Dan Kang

Mother’s Day Without Mother

Childhood

“She’s too tired to talk right now.”

This was the reason week after week why I couldn’t talk to my mom on the phone. I was living with my uncle’s family in the States, and my mom was somewhere in Korea dying from breast cancer. By the time the excuses started flowing, she was already dead and I was oblivious.

A couple months later, we’re all sitting cross-legged in the middle of my grandpa’s senior home apartment in La Mirada, and I’m bawling my eyes out. My dad had just announced the news that my mother had passed away, which hit me like a ton of bricks, and noticeably missed most others as I was one of few shedding tears. Everyone else had known for a while now.

Teenage years

Every day is some variation of waking up to my grandma yelling at me that I’m late for school, eating my grandma’s home-cooked Korean meals (and once in a while finding a stray hair resting on top of the fluffy white rice), and listening to her singing praise songs and clapping next to the dinner table after finishing her daily session of copying down Bible verses.

My grandma has been my mother for nearly a decade and is recognized as such not just by me but also by the US government. My legal adoption to my grandparents is complete, and my fun fact — my birth father is my legal brother — is born.

Young adulthood

Grandma dies due to a weak heart and a host of other problems. I wish I could say that she died peacefully, but the last months of her life had been nothing but discomfort and frankly, suffering. I had moved away from home, away from my grandma, to San Francisco only a week prior.

Two days before Mother’s Day

“What are you doing for Mother’s Day?”

I don’t know how to answer her, the cute girl with blue eyeliner raising money for Greenpeace next to Barnes and Noble. I don’t want to let her know that this will be the first year in which there is no one to celebrate, well there is, but she’s six feet under. I hem and haw for a while because I don’t want to drop this heavy emotional bomb on this unsuspecting stranger who probably thinks she’s asking an innocent question that will make for some polite conversation. I tell her the truth. She doesn’t apologize for the next 20 minutes which so many people are prone to do after hearing the news of death. I appreciate that. She shares that her dad also died this past October, he from a brain aneurysm. My Mother’s Day will be her Father’s Day, and I feel for her.

One day before Mother’s Day

My sister, my grandpa, and I drive over to Rose Hill, where my grandma had been buried just 7 months prior. We have some trouble finding her grave, but we eventually find it. We say our greetings to the air, leave some pink roses in the hole in front of her plaque (which apparently cost a bit extra to install), and sit around for bit talking about grandma and admiring other graves with small fences and entire gardens. Grave envy is a real thing.

Mother’s Day 2013

Facebook and Instagram are exploding with cute pictures of people and their moms. It’s weird not having anyone to buy flowers for, not having anyone to kiss on the cheek, not having anyone to wish “Happy Mother’s Day!”

My sister and I look inside the crowded Starbucks, exchanging joking-but-not-really-joking comments that all these people should go home to their mothers so that we can take the table adjacent to the door that has an outlet right next to it. We clearly deserve this table because everyone has mothers at home and we do not. We are owed.

The powers that be hear our cries for justice and a couple minutes later, the table opens up.

My High School Graduation Speech

Despite not being valedictorian, I gave a speech at my high school’s graduation. Here it is.

The Secret Ingredients of High School 

Now that we’re finally sitting here, we can take the time to look back on the last four years and thank the ones who mean the most to us. Without them, we wouldn’t be here today. They worked hard to put food on the table. They provided comfort in our greatest moments of distress. They gave us hope when our worlds were falling apart. That’s right, I’m talking about the good folks down at Chipotle.

In many ways, going through high school is like making a burrito. The tortilla – it’s the school itself. It holds everything together, and the burrito just wouldn’t be possible without it. The beans are the classes we take – whether you choose black or pinto, you’re still going to experience some discomfort and suffering, if you know what I mean. But in the end, they provide the fiber and protein we need to grow stronger and smarter. The administrators make up the lettuce. Many of us might not like those green veggies, but they know what’s best for us. And now, onto the important stuff– the meat. That serving of sizzling chicken, steak, or carnitas that melts in your mouth is what really defines the burrito. What’s the single most essential part of the high school experience? It’s the friends and connections you make. If nothing else, you’ll always have the companions who made high school enjoyable. They’re the ones who secretly brought you melon flavored ice cream and shaved ice in a cup when you were sick at home. They’re the ones with whom you’re going to celebrate when the Lakers win tonight. Vegetarians may disagree, but for me, a burrito without meat would just not be worth eating.

Many of us chose to participate in extracurriculars such as sports and clubs. That’s the guacamole. It’s completely optional and costs a bit extra, but it fills that special craving and makes the sacrifices worthwhile. If you like keeping things a bit spicy, there’s always salsa. We’re all going to miss the zesty school dances and how math class would be interrupted because some guy wanted to sing “Hey, Soul Sister” to ask a girl to prom. Add some Tabasco sauce, and you get all the gossip, drama, and backstabbing that really sets your tongue and emotions on fire. But it’s all a part of the experience. Another ingredient that can’t be forgotten: corn. That sweet, juicy goodness just can’t be found in any other ingredient. The corn is the bond of love and friendship that unites us all together. Oh, I’m sorry. Was that too… corny? And the cheese – it’s our beloved teachers who teach us the infamous graph dance, make us delicious pancakes, tell us about their newborn son, and give us overly generous deadlines on Turnitin.com. They toil day and night so we can become better individuals and the leaders of tomorrow. Oh, wait a second. Was that too… cheesy? And with this, our burrito is complete. Now that we are finished with high school, we can finally sit down and unravel the foil covering our steaming burrito. And when you take a bite of the tortilla, beans, meat, salsa, corn, cheese, and lettuce together? Oh man. That mind-blowing flavor is what really makes Troy High School unforgettable. Thank you.

