Life Lesson Learned after 30

This is a tradition that I've kept up on my birthday for the past few years (26th, 27th, 28th, 29th, 30th). I hope you find something useful in the following list: if not something to agree with, then at least something of some small entertainment value.

Lessons learned in my 31st year of life:

1. How to let go of worry

I’ve spent the past year and a half receiving mental health therapy (eternally grateful that I have health insurance). Part of that therapy included a class about excessive worrying. One of my most important takeaways from therapy is that our thoughts are not reality. When a worrying thought suddenly appears in my mind, I don't have to wrestle with it. I can let it go like a balloon.

This past year, I also learned about panic disorder, how to manage panic attacks, how to grapple with negative emotions, and how freaking wonderful therapy is. I'm a true believer that everyone can benefit from therapy (provided that the therapist is a good fit). I've also accepted that I'm not sick, broken, or overly-whatever: I'm just a normal human being with normal thoughts, emotions, and problems.

2. Trust yourself

If you feel stressed, respond do that feeling rather than think that there's something wrong with you for feeling that way. When you're at a crossroads and need to make a decision, know that your decision is based on your years of experience on this planet as well as on the guidance of wise elders who have guided you. When you feel nervous about doing something new for the first time, trust that you are prepared enough for this moment and that you will make it to the other side--one way or another.

3. Talk to your friends and family about mental health

Not everyone is ready to hear what you have to say. Some will misunderstand you, others will have their own preconceived notions about mental health, and your friends and family might worry about you more than you want them to--but try talking to them about mental health anyway. Doing so helped me feel less scared about the fact that I needed professional help, opened others up to the possibility of getting help themselves, and revealed to me that some of my loved ones were already on their own journeys of receiving help. Telling my friends and family about going to therapy once felt shameful, like I was admitting to them that I had failed in some way or that there was something "less than" about me. Now, saying that I have a therapy appointment feels as breezy as saying I have a dentist appointment. I can tell I still catch some people off guard when I bring it up. If they have questions for me about therapy, I'm now an open book. Therapy has become normal for me, and I hope it will become normalized for more people as well.

4. Pursue your interests for the sake of your own enjoyment.
For as long as I can remember, everything I did felt like it had to be something worth mentioning in my resume--otherwise, it wasn't worth doing at all. Though I love reading, too often I'd find myself choosing books that came from some cannon that I thought was supposed to make me more of an intellectual, or worldly, or at least in the loop with people whom it seemed I should be in the loop with.

Recently, a friend told me, "do what you love; let the rest follow."

On this year's summer trip, I realize that that's what travel has become for me: something I love to do with no purpose other than to feel joy. My trips aren't leading up to anything. I'm not learning something on which I'll be tested on later. It's not professional development. I'm not even soul-searching with the hopes of arriving at some self actualized destination. I just do it and feel happy about it.

Between endless work hours, my Master's program, doctors visits, Kaiser classes, weekend chores, and feeble attempts to keep a physical fitness regimen, everything in life felt urgent and compulsory. Even sleep itself became less of something to do to relax and more of an investment for an energized day tomorrow.

Everything about travel, on the other hand, feels freeing. When I travel, I feel my mind opening up, ready to drink up whatever a new land has to offer. Many have asked me why I don't somehow capitalize on my experience: why doing I start a travel blog or vlog? help others organize their trips for a fee? write a book on my experiences? Right now, I don't want to do any of that. I don't want to feel like my experiences abroad need to amount to something. I want to travel for no reason.

What do yo do for no reason, other than to experience joy?

5. Take up your fair amount of space, unapologetically.

One of the massively disappointing realizations I've come to recently is that many grown ups in the world are just out there talking the talk and honestly have no idea what they are talking about, let alone know what they are doing. And yet, these people continue to raise their hand and speak up because they genuinely feel that they have something important to say.

Now, that being said, other people are smart, thought-provoking, inspiring, evocative, talented, and wise. Some of these people speak up, too.

I can't guarantee that I'll always be in the latter category, but I'm learning to see myself as equal to everyone around me, not less than. I won't go so far as to manspreading like the stinky, hairy dude that sat next to me on a long haul bus in Poland, but I'll stop shrinking myself in hopes of going unnoticed. I'll ask questions if I'm genuinely lost, even if my question makes me look dumb. I'll state my opinion when it feels important, but also be open to having my opinion be changed after hearing other sides. I'll ask for what I need if I truly need it and let go of any shame or guilt for being a regular human being who needs what she needs.

6. Channel your confidence from your areas of strength to your areas of (perceived) weakness.
My therapist put me through a thought experiment:

Him: "What do you mean you're going to travel by yourself? But what if you get lost?"
Me: *Confused* "Then I'll use my phone. Or look at a map." (duh)
Him: "But what if you don't have a map? What if you can't ask for directions because you don't understand the language?"
Me: "Then I'll go back to the hostel and figure it out there."
Him: "But what if you can't get back to the hostel?"
Me: "...then I'll go to the police station." (This has really happened, lol).
Him: "But what if... what if... Ok, I'm being facetious, but maybe you get what I'm getting at here."
Me: "Not really."
Him: "You feel confident about traveling because you know that whatever happens, you'll be able to figure it out. You don't know that you're going to have a perfect trip, free of problems, but you know that if a problem arises, you'll handle it. That's how you need to approach [insert other things that I've fretted about with him here]"

We all have arenas in our life that we are marginally confident about. We all have other arenas in which we feel like a total dunce. I know that I get caught up with worry when it comes to being a good teacher. Ultimately, all I can do is go out there and do my best--and then deal with crises as they arise, one at a time.

7. Laugh at yourself.
I am legit tired of taking myself so seriously. Like I mentioned in lesson #4, I'm tired of resume-building and trying to be somebody. I respect myself, but I also don't mind being dumbest (ok, "least informed") person in the room anymore. I'm tired of trying to prove myself. I am who I am right now. I'll be better one day.

8. Economize things, but not everything, otherwise you end up squandering the most important thing: time.

Sometimes you just gotta make a decision, commit, and move on.

9. Sadness and disappointment are inevitable parts of your life; your impatience at those feelings doesn’t have to be.
Sadness is real. We don't get to pick what we get sad over. Shame is real. Sometimes we feel shame over what we feel sad about.

I've gotten better at noticing when I feel joy: I pause, bask in it, breathe it in, and preserve it for later. Sadness demands to be felt, too. It's hard to fight off sadness and shame. Some people may be able to suppress negative feelings to deal with later, or never, but I'm not one of those people. I haven't learned how to erase negative feelings, but I am learning to live with them when they come and to know that I'll come out the other side eventually.

10. When things aren’t working, give it some time to get better and mull over your situation with a trusted confidant. Then, if it still isn’t working, leave. A situation that works for someone else doesn’t have to work for you. Don’t envy the colleague who has stayed year after year after year when they have clearly been unhappy despite their decade-plus of tenure. Fit is more important than longevity.

