In his childhood room the day before the memorial, I found a heart-shaped notepaper that fell. It read, “My dear Chris, Mom miss you & love you. Be a good boy! Love, Mom 9/24/1991”

I met her only once for the first and last time. I can go into all the things she said to him after she met me and all the decisions that were made. But there’s little point to re-litigating what has happened and what could have been.

After I got over the initial traumatic experience during the first few weeks, I slowly started to sense all the love in the house. She created this place for him. For better or worse, she created tight boundaries to ensure as she stated in letters and the will, “a place for his good education.” You could also say that her criticism and high expectations were because she had such high hopes. It’s not disappointment, it’s just hope as stated just like in Joy Luck Club.

At the memorial service, I tried to make myself minimal, because it wasn’t my place. I didn’t know her. But she never knew how long we were together. She never knew that we were married. She didn’t even know what our hopes and dreams were. It could have been a fraught relationship just like many in laws are. I could have been more of a disappointment. I could have endured so many other things. But she is his mother. The one who made him who he is. And that’s the most that I could have wanted.

Like every extremely online person, I come across a social media post, especially from someone I don’t know and it made me think. Is it really my depleting estrogen that is leading me expressing more strict boundaries? Where I have no anxiety in expressing my boundaries. It’s their problem if they don’t like it.

I’ll respect you, but I don’t have to like it.

When I started college, I decided to completely reinvent myself. More than anything, I wanted friends so I decided to make myself more compatible for friendships. Or at least relatable. But along with this, I found myself walking the fine line of my personal principles. And of course, that spells trouble for me since I believed in being who I am while not having others infringe on my beliefs. It caused a lot of strife when I was younger leading to bitter breakups—romantic partners, friendships, or a disruption even with strangers.

With therapy/counseling, I learned that it was that I was allowing people to cross my boundaries. Although aside from victim-blaming, I didn’t build up a skill of expressing my boundaries. Until it was too late.

I am more expressive about what I want and need. Especially setting expectations. Maybe too transparently so—sometimes backfiring in my face. But didn’t I win? I stood up for myself. At least every day, I tell myself—it’s never worth it, it’s never worth it.

If they leave, it’s okay because I said what I said. It’s true. And it may be worse if I let things happen.

Previous years: 2023, 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, forgotten year in 2011, 2010, 2009, 2008, a forgotten year of 2007, 2006, 2005, 2004, 2003, 2002

What does it mean that I only update my blog for these annual rituals? But I suppose that I can’t help it. I really can’t move away from the things that I set for myself.

I also come to an age where I wonder if it’s okay to celebrate? But why not? Nobody says that I can’t. It’s my day and sometimes it seems like it matters more when we’re younger. But when we’re older, the many times we have done our birthdays, it becomes a blur. But I believe that it’s best to wish and hope.

1. That Chris finds his way out of the messiness
2. Fruit salad everyday!
3. Security and comfort in friendships
4. Finding ways to sleep well in uncomfortable environments (aka too warm or too noisy)
5. That I find someone in the industry to believe in my novel aka an agent or editor
6. Publish a short story or essay (though tbh I haven’t submitted any!
7. Clothes that make me younger—though irritated that IG has made me feel like I am dressing old
8. A poem that I can actually submit!

What makes a good year? Or a bad year? Is it just perspective? So yes, it certainly is perspective. But I also hav learned that sometimes it’s just exactly it is. You don’t apply judgement to it. I seek movement most of all in the year. But maybe I will discover that I have been moving all the time. During the pandemic, there was a general emphasis to focus on what matters in front of you. But sometimes that led to not doing much.

There was an era where I would schedule something every day. It felt exhausting. But then it meant movement. So move.

There were the years 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022.

So, let’s keep going.

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What was the best moment that could serve as proof that everything is going to be alright? And how will you incorporate that discovery into the year ahead?

