Happy Spring! It’s time for flowers, and bunnies, and renewal of attitudes and outlooks. In celebration, this month, I am posing a few questions to myself. Why do I spend so much time thinking about things I don’t like? What would happen if I spent more time thinking about things I do like? What is so comforting about dwelling in feelings of unhappiness and envy and that thing where you see a picture of a friend on the beach and seethe with rage because you neither have paid time off nor money to travel? Sound like you? Even just a little? Let’s explore.

I saw this meme (I think it’s a meme—I don’t really know the definition of “meme”) and very much related to it. I can easily spend an hour fact checking a stranger’s stupid fucking tweet about how “George Soros is funding the migrant caravan” for the sole purpose of being outraged. I often find myself three years deep into a frenemy’s IG for the umpteenth time, reveling in the grammatical errors or problematic captions, before someone asks me what I’m doing and I put my phone away in shame. Sometimes I find myself plotting revenge against the kid that stole my gel pens in 5^thgrade and auctioned them off to the bullies in my class. All normal stuff, right? Except that none of these things are particularly happiness inducing. I asked myself, “does being unhappy really bring me joy?“ My answer was, “I think so.” Okay, follow up question: “What if joy can be sparked by pure joy?”

What even makes me happy? As I ponder the answer, the graphic in the bottom left of this journal page is telling me to “Do What I Love” and that’s both comforting and makes me feel like a hypocrite. What do I love, even? I guess I love fighting with bigots, debunking conservative talking points, and reporting Facebook trolls. Ok, bitch. But what do you reallylove?  What brings you joy without the anger? Without the resentment? Without having to click the “Report for racism, sexism, homophobia, etc…” button online?

I love walking on the beach path across from my house before 7am, right before the sun is coming up and when the air is cool.

I love doing edgework on ice, when I’ve paid $7 for the early bird public session, and the rink is completely empty.

I love drawing cathartic comics about anxiety and gender expression, with the local news playing softly in the background.

I love hiking in forests, where the trees are tall and the sun peeks through as I listen to the “We Bought a Zoo” soundtrack in my earbuds.

I love listening to the West Side Story OST (most notably “Dance at the Gym” and “Cool”) and pretending that I’m a Jet gal, dancing and fighting my way through the streets.

As I write this, it becomes easier to think of things to add to the list, and I already feel more open to joy and calmness. I feel lighter, happier. It’s amazing what a difference  even a gentle shift in mindset can make—how simply thinking about things that bring you bliss can change your attitude. So, just imagine what actually doing the things that make you happy can do. Boy, when I get my ass off this couch, it’s over for y’all.

Whether you feel content, or think you’re in the “the only thing that brings me pleasure is hating my enemies” camp, or even a little of both, I ask you to consider this: What does your list look like? What is your idea of happiness? And can you put yourself in those situations more often (and maybe layoff the twitter fights)?

 

 

 

2018 is gone, and 2019 is here to stay for the next 350 days! Looking back on how my year went, I have so much to be grateful for: connections I’ve made with you all, fests I’ve tabled at, work I’ve accomplished. However, when I reflect on my year, there are things I’d like to work on, as well. There are situations in which I need to put my foot down, but also situations in which I need to leap into with more confidence, and I think we could all benefit from a little of both.

Let’s be honest, I entertained quite a bit of bullshit this year, and I think many of us have.  I’ve let people with questionable morals remain in my life out of courtesy. I’ve cursed their racist tendencies in my head, and never confronting them because that’s not a “polite” thing to do. I’ve devoted far too much energy to seeing what the fuck they’re complaining about now (immigrants and the war on xmas, usually). Not this year. I’m cutting out the toxic people who do not feel that people of color have the same rights as those who shout “’murica” and donate money to a stupid fucking gofundme border wall (that’s totally a scam, btw. Look it up.). 2019 is the year of no talking to racists, no cordial “hellos” to nationalists, and no pretending like I think it’s okay to be a shitty person. I’m done. Rant over.

Now that that’s out of the way, I’ve also put myself through a lot of bullshit this year.