I have a feeling that some of my lessons learned this year are similar, if not identical to lessons learned in previous years. That's how learning goes. Sometimes you gotta see the same material again and again and from different angles before it starts to settle in. I may even forget some of these nuggets again, but with practice, some of these new ideas will become more ingrained in me.

- - -

Reflections

Happy birthday, self.

I’m getting to the age where I’d found it tacky for “older people” to make a big deal about their birthday. I’d notice elders seem to sort of forget that their birthday was coming, or not break stride as their birthday passes, or have to do arithmetic, asking “what year are we in?” in order to figure out how old they are, as though no one had been so crude as to ask them their age in the past several years.

And well, here I am at that time in my life when I should not expect any pomp and circumstance for just another day of the year. And so it was.

My surprising disappointment at this celebration that I was supposedly not expecting was super duper annoying, man. Like, I just wanted to play it cool that my birthday went by largely unnoticed. For someone turning 31, my traitorous emotions were acting my shoes size, not my age.

In the days leading up to my birthday, a tiny voice—not mine, I swear— from the fartherst reaches of my mind asked, “what surprise will my birthday bring? I mean, sure,  no big surprises, of course, but maybe something itty bitty?”

Click, clack, click. The days leading up to my day clacked by like a roller coaster approaching its summit. My stomach knotted at the thought of leaving 30 behind,  but fluttered with anticipation for what was to come.

And the morning came.

And the roller coaster, rather than peaking and dropping, pulled up to the platform. 

 - - -

That was a long and dramatic way of saying that I felt forgotten on my birthday. A part of me was expecting to hear from close friends even though of course, I know nothing should ever be expected. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but it stung. It took a couple of days to shake it off. In the end, I like to think that I picked myself up and turned it around. Birthdays aren't a big deal for everyone, I always make it a point to greet loved ones on their birthday, even making sure to remind mutual friends to greet the celebrant. I pick up the phone and give them a call to make sure they know that I'm thinking of them and to ask them what they're doing to celebrate.

I was in a complicated situation--I was abroad, I had a different phone number on me that no one else had, and my actual birthday was spent apart from loved ones. What did I expect? I like to think that I received some birthday messages via text that never made it to me, even after putting my old SIM card back in. I also tell myself that had I been in town with loved ones that they would have done something to help me feel loved on my special day.

In the end, I went all out for my own birthday. They say "always date your spouse" as a way to never let your relationship with them go stale. But how about "date yourself"? On the night of my birthday, I got dolled up and hit the town in Warsaw. Even after a full day of exploring, I took a shower, put on a dress and a full face of make up, and made reservations for one at a nice restaurant. The online reservation form had a line where you could tell them if you were coming to dine for a special occasion, so I figured I'd tell them.

When I arrived, I was greeted with a birthday aperitif. I felt special already! I then ordered an appetizer of rabbit, a main of duck with corn bread, a wine pairing, a dessert made of chocolate and pineapple and basil and wafers and pure magic, and a Polish coffee (third drink of the night). My server then surprised me with a final glass of sparkling wine. I wined and dined for a solid three hours with no one but the company of me, myself, and I. I'm used to eating alone during my travels, but I've never had a full evening of gourmet dish after gourmet dish at a romantic restaurant, where multiples servers wait on me hand and foot to the sweet melodies of an Italian opera. Happy birthday, self.

Anyway, that's enough about turning 31. Here are these past two years (because I skipped this bit in last year's birthday post), in landmarks:

In my 30th year:

• NYC & Baltimore
• Start Master's program at SFSU
• San Diego three times
• New Mexico
• El Paso
• Move to Oakland Chinatown
• Host Edward and Kevin
• Host the Angeles family for Christmas in Oakland
• Start therapy
• Get an abstract accepted to an international conference in Seoul
• Vegas
• Seattle
• Chicago
• Norway
• Sweden
• Say goodbye after four years of teaching at AIA
• Hawaii
• Scotland
• Wales
• England
• Northern Ireland (solo trip)
• Ireland (solo trip)

In my 31st year:

• Start teaching at HNHS
• NYC & Baltimore
• San Diego four times
• LA
• Mt. Rainier 
• Grass Valley
• Asilomar
• Chile
• Argentina
• Host Edward, Kevin, Ate Kate, Tin and Paul
• Philippines
• Meet up with Noey twice
• Vegas
• Orange County
• Hawaii
• the Netherlands
• Belgium
• Luxembourg
• Germany
• Poland (solo trip)
• Czech
• Hungary
• Croatia

Life Lessons Learned in my 30th Year of Life

This was a rough year. Let the record show that the latter half of my 30th year of life was psychologically, emotionally, and eventually physically draining. I started going to therapy, I was a wreck, I stopped doing things that brought me comfort or joy and instead scrambled to find ways to survive. I went to the hospital many times. I gained weight. I felt distant from the people closest to me. I was always on edge. I felt helpless and hopeless.

I won't go into the "why" of it all here.

Without further ado, a list:

Life Lessons Learned in my 30th Year of Life

1. Panic attacks suck, a lot, but they are surmountable.

2. I am really good at what I do, I'm smart, and I am continually growing. I won't always get credit for that from people whose approval I misguidedly seek, but no matter--I have loads of experience and my heart is in the right place, so here I march to victory.

3. I won't ever be the best at one thing and I don't have one calling in life. I have many varied interests and it's less important that I become an expert at anything and more important that I commit to a few things and see how far I can take it. For me, these things have been teaching, writing, running, traveling, and reading. I'm no longer trying to become a fast runner, a rock star teacher, an award-winning author, a travel writer, or a critic or editor for some publishing company. I'm just trying to make sure that I am doing one of the above and that I learn some things along the way.

4. Sometimes, I just need to turn my brain off. I over think social situations, I'm self conscious, I'm critical to a fault, I expect the worst and plan every minute detail. And yet, in my most mentally fatigued moments when I was too dead tired to think anymore, life found a way to pleasantly work out for the better. Turning my the chatter in my head down is much easier said than done, but I'm learning to cope.

 5. Loved ones are all that matter in life. Few of us leave a legacy postmortem. Reputation and public image are fickle. Goals and dreams are fun, but reaching them doesn't matter if you don't have your loved ones by your side in the end. What's most important is to relish the time spent with loved ones today and every day and to keep your heart open to new friends that life sends your way.

6. Mental health and self care can easily fall by the wayside, yet no one else can take charge besides yourself--so take care of your damn self. What's the point in pursuing your dreams if you're not fulfilled content along the way? Ambition is tricky because desire with pleasure is heaven, but desire without pleasure is hell. Stay hungry, but don't turn yourself into a martyr by starving to death.

