Days of My Life

I can't always make other people happy. It's hard to do and even harder to admit. I spent years making decisions and commitments based on what I thought others wanted or needed, forgoing the better decisions for and commitments to myself. I tried to convince myself that seeing other people happy made me happy, but alas, they were only fleeting moments. On the occasions I failed to make somebody happy, I became disappointed. On the occasions somebody was completely unappreciative, I became angry. Furthermore, I can't ever base my happiness on one person, or any group of persons. I have to find happiness on my own terms, and that means asking myself what I want, and actually doing it. (from " Reflections ", January 2018)  You know the saying, "Do what makes you happy"? Well, I've been trying that out for the past year or so, and it really works. It took a lot for me to realize that I hadn't been happy, and it took a long time for me to become h...

"Are you crazy?" Yes, I am a little bit crazy, but I think we all knew that already. Signing up for half marathons was an idea; signing up for 10 half marathons was a mentality: go big or go home. Yes, I could have done two or three... But there was a 10-pack "tour pass" and I thought three would be too few and far in between. So I went for 10--for the sake of commitment, for the sake of adventure, and for the sake of 10 being a nice number. This was also an excuse for me to see more cities across the United States. "How do you do it?" At an expo earlier in the year, I saw a t-shirt that read "mind over miles" and that image remains vividly in my head. It takes a great deal of mental preparation--perhaps more of that than physical preparation. (Admittedly, I tell myself that also because I didn't physically prepare for most races, having treated each one as preparation/ training for the next.) Particularly toward the end of the ...

I used to tell people, "I am diabetic" or "I am a diabetic" and I never liked saying that because it wasn't something that people reacted positively to, or it wasn't something that everybody understood.  Previously, I wrote about my first taste of empowerment , when I (finally) learned in middle school to give myself injections. Undoubtedly, this turning point also brought about a change in attitude. Until then, I used to constantly be frustrated or angry about having diabetes, about not being able to do X/Y/Z, about being micromanaged by my parents. After I learned to administer injections to myself and especially after I started using the insulin pump, I began to feel more control over and ownership of my condition. I no longer had to rely on my mother or the school nurse, and I could take insulin whenever, for whatever I wanted to eat (within reason) or glucose reading I needed to correct.  One day, I had an epiphany: that what I had been tell...

"Don't ever feel bad for making a decision that upsets other people. You are not responsible for their happiness. You are responsible for your happiness." - Isaiah Henkel "Don't ever let someone make you feel like you're crazy for wanting what you deserve." - @thegoodquote "You know you're winning when you're happy for no reason. When you don't attach your happiness to anything or anyone, you become free." - @thegoodquote "Stop waiting for someone else to give your life meaning." - Jeff Hood "One day someone will mention their name and you will feel no bitterness no hatred no hurt in your heart and that's how you know you have found inner peace." - M. Ballard "Everything you want is on the other side of fear." - @electricflightcrew "If you help everyone around you but can't help yourself, you've missed the point." - Lewis Howes "I'm attracted to intel...

It seems that I go through a "quarter-life crisis" every three years or so. Accordingly, several years ago, I was going through one of these said crises, and had been making some life changes--for the better, of course. For some reason, I had always been scared of dogs. I'd never been bitten by one--I was just so afraid of even coming close to any dog, big or small. One day during the aforementioned quarter-life crisis, I was standing in my cousins' house contemplating my recent changes and wondering what more to do. Suddenly, their chihuahua approached me and licked my foot, which initially grossed me out. Then I looked down at her, and in that moment I decided to simply not be afraid of dogs anymore. I inhaled deeply, bent down, and picked her up. I exclaimed, "Look! I'm holding Snowflake!" Nobody reacted because picking up Snowflake was such a normal thing to them, but to me, that was a moment of triumph, a moment of empowerment that I vividly reca...

People frequently ask me what "Remy Sea" means. Following is the thought process I underwent as I contemplated a "pen name" for this blog forever ago. Just before freshman year of high school, I read This Lullaby  by Sarah Dessen, one of my favorite YA authors. The main character's name is Remy Starr, which I thought was poetic, because she was the star of the story (e.g. the protagonist). I greatly admired her determination, independence, and grit. She knows what she wants and she knows how to get it. She doesn't let herself get attached to any one person, and she certainly doesn't let any one person tell her what to do. She became my favorite fictional character because she was the (slightly rebellious) 18-year-old I wanted to become. I didn't (still don't) know how to swim. Hence, the vastness and unpredictability of the ocean used to (sometimes still does) frighten me deeply. But during sophomore year, I learned to reframe vastness as oppo...