I’ve taken on a lot of hours at work when I physically could not function (I entered a dissociative state more times than I’d like to admit). I agreed to plenty of deadlines that put stress on my mind. And then I took on more hours of work because why the hell not? And because of all of this, I was mistakenly diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis because there was so much inflammation in my body. A few blood tests, many doctor’s appointments, and an MRI later, I found out that what was causing joint pain was the fact that my mind couldn’t stop racing and I wasn’t staying asleep at night. On the bright side, I figured this out before I aged out of my parents’ health insurance plan, ayyyyy.

So, um, this will have to change.

This year, I will not overwhelm myself by saying “yes” until I end up in fetal position, weighed down by the consequences of my bad decisions. I will have to say “no” to putting others first, like I’ve done for so long. I cannot put myself in harm’s way because I feel obligated to help. I do realize the benefits of lending a hand, but I need to put myself and my body first because if I don’t, I won’t be able to help at all. Because I’ll be dead. Or crying. Probably the latter. And, I think a lot of us are guilty of this—guilty of not caring enough for ourselves and having little to nothing to give to others because of this. But, it’s something that’s so necessary and can lead to us being even more present for our loved ones. Let’s put it this way: no one wants to be saved by a firefighter that’s pulled an all-nighter and is chugging a cold brew while working on an essay due at midnight, while they try to pull you out of a burning building. Especially if both you and said firefighter have the cheapest catastrophic insurance plans that cover literally nothing because neither of y’all can afford anything else. Let’s take care of ourselves this year.

Now, there is so much I have to be grateful for. I wrote scripts. I made zines. I was acknowledged for both. I saved money. I donated money to causes I care about. I spent money on things I wanted. I meditated. I felt like I had a purpose for the first time. I got a flu shot even though I was scared. I took walks when I wanted to run, but my body felt like it was eating itself. I ate good food.

I want to do more of this in 2019. I want to say “yes” to things that enrich my life. Yes to things that benefit my body and mind, even when that means I have to take a break. Yes to taking more deep breaths. Yes to sleep. Yes to friends. Yes to cats. Yes to tea. Yes to reading. Yes to talking to my spirit guides. Yes to happiness. Yes to joy. And yes to so much more. I think we can all try to do a li’l of this.

My zine fest season is officially done!!! Whew. I am so, so grateful to have gotten the opportunity to travel up and down the California coast this year.

When this whole thing started about a year and a half ago, this didn’t even seem like a possibility. At my very first fest, all I had was my li’l copies of Wallagalore, some business cards, and a whole lot of self doubt. Fast-forward to my last fest in Pomona, and I had six (?!) published works, an actual tablecloth, a candy dish, and the same self doubt!!! I have grown immensely as an illustrator, storyteller, and human. I have met tons of talented artists. I have explained to a white man why the fetishization of Asian women is wrong. I feel like I’ve done everything and nothing at the same time and it is all so exciting!

But before looking forward to next year, some thanks are in order.

Organizers/Volunteers

Everyone who puts on these events is amazing. Each fest I attended was so well organized and everyone was incredibly welcoming, even though things get hectic during check-in. In my entire life, I organized one event for 75 people, and wanted to curl up into a ball and cry, so I know this shit ain’t easy. Cheers to those who dedicate their time to organizing such large groups of weirdo artists!

Vendors

Meeting people is awkward. Being assigned a tablemate that you don’t know is awkward. People who make art are awkward. Put all of these things together, and you have a good idea of what zine fests are like. That’s just real, especially for me—an introvert that would rather check every room on every floor of a building before I ask someone where the bathroom is. But what’s also real is that I’ve made some fantastic connections as a vendor.

I started making things to express very specific things I was feeling, like having to eat a ketchup sandwich at age 23 because I couldn’t afford lunch. What I didn’t expect was that something so specific to my life would also ring true in other people’s lives. And what was even more unexpected is that I would… gulp… be able to talk to strangers about how weirdly similar our lives are. Am I still afraid of people? Yes. But do I now know that people at fests are good folks who make great art? Yes, definitely!

