we have nice things here in States?

Rightly or wrongly, I started to compare things here in San Francisco with those in Japan, and it always led to frustration. Take for one example the amount of property crime and theft here in the Bay Area: you nearly can’t go a day without a Citizen app alert saying there’s been a strong-arm robbery somewhere, or reading someone on twitter saying his parked car has been broken into for the nth time. Compared that to Japan where I felt fully comfortable and safe leaving my camera bag exposed in the back seat of our rental car while it’s parked, and how you can walk around anywhere at any time of the day without fear of robbery.

The more I thought about the contrast between here and Japan, the more stressed I got. I was depressed that there was nothing I can do to change the situation, and it was a matter of becoming okay with living in San Francisco again, and relearning to love it, warts and all. That took a while, slowed significantly by the events that transpired immediately after my return to the States, the third crucial moment of 2019.

Thanks to my Chase credit card, I’m a member of Global Entry, so coming back into the States through immigration is usually a scan and on your way affair. In returning back from Japan into LAX, however, I got flagged for secondary search. Initially I didn’t have a problem with this, thinking that it’s probably a random routine search, and I always comply with the regulations of bring things into the country. However, during the questioning, the agents started asking pointed questions about my itinerary and what I did for a living, drilling down to what I felt was way more detail than necessary. At one point an agent even got frustrated with me because I couldn’t come up with my phone’s unlock code fast enough.

Something was amiss, because it felt like I was being treated like a suspected criminal, rather than a routine search to make sure people with Global Entry aren’t sneaking in contraband. Of course, the agents found nothing on me, and after 30 minutes of grilling I was on my way to my connect flight back to San Francisco.

Four days later, Federal agents served a search warrant on our family home.

I never thought I would get to tick the bucket list box of experiencing being held at multiple gunpoint and then be handcuffed, while I was still in my sleeping t-shirt and underwear. Thanks to having been and being acquainted with members of law enforcement, I knew exactly what do in that situation, and tried to be as calm as possible. It’s my dad who I felt sorry and worry for, him being the person who was actually awake at that ungodly early hour and had to witness the Feds knocking down the front door, DEA style.

It’s not a type of trauma you recover from quickly.

After the initial shock, I was more amused that anything because I know for sure me and my parents have not done anything wrong – I’ve never got so much as a speeding ticket. Without going into much detail, it turns out my younger brother did something shady involving things on the Internet that the CBP was investigating, and since we live under one roof, and the Comcast Internet account is under my name, that’s likely the reason why my profile was flagged and I received the intensive secondary questioning coming back into the country from Japan.

The Feds took away all related electronics, which unfortunately included my computer, tablet, and phone, because what I have largely mirrored what my brother has, and for sake of thoroughness they wanted to go through my things to make sure everything is good and kosher. I knew I’d be fine, but Federal investigations take a very long time, so it’ll be a long while before I’d have my things returned to me. A mere four days after coming back from Japan, I got stripped of every one of my electronic devices, through no fault of my own.

This isn’t a cruel judgement on my brother; that’s just the reality for me. I’m a bit of stickler for routine, and the Feds breaking down our door is about the biggest shock to the system I can imagine. Already in the beginning throes of post-Japan sadness, this particular episode’s timing was horrible.

So, I had to go out and spend another many thousands of dollars to buy a new laptop and a new phone, piecing back together as much normalcy as possible. Remember I wrote earlier about the filling a seemingly bottomless hole after buying the GT3? The Japan trip was a jab against it; this thing with my brother and the Feds was nearly the knock-out punch. I went completely into austerity mode, shaving down any unnecessary spending, which meant driving the car less (fuel costs are hefty when the best you can manage is 17 miles to the gallon). That presented double-edge sword, as the act of driving is highly meditative for me, and doing less of it in the latter half of the year meant it exacerbated the existing issues I was facing.

Most acute of which was the hanging specter over my brother: his case with the CBP. While his infraction was small compared to the criminal empire that was under investigation, he did break the law, and the consequences are real, if the Feds choose to press charges. It was a huge cloud of uncertainty looming over my family, and try as you might to ignore it and go about daily life normally, it was tacitly understood that there is no relief until the investigation is over and a decision is rendered.

Adding to the difficulty was the revelation that my brother had been suicidal for a few years now, ever since he moved away to Santa Cruz for college two years ago. It was another layer to grapple with for the rest of us, dealing with not only how my brother got mentality distraught enough to want to end it all, but what roles did we each play in contributing to that crisis. Coming to grips with that was tough, and it heighten the stakes of the investigation. If the decision turns against my brother, jail-time might be the least our problems. Recovery for my brother would be lengthy process.

For much of the second half of 2019, I had to deal with that aftermath, on top of my own issues with post-travel depression and the weight of owning the GT3. It was certainly rough at times, stressed and anxious about impending bad news as I went through the motions of daily life. It’s a terrible way to live, being in fear that the next phone call or knock on the door is the one to forever change our lives permanently. The strongest one is for sure my brother, to be able to string together some semblance of regular life under such crazy pressures, able to find a job after undergrad, and seeing therapist regularly.

In any good story, there’s got to be hope and resolution at the end, and here at the conclusion of 2019, I shall provide some positivity to this otherwise stark year-end reflection.