In 2022, it was it was the moment that all my hopes for the year started happening. In 2021, it was all the small moments that validates that I’ll be fine even if it was a tiered rejection letter. In 2020, it was when a product leader called attention to the quality of my work. In 2019, it was when I left my job and when Chris comforted me that we are ok. In 2018, it was realizing my own qualities. In 2017, it was giving advice in hopes of inspiring others. In 2016, it was the moment that when immersed in the election aftermath that anything could change. In 2015, it was the moment when I realized that I could finish Ice Cream Travel Guide. In 2014, it was when I wrote a well-crafted piece (that I read to a live audience 11 months later). In 2013, it was when light shone in the face of despair. In 2012, it was when I stood up for myself. In 2011, it was a moment of clarity, sincere belief and friendship. In 2010, it was an action of commitment.

Some may or may not know that Chris has had a horrible year. In the way that information and trust could be used in malicious ways. Maybe I did devote a lot of my energy in making sure that he was okay.

I have found more than ever that my creativity and energy gets paused (or zapped) when I am worried. Especially worried about him. Imagine if I had kids. I think that would be worse?

But I guess the moment came later when I could see him really enjoying our hikes in Utah. Although there were definitely several times that I complained that he was running up ahead and not waiting for me, it felt like we were in the flow as we climbed Angels Landing. When we watched the GoPro footage later, he reflected that he was worried that I was going to give up and that I worried that I was holding him back. In truth, I was fighting against a desire to go faster because I certainly didn’t want to fall all the way down the cliffs. I wanted to be sure about my footing which meant that I was going slowly. And I knew that I could make it. It was just going to be slow.

I remember that he was willing to wait. I could tell that, although it may come off like mansplaining, that he enjoyed telling me where to place my hands and feet, what rocks could appear easiest, how to swing. In an earlier essay, I alluded to how he described running up ahead, ““I am the herald. I am Jack Bauer. I am just making sure it’s safe for you.”

He was. Clearing the way. Making sure that I was okay. He wasn’t impatient. It wasn’t that I was grateful for his patience. It was embarassing in a way that I was so cautious. But more that it gave up him purpose. For a few days, he could feel needed. Seeing the red rocks lit by a rising or setting sun (when we actually made it), finding footholds, and just being in nature (because mobile coverage was so poor!)

I liked touching the rocks, he said later.

Like a spider? I asked. Like being one with the rocks.

Yes, to all of that.

When it comes to aspirations, it’s not about ideas. It’s about making ideas happen. What’s your next step?

In 2010, it was about dream making. In 2011, it was about sticking to my boundaries. In 2012, it was about being true. In 2013, it was about embracing fear. In 2014, it was sitting my butt down and writing. In 2016, it was about leading. In 2017, it was about persistence. In 2018, it was about seeing the big picture. In 2019, it was about moving on (on my own terms). In 2020, it was about valuing the things (and people) I love. In 2021, it was about deciding the next thing. In 2022, it was about execution.

My next step is about building the life that I want. At least to the best of my ability. Clean out the cobwebs. Lay out the infrastructure. Interestingly, without great intention, I did that in 2021, which led to a good 2022. But then this past year, I hadn’t done that much in 2022 for 2023 so then I didn’t have it. So I need to build. I need to lay it all out because that means that I could reap the rewards later.

That means, more effort to put my novel in the world. The same with essays and short stories. The just enough effort into the job so that it doesn’t intrude in my other parts of life. And as always, explore the pleasures of living.

I need to read more books. I need to clean out the things that I don’t want or need. I need to pull out all the dust from the things in my head so that I can see them in clarity. I need to sweep.

Maybe that’s what it all is. Cleaning the space so that I can thrive in the best way possible.

Imagine you will completely lose your memory of 2022 in five minutes. Set an alarm for five minutes and capture the things you most want to remember about 2022.

2022 5 minutes, 2021 5 minutes, 2020 5 minutes, 2019 5 minutes, 2018 5 minutes, 2017 5 minutes, 2016 5 minutes, 2015 5 minutes, 2014 5 minutes, 2013 5 minutes, 2012 5 minutes, 2011 5 minutes, and 2010 5 minutes

Here we go! The one entry that’s easy, I think? Sometimes though, maybe recency bias?