7. Act braver than you are. Do what someone braver and smarter than you would do. For me, this year, that's meant traveling solo, joining social functions in which I don't know a single soul, going to group therapy, teaching, sharing my writing with others (to be critiqued!), and beginning the next chapter of my life.

8. Some people really, really suck, and OK, maybe they have their own story and have their own good intentions and you don't have it all figured out, but you don't need to give everyone the time of day to figure them out so that they don't suck in your head any more. Just move on.

9. Just because someone is talking, doesn't mean they have any idea what they're talking about. I read a great book about imposter syndrome called The Secret Thoughts of Successful Women by Valerie Young. I learned about all the ways that I experience imposter syndrome--I second-guess my decisions, I always assume that I am the least experienced person in the room without much to offer, I attempt to compensate by my perceived lack of competence with hard work, research, and planning, I analyze and accept as truth every critique of my own work, and I just generally think I do a crap job at anything I attempt... however, after reading her book, I started to realize 1) I am more competent than I think and 2) not everyone around me is as competent as they want me to think.

Here's to a new decade.

Birthday Blogpost: 10 Lessons (or Thoughts) Collected This Year

FBAE<3

A list of lessons learned in my 29th year: [See also: 28th / 27th / 26th ]

1. To take a good picture: first, take notice. Second, take your time. Then, capture the moment. Finally, take pride. 

2. To cope with stress: practice short term memory. I believe others call it optimism.

3. When you're lost: ask for direction.

4. When you've lived up to your potential, explore what else you may be capable of (or barely capable of... or capable of with a bit more time and practice), including tangential interests.

5. You aren't exercising patience until you're aware that you are. Then, exercise patience.

6. The right pairing of chocolate and wine is the true embodiment of a sum being greater than its parts. 

7. Learning about history is more interesting when it falls into one of these categories: 1) it pertains to your heritage or an aspect of your self-identity, 2) you are walking the streets on which it took place, 3) it is a raunchy BBC drama, or 4) it is a hit, hip hop Broadway musical.

8. Neither music, nor art, nor writing require an audience; its right to exist is self-evident.

9. When you're not sure where to begin: begin in the middle. Then, work in frantic-yet-methodological circles and spirals and squiggles and doodles. Then, work on a second draft. The very beginning of anything is always the most elusive.

10. The term "hipster" arguably once implied counter-culture or fresh or young or even nothing at all except something to deny when called as such, yet it's become synonymous with 'overplayed', 'cliché', and even 'bastardized'. I fear that every corner of my life as an (albeit, late-) 20-something has been gentrified with a culture that wasn't supposed to be mine, like I've stolen a trite millennial idea of a trophy life and haven't stopped running. How can I not feel this way when I make burgers out of brown rice and zucchini instead of pork sinigang with extra rice and escape the country for a Insta-worthy rendezvous for Thanksgiving instead of attending a loud Filipino family party? One day I will look back at the 2010s decade and insist to my kids that my millennial hipster life was lit whilst wondering what what type of culture to pass on to them, but until then: fellow millennials, does hipster life continue on into your 30s?

Maybe the targeted advertising algorithm and echo chamber of shared interests (and increasingly small world) has unjustly caused me to believe my life is the worst iteration of "hipster". In truth, I'm lucky enough to be surrounded by friends and family who introduce me to new experiences and fan the flames of interest in hobbies I would have otherwise never thought possible for myself.

===

Reflections

I'm not sure what to put a cap on. Number 29 was neither quite a beginning nor an end. It was the meaty middle of a life that I've long known to be spinning out and away of any semblance of Life Expected. 

I'm past huffing and puffing and stumbling and wheezing. I'm past the runner's high, the chirping birds and buzzing bees, and seeing the neighborhood with a different perspective á la endorphins e adrenaline. I'm at a fuzzy mile-15-18. I'm lost in thought while letting thoughts run through me and past me.

I have a million and a half things to be thankful for... yet the numbness required to cope with overwork and vicarious trauma too often turns into unsolicited short-term memory. So instead of getting on my knees, I march on. The eternal sunshine of my spotless heart is groggily coming to after a year of an emotional coma.

I barely remember what happened in this past year... at least, not as fully and deeply as I would like. As with previous years, airline miles were my recreational drug of choice. Here is a list of mile-markers throughout the year:

• Baltimore: Nostalgia meets wonder, pride, and beauty in a summer reunion with my other-life sister. 
• NYC: The sixth sense proves triumphant in the birthday surprise that was not a surprise; the gang is reunited for a we-could-be-anywhere night and day out on the town for hipster eats, copious glasses of wine, cupcakes, and NYC-living.
• Athens: Activity-packed; mile after mile of history and architectural mystery. And graffiti.  
• Santorini: The site of this year's annual summer solo-travel commencement. Luxurious laziness settles; coastal views stretch for miles. As the hours, minutes, and days mount, so too the inner quiet I hadn't realized I'd been seeking.
• Venice: On first arrival at 10 o'clock at night, as the motor of the water bus roars and romantic cafe patrons dine along canals, I am overcome with happiness for my 16-year-old self. Adolescent me knew nothing about travel--yet I dreamed of striped gondola drivers, accordion music notes dotting the night sky, and delicate canal bridges. Our arrival in this archipelago town signifies my own arrival. I'm surprised at the peace I feel with the realization that I've come to the end of teenaged-April's Life Goals List. Nowhere left to grow? No, but everything hereafter is unplanned icing on the cake.
• Rome: My co-captain and I squeeze two lives in the time of one. Who says you can't work full time and play full time?
• Turin (and around): An introduction to Italian life. Food, food, food, food, and food. 
• The Grand Traversata della Alpi (The Italian Alps): Views so stunning, they rob purpose from the dreamworld. 
• Pacific Crest Trail (50 miles of desert): I didn't know that my partaking in this trip was a simple question I was asking myself: can I? Answer: Yes, barely.
• Irvine: Food, food, food, food, and food.
• San Diego: Marathon #5, valuable family time, and skydiving (aka the biggest, most nauseating, adrenaline rush I've ever known and would whole-heartedly do again, 15 times out of 10), 2 NFL games, a devastating loss in the family, birthday celebrations, brewery crawl, and cherished times with even more highly cherished high school friends. 
• South Bay trips (Halloween, ramen again and again): Will you be craving ramen 3 hours from now? Let's go! And once, the same ramen spot a mere 5 days later.
• Santa Rosa: Countryside views and free glasses of wine--I don't recognize myself anymore either.
• Banff: Sister time and Aurora Borealis sighting #3 (unique every time). Plenty of hiking, wild-animal-run-ins, and no sleep for 3 days.
• Alaska: A full, unplugged, deep-dive week of adventure and relaxation. Aurora Borealis sighting #2.
• Hawaii: Happy Retirement, Dad! 30 years of hard labor, stress, and sacrifice for your family and fellow servicemen. Untold stories finally come to light, leading only to more pride.
• Arizona (twice): Desertscapes, snowy, alabaster foggy canyonscapes, red rock, and Sonoran Mexican food.
• Tahoe: 6 hour slow trek through a blizzard and worth-it Christmas morning views.
• Nashville: The gang's all here; nature walks, dead deer, city walks, Thanksgiving feasts... everyday for a week... and a surprising feast of Jazz music to boot. 
• Santa Cruz: Tinyhouse in the woods, complete with outdoor bathtub and compost toilet. Brazilian brunch, roadtrip, and beach walks without beach weather.
• Joshua Tree: Hiking + clement weather + friends + California Super Bloom
• Oakland, hosting the Aba-bros: Ice cream, food, ice cream, food, food, followed by ice cream. Repeat for 3 days (or something to that effect).
• Oakland, hosting Tita Lloyd: another childhood dream come true, this time of having family from the Philippines in the U.S. Ice cream (of course) and SF tourist things.
• Oakland, hosting Ayumi and Andy: Proof that true friendships stand not only the test of time, but of geography. 

