My dad and I drove seven hours up the coast from LA to SF on Sunday, during which time: he gave me advice on making friends in a new city (maybe I should actually go out on Fridays?), we bought buckets of drive-through soda to stave off the 110° heat, and I found out that my dad can rap the first full three minutes the old-school funk classic, “Rapper’s Delight.”
We made the drive so that my dad could visit me, and so that we could cap off the summer by watching the LA Dodgers play the San Francisco Giants. It was more than a game — the victor of this match would settle, at least for a night, the grave and virulent debate of which is the superior half of California.
My roommate and I were watching TV when a nightclub scene came on. All of a sudden, she made this disgusted face and said, “That’s, like, my worst nightmare! It’s dark and crowded, and there’s no boba.” I love my roommate.
If you know me personally, you already know that I’m not about that club life. On a Friday after work, I would much prefer slipping on some fuzzy socks and catching up on TV. And if you do like to go hard, or if you fall somewhere in between, that’s awesome, too! This series is still for you.
You get a wealth of advice in the time after college – from family, commencement speeches, blogs written from a 20-something perspective (you know the type). And while I value everything I’ve heard, somehow, this advice has resonated most.
The scene: a sticky summer’s day in New York City. I was a rising senior in college, ambitious but unsure about what, exactly, I wanted out of life.
It’s more of a beginning-of-the-year for me than January is. School supplies, the elegant transition to fall, cinnamon and persimmons. (As Tom Hanks’s character in You’ve Got Mail marvels: “Don’t you love New York in the fall? It makes me want to buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address.”)
Septembers are studious and ripe with renewed possibility.
Of course, I probably feel this way because up until this point in my life, my goals have revolved around the school year: get good grades, read a gajillion books, learn a ton.
And for the first time, I don’t have a school to go back to this year. I get to read, learn, and strive for whatever I decide. How appropriate that a new blog, and a slew of new projects I hope to share with you soon, has been born in September.
So welcome to my blog! Here’s to a month of creating new things and asking daring questions.
What are your thoughts on September? If you’re a new post-grad, how do you feel about this moment?
It’s good to be back in my blog happy place writing book reviews, and even better to be writing about this book.
Angie Thomas’s debut novel has received abundant critical praise; it’s held its ground on the New York TimesYoung Adult bestseller list since it came out in February. And because this is YA and you were wondering, casting for the movie adaptation is already underway.
I’m thrilled to add my thoughts on the book that I hope will be a cultural touchstone that defines this generation of new YA and, more importantly, YA readers.
I have this theory that your bookshelf is a portrait of who you are, particularly if you bought a lot of books growing up. Study your bookshelf closely enough and you can trace the ideas that compelled you at different point in your life.The seven volumes of Harry Potter captured my imagination between the ages of five and thirteen. There’s the Eragon series from my 5th grade dragon phase, those tomes that only Comparative Literature majors read, and some poetry that I thought was good when I was sixteen but now find extremely questionable.
My bookshelf reveals the meandering path I’ve taken to build an understanding of the world. And if you’re also like me, the majority of my bookshelves was occupied by books written by white authors. It’s not a totally bad thing. I truly value some of those books – even from a white, European perspective, they could touch on some universalities that I felt as an Asian American girl. But my bookshelf also revealed my blind spots: there was little that I knew about Black, Latinx, Native American, LGBTQ+, and disability experiences. I didn’t even come across an Asian American protagonist until I was seventeen, and I didn’t read a FilAm protagonist until I was 20!
The disparities on my bookshelf have less to do with conscious choices than subconscious biases, the lack of diversity in the publishing industry, the systemic barriers to entry for authors of color, and the dominance of a straight-white-male literary canon that is taught and valued in American high schools.
Since college, I’ve made it a point to diversify my bookshelf and deepen my understanding of stories that aren’t my own (after all, reading diversely is an act of resistance). Here are the 10 diverse books that helped shape my understanding of perspectives outside my own:
(P.S. If you haven’t caught up on the first post of this series, read it here!)
Every “first day of –” in my life has been accompanied by the pre-rollercoaster sensation. Maybe you’ve felt it before, too: I’m next in line for a rollercoaster, and all of a sudden panic and excitement flutter in the pit of my stomach. I wonder if it’s too late to escape – from a new school, an internship, or the ride that seemed chill until I heard the screaming from up close.
Plan your escape routes no more! For this week’s Work It, Christine and I pooled advice from our first week of work – she at a law firm, and me in tech – to help you make the most of those thrilling first days.
There is little I can say about Charlottesville, and the events that have unfolded since, that hasn’t already been said more eloquently, by wiser people than me. When a mob of white supremacists attempt to negate the human life and dignity of entire populations, and when people in power condone hatefulness, it’s hard not to let the waves sorrow, anger, hopelessness, and disillusionment erode you.
You shouldn’t stop yourself from feeling whatever it is you’re feeling. But when you’re ready, there are small steps you can take to heal and resist. And one of the most meaningful ways to resist is to read books by diverse authors.
Confession: I stopped updating the blog for two full weeks while my boyfriend was visiting me. (You haven’t noticed because the blog hasn’t launched yet.) I decided that since this was the last time he and I would see each other for a while, I wanted to spend my time with him fully and with a degree of privacy.
So there’s a lacuna on the blog where 2 extremely eventful weeks of life had been – which brings me to reflect on the blog/life disparity.
Not to perpetuate a stereotype or anything, but summers growing up in Southern California were amazing. With the ocean a quick drive away and warm nights in Los Angeles, there was always a wealth of fun, carpe diem-y things to do. Summer was a sparkler – bright, ardent, and fading fast.