• Going Utah and visiting the Mighty 5 (all national parks) and actually making it all the way through Angels Landing (am I afraid of heights? yes, but if I don’t look, then it doesn’t matter)
• Seeing my sister and her kid not once, not twice, but thrice this year
• Visiting Universal Studios for the first time since I was a kid and making it through Nintendo World, especially through single rider lines, Toadstool Cafe, and various things
• Losing Toad at SFO, getting the call that he was found (although really it was just the item as SFPD calls it) and retrieving him a week later
• Eating not-so-great food in Utah
• Doing the “hike” to the “superbloom” in that beachy beach place just south of Pacifica
• Hosting and organizing not one but two writing retreats with fellow writers—one north in Calistoga and the other in Point Arena
• Getting feedback for my novel which encouraged me to keep going even with all the doubt that I have for myself
• Several days when Chris went to Tahoe and left me behind, and me wondering could I survive? Of course, I did
• Baking regularly for Writing Accountability Group

Reading my piece about my childlike tendencies, pregnancy stuffs, and Ho-Oh at The Racket and being told that it was meaningful

• Walking with Jakobe throughout San Francisco while playing Pokemon Go
• Going to the old school Muni buses and light rail trains celebration day
• Going to the Winter Holiday (to try to buy the sweater) for BART
• Working in the government?
• Attending the Diane Feinstein memorial while navigating Secret Service and (barely) rubbing elbows with very important people

What was the last thing you made? What materials did you use? Is there something you want to make, but you need to clear some time for it?

In 2010, I made xmas photo. In 2011, I made metaphorical thingsthat were intentionally symbolic of relationships and history. In 2012, I made ice cream. In 2013, I made design. In 2014, I made “my room”. In 2015, I made the last line of Ice Cream Travel Guide, literally. In 2016, I made my annual holiday video. In 2017, I made another annual holiday video. In 2018, I made scones (from the Tartine cookbook)! In 2019, I made another holiday video! In 2020, I made some minor things (a chapter and writing prompts), but of course the biggest thing was the annual holiday video! In 2021, it was of course annual holiday video, which was built on little videos that I had made throughout the year. In 2022, it was again the holiday video.

Perhaps it’s always the timing of it. At least I don’t want to say the most significant that I last made was something that I did at work. Like writing an email to a participant. Like completing training (because obviously they’re due at the end of the year). Like writing up a document.

No, of course, it was the holiday video was sent late on Christmas because we had just arrived back from Utah. I had done a slightly similar version of the video on Thanksgiving gathering in responding to an uncle’s question last year during Thanksgiving, “Is living in San Francisco dangerous?”

I was angered by the question, suggesting that the city was a bad place to live. I sputtered at the time, because I knew what he was asking about all the shoplifting and the visible poverty. So as I have done in previous years, I created (along with Chris’ help) a video that played on the Instagram vs. reality. Which was reversed. It felt like a showy response of what we did in a year, but that was the intent for Thanksgiving.

For the annual holiday video, I added more substance and played into the viral trend of showing a mundane day in the life of. As usual, I used clips and photos from the year. I had fretted a lot over the music because when I had no music, it felt kind of dead. Initially, I did Sia’s California Dreamin’, but with our voiceover for Day in the life of…it didn’t seem to work. Chris suggested using a record scratch sound effect as a transition. And it worked. When we did the voiceover, we did it in cuts, because how could we describe everything accurately all in one take. Whenever I would mess up, I would just stop the recording and do the portion again. So easy, especially cutting it up in iMovie. There was no complexity like it was for the parody of doing Tik Tok a few years ago. Then I pulled everything together. Adjusted the sound for each audio and video clip. And done.

Making the 10 things we learned this year was somewhat hard. I brainstormed a list in a Google doc. But for Chris because it was a bad year, it just invited him to ruminate about all the bad stuff. So that took some time.

But then we sent it late evening on Christmas to over 75 people (bcc’ed) and boom done! Were people offended? I don’t know! I did have one clip of a protest. So!

Moment. Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail.