As for me, what did I do with/for/by myself this year? I finished my 3rd year of teaching in Oakland. I nurtured the hell out of the most important relationships in my life. I worked way too much. I let go of the past. I intravenously overdosed on movies, documentaries, books, podcasts, and social media. I felt guilty about not exercising enough. 

Cheers to 29 years of a curvy paths, jagged peaks, and desert plateaus. I predict next year to be a formulaic sequel of subplot drama, high-def 4K clips of mouth-watering food, and that "I refuse to explain or defend myself" comfort feeling you get when you re-watch episodes of Friends or Gilmore Girls. Despite the expected reprise, again I line up at midnight with anticipation, promise to devour the v10.0.1 as though it's brand new, and hope to walk away appreciating the soundtrack and other-worldly scenery.

Birthday Post: One Score and Eight Years

Nordic chieftain marrying A&B at the shore of a glacier lagoon. PC: Kendra Ednacot 

Another day, another summer, and oh! ...another birthday.

Last year, I spent my birthday mourning over youth lost; now, a year later, I'm blessed enough to count another birthday.

This year, I embark on a new stage in my life: "old enough to appreciate more, to know better, to try more, to do less". I'm more settled without being settled down.

In celebrating my 24th, 25th, and 26th birthdays, my fate felt like a blank slate. I was enthralled by the possibility of what lay in my life ahead of me, yet impatient because I felt like I hadn't done anything yet. I wandered, I dabbled, I observed, I experimented. Now, my wonder is curbed (though the ember still glows) and I have a bit more focus and direction--or at the very least, a few dream destinations. As a bonus, at 28, I'm met with a new feeling of contentment. I'm proud of the path I've carved in recent years. Counting back birthdays: one year ago, I trekked across the diverse landscapes of Peru; two years ago, I danced along the shore of the Sea of Japan, wore a jinbei and drank green tea in a ryokan in Niigata; three years ago, I traipsed bamboo forests and biked winding trails in Kyoto; four years ago, I tiptoed amongst towering golden palaces in Bangkok; five years ago, I danced the night (and early morning) away, mojito in hand, on the shores of Havana. What a ride my early/mid 20s has been.

My birthday reflections take place this year in Iceland, Spain, Morocco, Portugal, Finland, and Denmark. I'm blessed, privileged, lucky, and infinitely thankful to have lead a life of thrills, luxury, food, fulfillment, love, safety, and comfort. I approach my late 20s... with conviction! and determination! ...and most importantly, a sense of safety and stability due to this hand dandy life tool belt that I put together in the past 5-8 years. This year marks a clear transition in my life.

On June 27th, Brian and I made our promises (rather than our "I do's") to one another's parents. We vowed to take care of one another and to love and respect each others' families as we accept and are accepted into our new extended families. Many, many tears, "hails!", lobster tails, glasses of wine, and an impromptu fireworks show later, we breathed a satisfied sigh of relief that we pulled off our fantasy big-little wedding in Iceland.

As for my own vows and hopes for myself: to continue to grow professionally; to travel more; to spend more days and nights outdoors; to practice more languages more often; to nurture my relationships with my sisters, my parents, my closest friends, my new family, and my husband. I hope to continue to learn. I'll remember to simplify various corners of my life in order to not be overwhelmed and feeling like life is offering me more than I can handle. I'll shop less, prioritize tasks, and spend my time intentionally, I'll express my love and gratitude to the people in my life who continue to shape and nourish me.

= = =

For old time's sake, I offer:

A Humble List of Lessons Learned in My 28th Year. (Year 27) (Year 26)

1. Simplify your day to day routine; leave room for rest and leave room for spontaneity.

2. Simplify your wants.

3. On spending money: the more in tune you are with your values and the more in line your actions are with your values, the less money you waste. The clearer you are about 1) who and what you care about, 2) your goals, and 3) your passions, each dollar you spend toward one of these categories becomes an investment for your future, your personal development, and for causes and people you care about and the less you spend on, well, anything else.

4. Invest time and effort in your community; take part in celebrations, mentor, be seen, spend and eat locally, learn about your local history, support local artists and musicians, vote. It's the only and best way to have your own place in society and it's the only and best way to build and hope for a better future for society.

5. You're not the only one suffering from imposter syndrome and this isn't the last time it'll plague you. My parents rolled with the punches when they became new parents, all former and the sitting president figured and is figuring it out as they go along, and all teachers are fiddling the dials, trying their best to balance the right doses of 'what I learned to do in my teacher training', 'what my teachers did when I was in school', 'what my students seem to need', 'what feels right', and 'what I made up on the spot'. There's not always a right way to do something, but your preparation and judgement is good enough to make a decision right now and you'll continue to get better at what you do.

6. Don't read the news too much; be informed and take action, but don't let yourself become discouraged or afraid.

7. Care more about the well-being of others than of their perception of you.

8. Be the biggest bad ass you know... under your own definition of what it means to be a bad ass.

9. Find fulfillment and contentment in all of life's little tasks that you have to do any way (cooking, cleaning, running errands, commuting to and from work). It's healthier to find joy in the day to day than to trudge through the week and only live for vacations.

= = =

Happy birthday to me. Here's to 28 years of more ups than downs. Cheers to a new era of being an old-young-adult in soul and at heart; here's hoping that such an era lasts at least another 28 years.

P.S. Some or you may have seen my travel pictures on social media--you know, the polished, "life is grand!" photos of cathedrals, waterfalls, and desert landscapes. Just FYI, a little extra TMI for you--you aren't truly backpacking across a continent until you're on a slow country train's... toilet suffering from explosive diarrhea. EEYYYYY...

10 Life Lessons Learned in or before my 27th Year of Life

It's that time of year again. Time for a birthday post.