Two weeks ago, as of this writing, CBP returned the confiscated passport to my brother, and I got my entire haul of electronics back (great, now I have two phones). While they can’t say for sure since the overall investigation remains ongoing, it appears my brother will not be charged, given the entirety of the circumstances. Needless to say, it was a massive sigh of relief, especially for my brother, who almost broke down upon hearing the news.

As for me, I’m obviously overjoyed for him, and on a personal level, getting my stuff back was a much-needed puzzle piece to get myself back to an equilibrium. It was a total trip turning the iMac on and seeing everything in pseudo suspended animation, with everything frozen in the time to that Thursday in July. The return of my things coincided perfectly with me finally shaking off the haze I was trapped in since coming back from Japan, and also coming to satisfactory terms with owning the 911.

In life, you make some big decisions, and in doing so there’s no turning back or taking a do-over. I would say buying a six-figure sports car would rank up there in that category, especially for me doing it the unconventional way: before making a great amount of money and buying a home. The trigger has been pulled, and I have to be okay with that decision and make the best of whatever associated outcomes there are, good or bad. There’s no use in lamenting inconvenient situations or the extra hassle that comes with my inability to store the car right next to where I live. Buying the 911 is the choice I made, one that I should have no regrets about, and the thing to do now is enjoy the process of ownership as much as possible in the coming years.

I’d like to caution once more that nothing material will ever make you happy or happier; it must come from within. The momentary high of achieving a goal or buying that dream car is infinitesimally fleeting, and sooner or later you return to your original baseline, necessitating a new chase to be “happy” again. Owning the 911 for sure doesn’t elevate my level of happiness: I’m still the same person who just so happen to have an expensive car. That’s it.

Not to say you shouldn’t keep striving for goals and achievement, but I think it has to be for different reasons, rather than hoping to be any happier once you’ve done it. I used to think having ‘passion’ for something was relatively useless: who needs passion when simple work ethic can carry you through anything? (Ah, must be my Chinese communist upbringing…) That may be true, though I’ve come to realize that passion is the only thing that will differentiate out what truly matters, and the key ingredient that provides meaning. Passion makes you want to continuing moving forward and making process, without the dangling carrot of money in front.

Passion is what induce people to quit their regular 9-to-5 for something new and risky, and willing to devote many hours towards that endeavor. Passion is what you’d do for free, for no applause or recognition, because it’s important to you, even if it’s just you and no one else. For example, this website is my passion, and that keeps me producing content for it on a regular basis. I don’t ever check the site’s analytics because I’d keep doing the exact same thing even if no one reads it.

Cars are obviously a huge passion for me: that’s why I religiously saved and then altered my entire financial situation with one signature to buy the Porsche. Because it’s important to me. Therefore, so what if I have to take a bus ride just to access the car? It’s part of the process.

I think the opposite of passion is attachment. When you’re attached to the outcome of something you’re doing or anxious about events turning out the way you want, there’s bound to be disappointment. As Master Yoda would say, that leads to suffering.

Going forward I think passion makes a solid litmus test to filter down things that matters to me. It’s a shift from wanting to consume and do everything and treating life as a checklist – that’s how it spirals into a never-ending, unsatisfactory hamster wheel. One of the silver linings from having my phone confiscated back in July was that I lost my lengthy queue of podcast episodes to consume (it was at least 50 deep). In starting over with the new phone, I purposely became very selective and picked only the episodes that are absolutely interesting to me. I wouldn’t hesitate to stop listening to one midway, and I also ceased the habit of listening at increased speed: the whole point is to learn and improve, not jamming it into my brain as fast, and as much, as possible.

It’s less stressful that way, too. There’s really no rushing the process; being passionate doesn’t make it go any quicker. One of the books I read this year that stuck with me the most is ‘Creative Selection’ by Ken Kocienda. The book chronicles Ken’s time at Apple writing code for the ground-breaking devices like the iPhone and iPad. The key revelation I took away from the book was that even at the level of genius computer coders, there’s no avoiding the tedium of work, of the slow and gradual process of hacking away at a problem until the eureka moment. Of course, the consumers only see the spectacular end results, and have no idea the laborious and long ordeal it took to get there.

The actual work of super smart people isn’t that different from what we do. Reading that book gave me confidence to continue doing the things I’m passionate about, that it’s important to keep going and keep iterating; changes and improvements are supposed to be irritatingly slow.

This philosophy is useful for dealing with life’s problems as well, and I couldn’t have endured through the three major moments of 2019 without drilling it completely down to the principle of putting one foot in front of the other. The next day may not be any different than the previous; you simply have to trust that eventually, things will get better.

Last year the motto was trusting the process; in the coming 2020, let’s make haste slowly, step by step. See you all on the other side.

Top 10 songs of 2019

1. ITZY – 달라달라 (DALLA DALLA)
2. 방탄소년단 (BTS) - 작은 것들을 위한 시 (Boy With Luv) (feat. Halsey)
3. TWICE – Fancy
4. Chung Ha - 벌써 12시 (Gotta Go)
5. Taeyeon – 사계 (Four Seasons)
6. 볼빨간 사춘기 (BOL4) – You(=I)
7. IU – Blueming
8. Jung Seung Hwan – 눈사람 (The Snowman)
9. Red Velvet – Sunny Side Up!
10. Hwasa – 멍청이(twit)