Supporters
My family and friends are my biggest fans, for real. If you’re reading this, and have come out to an event to hang out with me or bought something from me, you are officially the best. My friends have showed up at the farthest, most random fests I’ve tabled at. They’ve driven through the desert to get to Joshua Tree and risked getting stuck in a sand dune like half of the vendors did. They’ve found me in the middle of San Francisco, where I was surrounded by waaaay cool Bay Area creators, and one-hundred percent not expecting it to be freezing cold. They’ve been the first to order from me when I announce a new project. They’ve just been there.

My mom volunteers to buy me things I otherwise wouldn’t be able to afford, like a rolling cart (I was literally storing everything in an old cardboard box that was falling apart) and a folding table when I was freaking out about how to even get one.  She even showed up at a fest and bought out most of my inventory on what was otherwise a slow, kind of depressing day.

My partner has traveled with me to all of my events, and acts like it’s nothing to drive me, carry all my shit inside, and then go hide somewhere for 8 hours because I don’t want a white man trying to sell my books about Asian-American identity.

Without this core group of people, I’d be lost and sad and would become hungry and grumpy at fests, and I just really, really appreciate them. So, if you’re reading this, thank you times a million!!

For now, I’m going into hiding for a little to recharge while I reflect on how everything ran this year. I’m planning to draw and write and paint and read and go to Disneyland to eat. I have some projects in the works that I am super excited about. I also have some stuff that I’ve been putting off that I am not so excited about. I feel overwhelmed and underwhelmed and everything in between. But most of all, I am thankful for all that has happened, and can’t wait to do it again next year!

I take Halloween very seriously. If a costume requires a custom sweater not sold in stores, I’ll sew it (by hand, because I don’t know how to use a sewing machine). If a character is blonde, you bet I’ll be in a wig even though I have an abnormally large head and even simple headbands give me headaches. And, if I’m Walter White, of course I’m going to walk around with dime bags filled with blue rock candy that I had to buy in bulk somewhere in Commerce. You’ll be hard-pressed to find someone that takes this beautiful, should-be-national-holiday more seriously than I do. Unless that person is, like, a literal ghost or something.

I haven’t always been like this. In fact, I used to despise Halloween. In Kindergarten, I was Sailor Moon and dressed up in this fabulous outfit that my grandma sewed for me. I liked the clothes, but refused to wear the wig (26-year-old-me is disappointed rn). It got worse from there. As I got older, I began to think that dressing up was lame and only did it so I could go trick-or-treating. Thus, began a long string of forgettable, store-bought costumes that I chose based on how “normal” they looked. (Though, I was Helena from the My Chemical Romance music video once. Kinda proud of that one.) I prided myself on being mature and serious, and Halloween just didn’t fit that aesthetic.

Then, something changed. In college, I started watching this super low-key, cult-fave show called “Adventure Time.” I was obsessed. It was so weird and unique and just… silly. Watching it made me feel like it was okay to have fun—that it was good to not take oneself to seriously all the time. It’s fitting that my first real attempt at making a costume was when I grabbed a blue shirt, green felt, and puffy paint (also, a hand-sewn white hat from Etsy) and made this:

I let go of whatever was holding me back. I didn’t care about what others thought. I had fun. I felt free. And I didn’t look back. The next few Halloweens consisted of me dressing up as Walter White from Breaking Bad (yes, with blue rock candy), Mabel and Wendy from Gravity Falls (I also sewed a giant mistakenly two-legged Waddles), Sadie from Steven Universe, and most recently, Webby from Ducktales. I looked for any occasion to be in costume whether it was at Mickey’s Halloween Party at Disneyland or Comic-Con or just… life in general.

I adore the silliness of Halloween and am grateful to have a day dedicated to being creative and leaving all the stress in your everyday jean pockets back at home. I enjoy planning months in advance for what I’m going to make and what wig I’m going to buy and what shoes I can make use of. I find satisfaction in standing in the middle of a thirft store, looking at a still from an animated cartoon and trying to figure out how I can recreate that in real life. I love going out and seeing what others have managed to do with their costumes and how much fun they’re having. Halloween is truly a time of inspiration for me, and I’m so glad I was able to stop worrying about being cool and started worrying more about if my skirt is the same exact shade of purple as it is on a 13-year-old animated character.