Quick confession--for the first time ever, upon reflecting over my upcoming birthday, I had a bit of a freak out moment. I even teared up. Twenty-seven?! Say it isn't so! Just today, my Spanish teacher asked me my age, and I went back and forth between trying to remember if I was 24 or 25 before realizing that I'm turning 27 tomorrow.

You gotta understand, I'd dreamed of being a 23-26 year old since I was nine or ten years old. By then, I believed that 22 was too young (and indeed, I felt that way at 22) and 27 was way, way, waaaay too old.

Yet, here I am, on the eve of my 27th birthday, about to turn too old. And if we really want to get all technical with the matter, technically, 27 years ago at this moment, I was already born (thanks, International Dateline).

Nine-year-old me believed that 23-year-old me would be having grand adventures, young, free, unattached--smart enough, well-off enough, healthy enough, and just doing grown-up things. Old enough to drive, old enough book plane tickets, drink colorful alcoholic drinks, sleep whenever I want, wake up whenever I want, go to the mall by myself, and all that good stuff that every nine-year-old pines for. I watched a lot of The Wild Thornberrys and So Weird in that day, and even though the heroines of those shows were only teens or tweens, I imagined myself at 23 living a life on the road or in the jungle in a camper, attempting to see everything the world has to offer. Oh, and at the time, my dad was also berating me for spending too many hours (six-plus hours, actually) holed up in my room lost in book after book. So, I reasoned around the time that Harry Potter was entering his second year at Hogwarts, being 23 or 24 also would definitely entail many uninterrupted hours of reading at any hour of the day.

Well, pre-teen self, if you are indeed reading this, yes, 23-26 was all that you believed it would be. 

In the past year, I said goodbye to the many close friends that I had made at my temporary home in Japan, I started, persisted, and did decently in the most difficult, most rewarding job I'd ever had, visited two new countries and six states, got engaged, and took up a new language. It was a big year. 

In the past month, to the day, I travelled to Peru solo, got to know Lima before welcoming my sister and Brian, traveled to Cusco, hiked the Andes, saw Machu Picchu, trekked to Huaraz, saw much more of the Andes (even more impressive than Machu Picchu, to be honest), saw Brian off, traveled to Arequipa on my own, moved in with a host family, started Spanish school, and am now traveling the southern and eastern region of Peru on my own--well, with new friends, anyway. I ziplined across a beautiful and massive canyon, volunteered at a remote village to teach local kids in a one-room schoolhouse, and wandered a 200-year-old city-sized labyrinth, formerly monastery, made of white volcanic rock.

Today, I woke up, called Brian to say hello, walked through the brilliantly sunny neighborhoods of Arequipa from my host family's house to my Spanish school, had my 3-hour lesson, chatted with students from around the world, and enjoyed delicious coffee with a couple of new friends, over which we discussed our plans for our trek this weekend--all of this by noon.

And after noon, I had a marvelous day locked up in my bedroom, watching episode after episode of my latest guilty pleasure (yet another Sherlock Holmes-based TV show), binging on $6-worth of Arequipa's finest chocolate (which is a lot of chocolate, I might add), only to intercept the rounds of chocolate with the occasional handful of potato chips in order to reset the sweet-salt cycle, blogging, and uninterrupted reading.

Being 26 is... was... so freaking awesome.

Goodbye 26. As per tradition, I guess I should write one of these:

Lessons Learned in or sometime before My 27th Year of Life

1. If you think you are sick, you are sick--don't feel bad about it, just rest and recover. I maxed out my days off this past year working. Each day I took off, I felt guilty. That guilt never ever served any purpose. Sick days are for you to take when you are sick, and no, you do not get to choose when you get sick. Getting sick happens to everyone, especially when you're tired, worn out, and stressed. I had the random randomest ailment befall me, including a cough that wouldn't end which--of course!--led to a fractured rib. 

During this trip to Peru, after a 3-day trek camping and hiking inhumane altitudes, my body started to break down on me. I felt bad about retreating to the bedroom because it was my sister's last day in a Peru and I wanted it to be a good one for her. I wondered if I was being a weakling, wussily (is that a word?) choosing not to walk any longer and instead choosing to call it quits and return to our warm, comfy guesthouse bed after brunch at 11 a.m. I didn't get out of bed until approximately the same time the next day. 

And afterwards? I was spry as a happy alpaca! I was sick, I was tired, I rested, I got better. Lesson learned: you don't get to choose when you get sick; get over it, don't overthink it, and take a damn nap.

2. I, or someone I love, could very well die today, or maybe tomorrow. If I die sooner than I expect, then many of the dreams and plans I had for myself won't be realized. If I lose someone that I love... Then I just don't know what I'd do.

I can't say that there's a whole lot of profoundness and meaning that I discovered when my naïveté was yanked away and I was forced to learn that cold lesson of life. MA's death was, however, a reminder to take in what's good now. Dream for the sake of the joy of dreaming--along with the purpose of being the architect of your future. Rest days, bad teaching days, routine and mundane working days are not throwaway days. Life isn't a series of obstacles, a game to be won. Life is now. The future is unwritten; it doesn't exist. The past is for fond memories and maybe to make you a bit wiser for the present. This is all there is, though. If you think you're behind in life, you're not. You're not supposed to 'be' anywhere at a certain time in your life. Just find peace with who you are and what you do in this moment; if you can't find peace, do something about it until you do. 

3. Make a routine of eating healthy. For our household, that means making a healthy menu for the week on Saturdays, grocery shopping for fresh meat and produce on Sundays, and not eating out until at least Friday. Eat fresh, not processed. Don't be tempted by the cheapness of junk food; your health is not worth sacrificing. Don't fry when you can bake. Substitute veggies and whole grains for bread, rice, and pasta. Forgo sweetened drinks. Eat lots of yummy fruit.

4. When freaking out: be present in the present; practice mindfulness. If you ever get lost in runaway thoughts--your reasoning becomes clouded with crisscrossing doubts until even your breath has escaped your control--try practicing mindfulness. I'd never been good at meditation, but my coworker taught me about this process called 'mindfulness': don't fight your thoughts; become hyper aware of your physical surroundings and physical being. Notice what you feel--your shoes around your feet, your feet on the ground, you back to the chair--what you hear, and what you see. Allow your intrusive thoughts to come and pass without spending an extra second on any one of them. 

And so on and so on, until your thoughts have escaped or slowed to a more manageable pace. Your problems won't be solved, but you'll ideally reach a place of clarity in which you're able to keep your problems in perspective. Everything will be OK. This process has helped me in my many, many all-to-predictable panic moments as a first-year teacher.

5. Write. Or paint, or draw, or take pictures, or make music, or sculpt, or build furniture, or do whatever it is that you do that makes you you. It doesn't matter what you do; what matters is you get in touch with your creative side and produce. Don't worry about an audience. When you create, you nourish your soul. 