Isn't it wondrous how easily people appear in our lives, and how much more easily some of the same people disappear from our lives? I've been thinking about this a great deal lately. Let's say you've just started dating someone new. One month in, you introduce him/her to your friends. They might think, "Oh, where did s/he come from?" but they wouldn't actually ask; rather, they accept that someone new has entered your life, and subsequently someone new is entering their lives. Months or years later, you separate, and your former SO is no longer S, just O. It's as though s/he has been erased from the pages of history, never to be mentioned or seen again amongst you and your friends. Alternatively, you're on a dating app. You match with somebody (yay!), you go through the obligatory initial conversation, you meet up, and you dig one another. With as little as a few hours of (virtual and face-to-face) conversation, you've let somebody new into...

I don't need to try to please everybody. As valiant and commendable of an effort as one can make, it is impossible to make everybody happy. While happiness can ensue via acts of service for others, I've come to realize that it also has to be actively pursued by asking myself what I want .  A good relationship with my parents is just as important as a good relationship with anybody else. In middle school, I began to "rebel", and in doing so, I of course often upset my parents, and began to communicate with them less and less about my daily goings-on. Meanwhile, I began to develop deep relationships with friends and later romantic relationships with boy(s). A part of me thought that it was a trade-off--either relationship with my parents or relationships with my friends. And I made a choice. But really, there was truly no reason it couldn't have been both.  Not every relationship (the general sense of the word, not just the romantic sense) needs to stay a relatio...

It has been almost two years since I began my journey of personal development. It’s been long, and it’s been a long time coming, though “development” connotes an ongoing process, one that doesn’t end. As my colleague once wisely stated, “Mastery is a direction, not a destination.” While it would be easy for me to readily negate everything that I’ve done and the progress I’ve made by saying, “Meh, I haven’t accomplished that much,” that would be giving myself too little credit. I have reevaluated and reflected a great deal, and admittedly, I also have never cried so much and so often before this whole process began—sometimes good and happy tears, other times--simply sad tears. Here are a handful of things I have learned. This list is not meant to impart wisdom or evoke sympathy. I merely want to share some of the recurring themes that go on in my head since my journey began as well as some of the recurring themes that go on in my head for the journey that continues. Everybody has...

"I told her I was lost in this world, and she smiled, because she was too, we were all lost somehow, but we didn't care, we had, in the chaos, found each other." - Atticus "Don't give up now, chances are your best kiss your hardest laugh and your greatest day are still yet to come." - Atticus  "Self-love is so important; I don't want to be in my elderly years, flicking through old pictures of myself and at the last moment realising how beautiful I truly was." - Meggan Roxanne "Give people time. Give people space. Don't beg anyone to stay. Let them roam. What's meant for you will always be yours." - Reyna Biddy "Your relationship with yourself sets the tone for every other relationship you have." - TheGoodQuote

Vulnerable . A word that I rarely ever used, especially to describe my state of mind or being, prior to my current job. One of the main things we do is teach and help leaders develop the eight characteristics of greatness, and vulnerability is one. In years prior, I had periodically seen and characterized myself as "a sensitive soul". Nonetheless, I would hide it behind the jokes and the laughter. It was really only when I watched sad scenes in movies or shows that I showed my sensitive side. Or when I would occasionally get upset about something that someone said about me. But in the past year of learning about the world and learning about myself (not mutually exclusive), I've realized that it's okay to be vulnerable and to show vulnerability. It's hard, especially when we grow up being told to not show vulnerability, which is a sign of weakness, and that we might be stepped on by doing so...among other things. I don't know how it works for our clients or...

Sherry: "I've typed it so many times, but I still don't know how to spell 'Hors d'Oeuvres.'"     Me: "It's spelled a-p-p-e-t-i-z-e-r."

This week, Ace disappointed me for the fourth time in the four months I have had him. The first three months were a perfectly--and surprisingly--smooth ride. And then I guess he started to grow up, and not only got comfortable, but also learned to take things for granted. The first time was several weeks ago, when I had been in a rush to get out of the apartment, and I snapped at him right before I left. While I was away for an hour, I felt unreasonably guilty, so I was already planning to give him a small piece of rotisserie chicken as a treat--or an apology--upon return. After going up and down the stairs with several loads of Costco merchandise, I walked into the kitchen, and saw a huge mess on the floor. He had jumped and somehow gotten the tied-up bag of food-trash out of the sink, and ate nearly all of its contents: half-eaten tortillas (because I don't eat tacos properly, so they say), saucy Styrofoam containers, browned banana peels... There was a myriad of things that...

The first time I ever felt empowered was the second day of sixth grade. On the first day, my mom had taken her morning off work to drive me to school, from Chinatown to Northridge, in order to give me my insulin injections for breakfast and lunch, and to make sure the school nurse knew everything she needed to about me. Nurse Sue was astonished that my mom had gone to such an extent to take care of me. "Astonished" might be too nice of a word--I think she was shocked, and perhaps even abhorred. I was in sixth grade now, and I had never given myself an injection, despite having had T1D for 10 years now?! Now that I think back on it, I myself am ashamed. The second day of school, my mom did the same thing--she took the morning off work and drove another almost 40 miles to school. Again, she waited in the nurse's office while I had my morning classes, and when lunch time rolled around, I entered the nurse's office wondering how we would ever resolve this major inconven...