What are some of your favorite Halloween costumes? And what are you doing this year? Let me know!

I’m back! This past month, got a few (eight—unprecedented!) days off from work, did some light traveling, and came back with a clear head. For so long, I’d been weighed down by constant work to be done, fatigue, and overall feelings of un-wellness that I thought I could outrun by doing more. That didn’t work lol. But what did work was taking a little break from all of that stress. Though, it did also create a whole separate issue.

BUT FIRST, the trip!

Every year, my extended family holds a reunion, and this year it was in the San Diego area. This is one of the highlights of my year, not only because it’s an excuse to take off from work, but also because my family is kind of great?? It’s always a week of little stress and even less sleep, but that’s okay. This year, it arrived at the perfect time, right when I needed to get away from the toxic people in my life and surround myself with the opposite.

The following week, I went back to San Diego, but this time, it was for another annual event—Comic-Con! This is easily my favorite thing that I do all year, and this time did not disappoint. We got to see friends, buy a lot of cool (Peanuts!) stuff, and meet new friends. And—this was extremely special—we got to reconnect with Leonard Maltin. In addition to being a fantastic film critic, he’s also an adjunct professor at USC, where my partner and I met. In our senior year, we both took Mr. Maltin’s film symposium class, and long story short, that’s why we’re together today. That, plus listening to a handful of my favorite creatives talk about their work, left me feeling excited to tackle all of my projects I’d left behind. I was SO ready.

However, I came back to find that I was not faced with a different problem. Apparently, a clear head and happiness are maybe not as conducive to making sad girl things as I’d have liked. I’d been so used to being inspired by being sad, looking sad, and acting sad. It’s kind of my thing. To not by consumed by negative feelings was a weird thing. I felt that I lacked inspiration to make things I wanted to make. I was emotionally content, sure, but not content with the lack of emo girl work being produced.

So, I sat for long periods of time. I watched the news and waited to feel sad about the decline of the country, but felt more inspired to create change. I scrolled through my IG feed, looking to feel both jealous and disgusted at the amount of superficial frenemies I choose to surround myself with, but I ended up just shrugging it off. I sought out toxic people on social media to look for reasons to be upset, but ended up coming to the conclusion that we are all just people who want the best for ourselves and our loved ones, even if some people are, like, dumb af. Like, who am I? Who is this calm adult that doesn’t pick fights and call idiots out? I was getting frustrated with myself because, as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t find it in me to be bothered. And thus, I didn’t feel that seething, “I hate the world” drive to make the kind of work I’m so used to putting out.

So, I sat again. I thought about what was stopping me, exactly. I’d been so used to taking my negative energy and channeling it into something else that I’d made it seem impossible to produce work any other way. Now that these feelings and the immediacy were gone, I felt stuck. As a person that has relied on emo tendencies to get shit done for the past 15 years, I felt like I suddenly didn’t have anything to talk about.

But the thing is, those feelings don’t just disappear. I still remember writing sad poems about getting threatened by a bully in seventh grade because I talked to her scene kid crush on Myspace. I can recall every time I’d accidentally read the comments section and cried because people are actually evil, especially when they’re on the internet and anonymous. And in the future, I’m still going to face rejection that makes me question my career choice and entire existence. The feelings will always be there. My inner emo kid is always here and accessible, even if I’m currently not feeling sad and lonely and disappointed and like I want to scream into a microphone about death and/or heartbreak.

The past couple weeks, I’ve been looking for new inspiration that doesn’t require that I feel like the world is ending. I’ve been walking a lot. I’ve been exploring the idea of compassion and how to make it cool. I’ve been watching Sailor Moon. I’ve learned that I don’t have to be sad to write sad things. Sure, it’s easier to make things when I’m hurting. And no, this doesn’t mean that I must suffer to get things done. But damn, I do like being dramatic.