6. Say 'yes' to new experiences and patiently bide your time through unexpectedly less-than-enjoyable new experiences. I wish I could say that every adventure is painted with rainbows and narwhals if only you'd say yes to every opportunity that comes a-knocking, but the truth is, I've had my fair share of 'what the hell did I get myself into?' misadventures. When you dive into that international group hangout with young'ns from your hostel, the personalities are a mixed bag--some with worldly views, others with out-of-this-world-ly views. Every strange experience, regardless of how fun or boring it turns out to be, makes for a great story later.

7. Allow conversations to ramble on hours longer than expected. Ok, maybe not hours, but still, give the talkers--the strangers-turned-friends--whom you meet time to share their story. I'll always remember the guy I sat next to on the plane to whom I randomly offered an orange. He thanked me profusely, admitting that he hadn't eaten in two days; he opened up to me about his past 48 hours of getting robbed, then beaten up by a homeless guy, then picked up by police, then finally granted access by the airlines to catch his flight despite his only form of identification on his person being his scuba diving license, to his story of his lucrative company and his turning to fancy, expensive drugs, and his divorce... all of this from an orange. It was a rather entertaining 1-hour flight.

My family and closest friends think of me as a talker, and I guess I am in a way, but when I'm out in the wild meeting new people, I think most others learn very little about me. The truth is, with a few starter questions and real, genuine interest in people's stories, you can get a lot of people to open up. I can't offer much compelling justification as to why it's good to listento others' stories. Suffice to say, listening to others stories gives me inspiration, moments of compassion, and if nothing else, a good laugh every now and then.

8. Don't let FOMO* run your life; relish the occasional Netflix binge. (*FOMO = Fear Of Missing Out). I don't know why younger-me could never not be productive, or be alone, or just do nothing for a day, but present me actually needs it every few weeks. After work, after back-to-back out-of-town weekends, after weaving through crowds in bustling cities navigating various language barriers, there's nothing like diving into the Internet and scrubbing your brain clean with media garbage. Don't feel bad about it. For now, adventure is not out there. For now, adventure is in reruns of FRIENDS and gifs of cats and dogs being friends.

9. Hiking is not as hard as it sounds. I don't know about you, but before I had ever set foot in my first pair of hiking boots, I thought hiking had something to do with carrying yards of rope, scaling granite cliffs, mastering a compass and the angles of your shadow, and deciphering moss on trees. Oh, and something about binoculars. 

Then my mom moved to Hawaii and soon told me about her newfound hiking hobby. Mom? Binoculars? Something didn't make sense. When I visited her in Hawaii, she took me on one of these hikes. Oh! I discovered. Hiking is walking on not-sidewalk. Popular trails are clearly marked, sometimes have porta-potties along the way, can be as short as 30-minutes to complete, can be flat, wide, and surrounded by shade and/or breathtaking views. The more you hike, the more you learn about your own needs, like how much water to carry, what kind of shoes you like, a comfortable rhythm of walking, and how many miles you can walk at a time at what incline. Some cities/states/countries may be more rich in hiking trails than others, but if you don't hike already, give it a try. It's fun! It's healthy! It's not necessarily all that difficult! And most importantly--it's freeeeeeeeeeee.

10. Celebrate milestones. My youngest sister graduated from college this year. It was the eighth graduation I'd ever attended. It was the first graduation that ever made me feel that elated mixture of pride and joy and awe that I suppose graduations are supposed to make you feel. Her graduation made me step back and take stock of what my parents had accomplished--from both coming up from a life of hardship in the Philippines, to graduating as engineers, to moving to a foreign country, and another foreign country, and another foreign country... all to give their daughters a better life. All to see their daughters graduate college. And they did it! Mission complete. All that, plus the fact that my sisters are eye-wateringly successful for their age. Uh, yeah. Pretty awesome. 

Until that day, graduations were nothing but an embellished photo op to me. Put on a gown you borrowed from your roommates, scratch your name on a 3x5 index card, take the stage, hand the notecard over to the old white dude with the shiny scarf and poofy velvet hat, hope your name isn't butchered too badly, shake hands, smile, step off the stage. Whoopdeedoo.

Now I realize that graduation isn't about the ceremony any more than a birthday is about the cake. It's about reflecting on all that it took to get you to that moment. It's about allowing yourself to feel proud of yourself for a quick second and about being grateful for the people who support you every day. Milestones and celebrations are reminders--a chance for you and your loved ones to pause, look at each other, look around, say "mmhmm. Not bad."

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OK, I'm all out. Last year, I offered up 11 of my life lessons learned; this year, all I got is 10. The older I get, the more I realize how little I know.

Happy birthday, me! Here's to a new era of my life--my late twentieeahhhhggg I can't even say it. Ciao ciao.

11 Life Lessons I've Learned in my 26th Year of Life

A jellyfish aquarium in Yamagata Prefecture, Japan. (website)

Happy Birthday to me! What better way to celebrate a birthday than by doing something I love--blogging!

I've always dreamed of one day coming up with a manifesto for my children's children's children or my friend's friend's friend to read. I thought of one day sitting down and penning the perfect compilation of lessons learned and tentative suggestions as to how the world could be a better place, perhaps as an old lady with a full head of snow-white hair writing in pen and ink on yellowed pages in a leather-bound, encyclopedia-sized book.

Then I realized, 1) why do I visualize my future as a scene from the 1600s and 2) by the time I'm old and gray (God-willing), I'll have forgotten all of the wisdom that I had wanted to bestow unto my future readers.

So here it is, present readers: a working manifesto, now, for my 26th birthday.

11 Life Lessons I've Learned in my 26th Year of Life (in no particular order)

1. Strive for a minimalist lifestyle to reduce stress. Back when I was a mere zero through twenty-five-year-old (an infant, really), I prided myself on my thirst for maximizing, ahem, EVVVERRYTHINGGG. I thought I was being extra-terrestially productive and living life to the fullest and MORE. In reality, I was often late for engagements, if not flaky altogether. I was scatterbrained and tired. I was directing 10% of my attention to ten different things at once. While in class, I was making appointments for evening meetings. While walking to meetings, I ate dinner on-the-go. At those meetings, I reviewed flashcards for the classes that I wasn't paying attention in earlier. Life was somehow too much while being not enough. 

Now, I make one engagement per evening at most. I carefully give myself plenty of time between meetings or tasks. In that time, I clear my brain and put everything that I was just doing on pause by reading, listening to jazz music, or purposely thinking about nothing while looking out the window or people-watching while on the bus or train. I use this time to forget of any stresses from earlier and to properly focus my attention toward the next upcoming task.

I also try to cut out distractions such as open tabs in the background of my internet browser, a phone out at dinnertime, and unnecessary clutter at my work space.

For more tips on how to lead a minimalist lifestyle its benefits, read "The Simple Guide to a Minimalist Life" by Leo Babauta (pdf).

