I don’t normally blog about things so soon after they happen, but sometimes a song like Rihanna’s “Work” will follow you and your homie for an entire night. The DJ will play it multiple times at the after-party, it will come on once or twice in two different Ubers, and again at your last stop of the evening, the Plaid Pantry, where you buy Cheddar & Sour Cream Ruffles–which you have not done since your mid-twenties! But, you were out on a Saturday night, which doesn’t really

If you asked my twenty-something-year-old self if I would be reading books and articles on leadership management, or company culture, or racial equity in the workplace with the same voracious appetite I once devoured the Pulitzer Prize winning novel by Junot Diaz, The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao – I’d say, “you’re fucking crazy, and you don’t know me at all.” If you told me that I’d be spending my precious down-time hours, reading books like Smarter, Faster, Better:

My introduction to Theresa Hak Kyung Cha was a black and white video of a mouth forming inaudible words over bird song and bubbling water, coming through a screen of white-static. A spirit. A premonition. Something unsettling. It reminded me of the ghost stories my mom used to tell me – that she still believes, and that I don’t deny. Growing up Asian in America, there was always the touch of the supernatural, a world of benevolent ghosts, but also of ghosts that punish and ha

DeFeo and The Deathrose. Photo credit: Burt Glinn Last summer I went to New York City, and I found my refuge from the humidity in the New York Public Library, under the shades of trees in Central Park, and in various art galleries. The Whitney Museum of American Art was where I approached Jay DeFeo’s The Rose–in the way I do with most contemporary art pieces: confused and intrigued by the perceived irrelevance of it. I was drawn in by the vulgarity and stature. The Rose, at n

*Please note that what's playing on our Soundcloud is Alt-J covering Bill Wither's "Lovely Day." For the original version, click HERE. Bill Wither’s “Lovely Day” on the Menagerie album came out in 1977. I was born in 1984, and the first time I heard Wither’s soulful refrain was in 2005: “just one look at you / and I know it’s gonna be / a lovely day / lovely day, lovely day, lovely day…” in the home of a boy I was just getting to know; a boy that I would spend the next eight

Fact: Portland, Oregon is the whitest major city in the United States according to The Washington Post and confirmed by the U.S. Census Bureau. On the evening of Saturday, September 19, 2015 at 8:30 pm, a predominantly white audience gathered under white flood lights in the small stark room of Bodyvox Dance studio, complete with white drapes and white floor, to watch Dana Michel’s black body shuffle, writhe, stutter, and groan in her performance titled, “Yellow Towel” as part

A couple weeks ago, I wrote a piece titled, “Disney & Cheese.” The important part of the reflection was that it tapped into a deeper curiosity of why the second wave of Disney princesses from the 90’s–Ariel, Belle, Jasmin, Pocahontas, and Mulan, despite the apparent sexism, lack of cultural sensitivity, and appropriation–still bring up such enjoyable moments of nostalgia, and what that might mean for growing up and being a grown up. I want to note, that I’m purposely leaving

First, I must admit that I’m drafting this piece from the Columbia Gorge with an upset stomach that has lasted over 24 hours, self-inflicted by eating too much good ice cream, followed by too much bad cheese at a Mexican restaurant. Today is Day Two. Since yesterday, I’ve barely been able to eat anything at all. If you think these kinds of eating impulses are reserved for kids, I’ve proven that even thirty-one year-olds can make poor judgments in the face of dairy. I spent mo

Recently, while I was in New York, and Matt (Matthew D. Kulisch) was in San Diego—I emailed him a link about how we could, for $10 each, join a live Jedi vs. Sith lightsaber battle in Washington Square Park. My subject line read, “aren’t you sad you’re not with me in New York City right now?” That innocent and playful email ended up spurring up a larger conversation about grief and friendship, travelling, internal space or lack-there-of, and love. Then in a post-post email, M

A year ago, I watched the documentary, Cutie and the Boxer, about the tumultuous marriage of artists Noriko and Ushio Shinohara. Since then, first-time director Zachary Heinzerling has won the 2013 Sundance Film Festival award for best director, and was nominated for a 2014 Oscar in documentary film. The Oscar nomination, as noted by the New York Times awards season blogger, Larry Rohter, “…is a bit of an outlier in the feature documentary category […] it focuses not on uphea