Last Friday, I found out during our team meeting that our office would be closed the following Monday and Tuesday (i.e. yesterday and today) for Rosh Hashana. My immediate reaction was panic mixed with a bit of pleasant-surprise-shock--because who wouldn't welcome a day--much less TWO days--off? But I was panicked because I didn't know what to do with myself. I had plans for Saturday until mid-afternoon, and then I had three blank days ahead. Three blank days! "What do I do with myself?!" I crazily asked myself aloud and silently on repeat. I spent the rest of Friday contemplating plans and trips that I could execute in solitude, half-settling on driving up to Norcal to visit some friends. Alas, Saturday rolled around, and I did everything I had planned to do, in addition to a mid-afternoon impromptu shopping trip with my mom. I also ended up staying in Lincoln Heights, given that I had no real reason (i.e. plan) to go back to my apartment, and had lunch and went groc...

Before moving into our apartment in PDR in March, M and I had planned to split our time between our houses in OC and LA and commute to work from wherever we were any given day. But that never really happened, because right after that decision, we found this apartment. And frankly, I'm kind of glad it hadn't happened, because I do not enjoy any commute that involves the 405, the 110, or the 10. Weird, though, because in the past month, I have noticed how nomadic our lifestyle is, despite having "found our own place." Almost every Friday, we'd pack our duffle bags and get into the car early afternoon before rush hour or late evening after rush hour to go somewhere--his parents' house, my parents' house, Sacramento, Joshua Tree, somewhere random. And when we came back on Sunday night, we'd exhaustedly toss our duffle bags onto the living room floor, putting off unpacking for a couple of days--only to have to repack on that very Friday. At some point, we...

Sunset after the first day of training The wonderful ladies that were by my side  Creative creations by the campers My first time "dabbing"... Ryan always wore a Superman cape, and made a Superman cupcake. So excited about mason jars! "So Pinterest, so Tumblr" "I love the mountains, I love the rolling hills..."  Rock n Roll Breakfast  Teamwork and focus in baking cupcake cones  Cabin 6 love on Cabin Night--we were "so Pinterest" with our mason jars!  A photo with the boys, sans "dab" The dance  Love these gals (and Trevor)  Making "spirit stones" in nature/ mindfulness  The little ones become such gentlemen Strong bonds and sisterhoods (and focus) in the older cabins  The boys patiently awaiting next instructions, so well-behaved!  Better together

This is a post that I had started in August/ September 2015, shortly after I returned from camp (see below). I had begun to summarize my Asia trip at the bottom of the post, and then closed out of the draft window, opting to sleep, telling myself that I'd continue and finish it the next time. It is now July 2016, and the only update to this piece are the added pictures. Everything else to come later, in a separate post... Before I start with what I've been wanting to write, let me tell you this: if you are considering broiling/ boiling vegetables with coconut oil, don't do it. Or if you really want to, use only a tiny bit of the oil, because it certainly is strong. The last few months have been a true blessing, for lack of a brief description. However, since I rarely lack a brief description, here's a skeleton of what I feel fortunate enough to deem a blessing. I'll start backwards chronologically: Camp Ronald McDonald . It's truly the best life decis...

Frequently, it occurs to me how little immigrant parents know--and I don't mean that in any negative way. Knowing little of the English language and little about American culture, they assimilate how they can, and what they see is what they absorb and subsequently "know." For instance, until last year, my family had never had a dog--or any pet, for that matter, other than the occasional goldfish we scored from carnivals at Alpine Park. The only kind of dog that we ever "regularly" came in contact with was a distant (but not really, because she lives in El Sereno, which is adjacent to where we live) relative's guard dog, a German shepherd of whom I was stupidly afraid. A little over 1.5 years ago, my dad began contemplating getting a dog; then it became getting a guard dog; and then, of course, it became "getting the dog that 'mumu' [Cantonese translation for a non-blood related grandmother] has." At some point, he found out from mumu the na...

Isn't it crazy? When I was younger, I couldn't wait to be twenty-something years old, because I knew these would be the prime years. I assumed I'd know everything there is to know about life by this strange, odd age of 24 (okay, more even than odd). Now here I am, a few weeks past my 24th birthday, without a clue about the adult things that I've been hearing about and should do or start doing, the adult things described with words and numbers I never thought to string together as a child: "Are utilities included in the rent?"  "Is 750 square feet big enough?" "401K." "Make a budget." While I'm getting more involved in the adult life I had long pined for, I admit that a part of me wants to stay at home, where I know I don't have to cook my own meals and can even make requests here and there, where I can assume that if the laundry hamper is overflowing, someone else (i.e. Mom) will likely take care of it, where I am...