2. Best friends aren't always needed for life's memorable moments. Choose something fun to do, invite one or two people, and let everyone invite whomever they like. When I moved to Japan, I thought that I was temporarily suspending any semblance of a wild social life. I anticipated making maybe one good friend and otherwise mostly spending time by myself, reading, writing, or doing little arts and crafts. I didn't expect to make a lot of friends and didn't even know how such a thing would be possible out in rural Japan.

Instead: I went on a road trip with 3 near-strangers to climb Mt. Fuji over night; I approached and introduced myself to a group of 20-something-year-old Muslim girls in a parking lot at a national park in Malaysia and ended up climbing Mt. Kinabalu with them; I attended a BBQ at a Japanese friend's family's house with a ragtag group of foreigners, have of whom I hadn't met before; I hiked the Great Wall of China with a couple of guys who I'd met a week or less prior; I, along with new friends and friends of friends and their friends, unofficially started "foreigner day" on Thursdays at our local bouldering gym by slowly inviting more and more friends to come climb with us; I watched the sun sink into the Indian ocean off the coast of Australia with a group of locals after a hearty dinner of fish and chips; I sand-surfed in the Great Outback of Australia with other foreigners and sand-surfer newbies.

Certainly, nothing can quite compare to, say, your group of six, tight-knit friends/roommates/couple who meet at a coffee shop in New York, have been friends since high school, and laugh and cry over one friend's latest impossible slip up, sexcapade, or break up. However, you definitely do not need to constantly stick by your lifelong friends in order to have a good time and enjoy great company. You just need an open mind for meeting people and trying fun things.

3. Send your childhood best friend a long, thoughtful email. Call your mom. Send your dad a postcard. Spend a Saturday doing nothing in particular with your roommate. One day, after years of no contact, a college friend of mine randomly sent me a "Happy half-birthday, April!". It actually was my half birthday at the time. To this day, I don't know how he realized that it was my half birthday at all. I was very touched that he found an excuse to send me a message. We caught up on all that we had been doing in life--jobs we'd worked, lost, and gained in the time since we last met, places we've been, and things that still hadn't changed over the years. We even sent each other postcards since then and, when the time came up that I was looking for a place to stay, he so happened to have an apartment available for sublease.

Similarly, being so far away from home, I make it a point to call my mom at least once a week. What we talk about isn't always important--what I had for lunch that day, how the weather's been, or one of my students' latest achievements. What's important is that she knows that I'm thinking of her and that I want her to continue being a part of my life in some way.

On the flip side, is there someone in your life whom you see every day, yet don't seem to spend any quality time with? As much as Brian and I see each other and as many adventures as we seek out together, what makes our relationship strong are the days that we set aside to just be together... Our favorite "nothing" things to do are having big, hearty, homemade meals, watching comedies or heartfelt movies, and spending hours upon hours recording one acoustic cover of an overplayed pop song.

All in all, I learned how important it is to proactively maintain your relationships. It was easier to do as a kid because you lived with your family and you saw your friends every day. Now, you have to actually reach out and do something to say hello and remind someone that you care about what's going on with them. The good news is, reaching out and contacting someone takes as little as a few seconds. So, go do it! Do it now!

4. Be the most YOU that you can be; keep the friends who stick around, forget the ones who don't. As a foreigner, I often did things and got things completely wrong when it came to my interactions with my Japanese coworkers and neighbors. I took for granted all of the social capital I had accumulated when I lived in the States--namely, how to appear friendly, professional, polite, and likable.

Here, I did my best to act appropriately according to each particular social situation. Despite this, I'm sure I dropped the ball a few times, whether I knew I was messing up or not. In the end, the best I could do was just try to be happy and content on the inside and let it show on the outside. Japanese are notorious for expecting citizens to act and carry themselves in a particular way in society--that particular way was not always clear to me. Because of this, I may have driven some people away by not being quiet enough, or polite enough, or dressed up enough, and on and on. Oh well. What's more important is that I made great friends who like how loud/quiet/talkative/not talkative/active/relaxed/(fill in the blank here) I am enough as is. That's an awesome feeling. Pursue that feeling. Be you, accept the love that you receive, and forget about the love that you don't.

5. Realize that a teacher is not only about setting and meeting goals, it's also about the little interactions you have with students every day. As much as I wanted to be organized and effective in my teaching by establishing learning goals, making the content accessible to students, and periodically assessing students progress... I had to throw all of that out the window when I became an "assistant language teacher" as a foreigner in Japan because I am an outsider, teaching and learning is done differently here, power structures and one's own agency and responsibility are completely different here than in the States, and I had too many students and too many schools to properly keep track of what students were learning and struggling with.

At first, this frustrated me. A lot. I lost confidence in myself, I questioned my decision to come to Japan, I questioned my ability as a teacher, I doubted the usefulness of any of my efforts or even presence at work.

Then, last week, all of my schools had some kind of grandiose goodbye ceremony for me. It was actually quite embarrassing to be made such a big deal of, particularly because lately I hadn't felt that I'd met any of my goals of being an effective English teacher to my students.

To my surprise, many students approached after these ceremonies and on their own time to tell me about a way that I helped them or a memorable moment that they had with me. Their messages ranged from thanking me for having lunch with them one time when they were having a bad day with their friends, excitedly recounting a time in class when they correctly answered a comprehension question I asked on a San Francisco presentation I had just given (she remembered the question, answer, and type of candy that I gave her as a reward!), thanking me for meeting with them once a week for 20 minutes to have simple conversations with them in English...

None of these things that students were grateful for were things that I had planned or worked towards. They were all things that just... happened. These are the small things that actually made up my students' experience with me--not necessarily the grammar points I taught or the pronunciation practice we did. If it weren't for my students pointing these things out to me, I would have thought of my two years here as an English as a failure. I would have thought "my students still can't say this or do that, no matter how many ways I tried to teach it". Instead, I can be proud of the fact that in some way, my presence and my effort made someone's day--even if just one day--better. In a small way, I've helped in shaping a young mind's view of the world, how it works, and what the world can be in the future.

6. Speak to others in broken English/Japanese/Tagalog/Spanish/French/whatever is their native language. Know that the goal is never to prove your skill in that language;　it's to form some kind of relationship with that person as your coworker, neighbor, host, or new travel buddy or it's for you to improve at least a teensy tiny bit in that language.

My favorite moments with students was when they got creative with the English words that they did know in order to convey more complex ideas to me than "hello-how-are-you-I'm-fine-thank-you". My favorite moments when attempting to speak Japanese was when people patiently saw past my grammar mistakes and waited for me to recall more difficult words in order to carry my end of the conversation. Ultimately, I was able to bond with people across language barriers, which in turn made this little city feel more like home to me... not to mention, I was able to learn a new language from zero.