In 2022, it was the moment on Cathedral Rock where I passed other cowardly people, thinking that it wasn’t that bad! In 2021, it was all moments after I finished creating something like after the initial Weddin video. In 2020, it was the moment(s) when I was creating. In 2019, it was the moment that I realized that he was actually…alive and whole. In 2018, it was the moment that we realized that the car would start. In 2017, it was the moment (or moments) that I deeply connected with a group I had just met at a conference where I thought I would have been antisocial (or just horribly socially anxious). In 2016, it was the moment that I felt in the flow in telling the story of Ice Cream Travel Guide. In 2015, it was the moments after my hat was “stolen” in Rio. In 2014, it was a moment in a writing workshop that I had achieved greatness. In 2013, it was talking to Yasar Usta in Istanbul. In 2012, it was using the ocean as a “big toilet” while floating outside Palawan. In 2011, it was my birthday moment. In 2010, it was the success in Journey to the End to the Night.

Would it be recency bias if I mentioned the hikes that I did in Utah? Particularly like the moment in Angels Landing when I actually reached the peak? But that was only last week and because it hadn’t snowed/frozen over, I was less afraid. And also because I had already done Cathedral Rock in Sedona, there was a bit less fear. It was all about just trying and knowing that I’ll be slow at it. And the big difference was that I didn’t see anyone who was too cowardly to go on—or at least if they turned back, they did so quietly rather than an outward display like that woman who suddenly wouldn’t go any further on the slight incline.

No, I would say that the moment that made a difference for me was when I read my piece at The Racket when Lauren was hosting. I had never been invited to read until she did. It made me feel like my place in the writing mattered! I felt so pleased and awed by her invitation to read a piece where the theme was Birds. Initially, I fretted about it—I am not an animal person, so what animal could I choose? And animals don’t naturally show up in my writing. But then it came to me, it had to obviously be Pokemon.

I had written pieces already about how sometimes I falter into a child state. But more recently for me is the bigger topic of what it means to be a parent—did I want it?

Anyway, that one moment was when I read it. I was nervous about it, because I had only written the piece weeks earlier as I had attempted multiple treatments of it. I revised and revised and practiced and practices.

Dress for the occasion, Lauren had suggested. So I did thinking that my wedding dress and my orangey scarf plus the pink gloves and a pokeball could offer everything that I needed. The whole time I fretted until it was my turn, squirming in my seat on the bench. Jessica was there too, intrigued by my offer to attend a reading. So when it was my turn, Lauren introduced me reading a short intro that I wrote only earlier that week that even included lines from the Pokemon theme song. It was embarassing, but it made a stir in the audience. Then it was my turn.

I had overanalyzed the situation already, thinking about how to position the mic and paper, especially since it had multiple sheets. Do I hold the paper over the mic? Do I speak loudly? How far is the mic from my face?

Then I read, trying all the effort to maintain gaze and read slowly but surely. And the audience aahed and laughed at what I think was the right times. And then I looked up, my voice quivered even though I didn’t mean to as I talked about my loss. What did it mean when I lost something? What did it mean when I felt so mixed? What did all of it all mean? I worried about being judged and feeling like people wouldn’t see me the same.

But afterwards, people did come up to me and said that they loved my piece. And maybe that’s all that mattered.

Let Go. What (or whom) did you let go of this year? Why?

In 2010, it was a person. In 2011, it was an idea. In 2012, it was a symbol represented by a person. In 2013, I let go fear. In 2014, I let go of humility (or the desire to appear humble). In 2015, I let go of perfection. In 2016, I let go of expectations. In 2017, I let go of things and people I don’t need. In 2018, I let go of constant discovery. In 2019, I let go of expectations. In 2020, I let go of uncomfortable pants. In 2021, I let go of rejection. In 2022, I let go about feeling bad about rejection.

Rejections, disappointments, feeling bad. It’s still around. And as I reflect on this Christmas day (we just came back from Utah!), I can only think of one thing: I would like to say that I let go of being very upset when other people are upset.

Today, on the airplane, I sat in the middle seat next to a mother of two young children. The father was sitting between the two young children across the aisle. Who knows why she decide to sit apart from the children? Maybe it was because she wanted a break. But she didn’t get a break because I could tell that she was more vigilant than the father, constantly monitoring what the children were doing or not doing. Guiding them? But there’s something about parenthood where the young children’s emotions are meant to be seen just as they are.