7. Count every penny, nickel, and dime to your name. Monitor your cash flow and opt for spending money on experiences rather than on things. This was my order of priorities for my monthly spending this past year:

1. Rent, utilities, groceries, transportation
2. Pay off debt
3. "Fun" fund (travel and nice dinners)
4. Save $______ per month in order to have saved $_____ by August 2014.

Of course, life doesn't always go according to plan. Other expenses come up that are more difficult to plan for--friends' birthday dinners, spontaneous treats to yourself after long, hard days, and so on. To accommodate for this, I did things like tricking myself into believing I had less money than I actually had (by rounding my monthly salary down), counting business expenditures as personal spending (so that reimbursements could later come in as "surprise" income), and budgeting for celebratory dinners towards that month's "Fun" fund.

Besides keeping track of and itemizing my cash flow, I also was frugal to a damn fault when it came to expenses on myself. I walked and biked to work instead of taking the bus. If I wasn't going out to dinner with friends, I cooked rather than eating out by myself. I then made extra for my lunch the next day. When possible, I opted for free fun activities, like hikes, BBQs, and beach outings. When traveling, I first researched a reasonable budget and kept to that budget; then, I spent hours thoroughly shopping around for budget airline flights and promotions, I opted for sleeping on people's couches, airport benches, and cheap hostels instead of hotels, and I opted for cheap local food and a paper map and personal walking tours of the city rather than fancy restaurants or expensive, comprehensive package tours.

What made saving and spending successful (in my eyes) for me was that I made it enjoyable for myself. Because I'm goal-driven, I made little goals, like "walk to or from work at least 3 times this week", "Pay XXX amount towards my student loans this month", and "end up with XXX in my bank account by next pay day" (each pay day is actually marked in my calendar and on the previous day, I've written in "have $xxx saved"). For those who are process-oriented, I recommend setting up habits like walking to work every Monday and Wednesday or putting a set amount of money into your savings account FIRST after pay day.


8. Keep your living space clean as much of the time as possible. This is important because you can have guests over at a moment's notice, your things are easier to find, and your home becomes more comfortable to relax in on the weekends and after work.

Keeping my place clean has required a bit of a mix of processes: doing small tasks daily (making my bed in the morning, picking up clutter after coming home from work, making sure that things at home are in their designated place (such as fruits in the fruit basked and not in the grocery bag on the counter)), jumping at free moments to take on bigger tasks (such as doing laundry, vacuuming, and wiping down surfaces for dust and grime), and forcing myself to deep-clean as soon just before something gets too dirty to tolerate (as opposed to tolerating soap scum or cooking grease for too long).


9. Keep up with evolving technology. I'm really lucky that I don't have your stereotypical tech-illiterate mom and dad. In fact, my dad's the one who's always bringing home new gadgets and teaching the family how to use them. My dad helped me get my first email account, taught me how to use my first smartphone, and taught me how to properly maintain my computers and online identity and personal information.

I learned to evolve the way that I consume media with technology. I love reading real, physical books as much as the next bibliophiliac, but owning a Kindle has allowed for me to read about 50 more books in two years that I've owned it than I probably would have without it. It's taught me to love reading more than loving books.

CDs and buying songs one by one on iTunes are out, in my opinion. I use music-streaming stations almost exclusively to not only enjoy music I love, but to learn about new music and try out other genres of music.

Journaling is great, beautiful, and fun, but typing up notes and entries on any computer or smart device and uploading it into a cloud is even better. There's no excuse to skip jotting down moments of inspiration because you don't have a pen or paper handy and your notes are never scattered or lost.

Don't pay for comprehensive cable packages if there's another way to get just the TV shows that you like. I use Netflix, networks own streaming websites, or own or rent series that have come out on DVD.

Whenever you have a question that no one around you can help you with, think first of how the internet can answer your question. Seriously. One of my aunties once told me in passing that she's always wanted to bake cookies, but doesn't know how. I Googled "Nestle Tollhouse Chocolate Chip Cookies Recipe" and sent that to her. I used Youtube and hobbyists blogs to learn how to maintain my garden. I research hiring manager advice and resume samples whenever I apply for a new job. For travel advice to remote countries and towns, I posted questions in online forums and as questions on travel blogs. I found plenty of books that I had wanted to read for free and in their entirety uploaded as ebooks and PDFs.

I remember in college, when the last in our group of friends got a smartphone. He said "from now on, no more questions. We only speak in statements." He was joking of course, but it reminded me that few facts need remained unchecked and few scientific curiosities need remained unanswered. When you want to learn about something or how to do something, assume first that the answer is at your fingertips until proven otherwise.


10. Be punctual and don't be flaky. I can't give any tips or shortcuts on how to be punctual or dependable short of saying "just do it". Be strict with yourself. Give yourself extra time in preparing to go out; plan for traffic or not being able to find a parking spot; don't try to squeeze too many tasks in before your planned time to meet someone. If you start to feel lazy to go out and honor an arrangement, kick yourself in the butt and meet them anyway. Make it a goal to have near 100% followed commitments rather than making it a goal to have as many planned social outings as possible. It's more important to say no to your friend for drinks on Friday night if it means being able to commit to your previously planned Saturday morning hike with your other friend than to try to do both and end up flaking on one of those friends. Also, in Japan, often the only excuse for cancelling plans or staying home from work is because someone has a fever. Don't have a fever? Don't have a sick child or grandmother with a fever? Then follow through with your commitment.


11. Iron your clothes, dress appropriately, comb your hair, and wash your face for work. Seeing as how I arrived in Japan at the earliest time in my working career, I don't know if all of the above is specific to Japan or of it's specific to appearing professional at work. All I know is, before coming to Japan, I almost never ironed, I wore my hair in pony tails, I rarely wore makeup, and I did not wear a skirt or slacks every day.

I quickly became very self-conscious of how everyone around me looked ready to teach and I looked ready to run out to the grocery store to grab milk before settling in on the couch in front of the TV with a bowl of cereal.

Back home in California, more people may try and even succeed in getting away with the T-shirt and rumpled jeans look, but why not dress up a little? Here, huge emphasis is placed on dressing appropriately and dressing well (when I asked students what they thought of the old adage "don't judge a book by its cover", many students disagreed, saying that appearance is very important for judging one's character). I don't believe that one should be judged by how professionally they are dressed and I don't think that Americans judge based on one's attire as frequently or as harshly as Japanese do. That being said, there's no harm in dressing up a little and keeping your appearance clean and tidy. I feel better, older, more experienced, composed, powerful, and attractive when I don my working-woman skirt, blouse, heels, and makeup.

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Alright folks, that's all I got for ya. I was hoping hammer out a nice, rounded 26-Life-Lessons list for my 26th birthday, but the reality is, I'm not that wise yet.

Here's to many more years of big and little failures, epiphanies, great fun, and new and healthy relationships.