Alright, time for some reflection and to recall memories from that day.

• Right before the speech, I asked a friend to bring me a burrito from Chipotle so I can eat it on stage right after giving the speech. Sadly, I have no recollection of whether I did or not.
• During that first paragraph, I saw a ton of students roll their eyes and slump into their seats because they thought I was going to talk about how awesome our parents are. I got ‘em good.
• The corny and cheesy parts got good laughs, thank goodness.
• I’m still obsessed with Chipotle.
• I actually completely forgot about rice as an ingredient during the entire time I thought of, wrote, and gave this speech. Someone told me afterward that the rice should have been the sea of Asian students at Troy.
• The line “Vegetarians may disagree, but for me, a burrito without meat would just not be worth eating” is especially funny now because I no longer eat meat. Chipotle is still delicious.

Photo credit: bubbletea1

A Short Chapter

Let’s start with the bad news. My work with the fundraising agency ended today because I didn’t meet my quota during my 5-day evaluation period.

I have mixed feelings. On one hand, I’m disappointed that I wasn’t wildly successful with this job as it’s one that I found very interesting. I wish there were ways to figure out what I could’ve done differently, but it’s very hard to get feedback on why people don’t stop to talk or aren’t convinced after talking with me. I also suspect that looking as young as I do isn’t exactly helpful for persuading people to part with their money. Mostly, I’m bummed out that I won’t be able to further cultivate friendships with all the cool people that I’ve worked with so far. The agency is filled with all sorts of interesting people: an ex-Marine who is in love with traveling, a talented musician who makes amazing house music, a “life of the party” kind of guy who rolls his own cigarettes, a very personable guy with a passion for playing in a band and producing films, an intelligent girl who’s destined to do big things with nonprofits (she also has eyes that can melt you like butter) — the list goes on. You can imagine that people who voluntarily choose to talk to other people all day tend to be more interesting than not. I’m glad that I got to know a few of these characters well enough that I know we’ll hang out in the future, but working with them and the others for a bit longer would have been nice.

On the other hand, I think I’ve experienced most of what canvassing has to offer for my personal growth. Canvassing is an emotionally stimulating job with very little intellectual stimulation. I’m sure that if you actively tried to apply psychological concepts to your work you would be able to tax your mind a bit, but even then you would use your people skills a lot more than your analytical skills. This is not to knock canvassers in any way, but canvassing is a repetitive job that you can get a good feel for in a couple full days of work. Sure, you move to a different location and talk with different kinds of people, but you mostly do the same exact thing in just different places. I’ve become a lot more comfortable at trying to get a stranger’s attention and asking them for money (for a good cause, of course). I’m sure that I would be able to hone my people skills a lot more if I were to stay on for a couple more months, but the “shock” of this job has worn off and I’m happy with the progress I’ve made. Canvassing for a week was an entirely positive and rewarding experience.

Now it’s time to think look forward. What comes next?

I have many options in mind, and I’ve decided that no matter what, I’m going to travel for a while outside of the States. I’m still not sure when I’d like to embark on that adventure and whether I’d like to try a couple more non-tech jobs in the city that would will help me grow as a person. I’m thinking of waiting tables and seeing how I like that. It’s definitely strange looking for jobs not in terms of pay but in terms of how much I can learn and take away from the experience; it makes me feel like an impostor or an undercover journalist in a way. I’m extremely fortunate that I even have the luxury to view jobs in this way.

With one chapter ending, another one begins.

Photo credit: wiesmann

A New Chapter

When I first decided to come to San Francisco, I planned on programming all day, meeting entrepreneurs, and maybe even joining a startup. Well, those plans are on hold.

Today was my first day of working with a fundraising agency that teams up with nonprofits to help them raise money. As there is a blogging policy that I have yet to become familiar with, I’m going to omit both the agency’s name and the nonprofit we are currently representing just to be on the safe side for now.

I’m really excited about this job, because it will give me an opportunity to spend my time working for a good cause, indulge my favorite hobby of talking to strangers, and get paid for doing so. What more could I ask for? Despite the fact that I don’t really need the money, having some positive cashflow instead of watching my savings slowly bleed away will be a welcome change.

I ended up with the job due to random encounters with one of the fundraising managers at the agency. I originally met her on my way to Target, where she disarmed me with a friendly smile and talked to me about the nonprofit. When the topic of donating came up, I told her that I was trying to save money since I was living off of my savings. She asked me if I was looking for a job, to which I cocked my head, thought for a bit, and replied that I didn’t want one right now. Understandably, she was quite puzzled. I decided on the spot that this might be a fun gig to do for a while, so I passed along my info and the rest is history. (Actually, there was some kind of miscommunication and I really didn’t get any information until I happened to run into her again, but that part really isn’t that interesting.)

One aspect of this job that I’m looking forward to is experimenting with different ideas to see which tactics are most effective in getting people to donate. I love social psychology, and I’m going to read up on the science of giving and try to figure out the best ways to apply our understanding of the human mind in order to convince more people to give to a good cause. Maybe starting a conversation out with a genuine compliment will open people up to helping others. Or maybe it’ll backfire by making them think that I’m being disingenuous and cause them to be more closed off. Since I’ll be working in the field 30 hours a week, I’ll have plenty of chances to try A/B tests and find out what works and what doesn’t.

Entering the world of fundraising after having worked only in tech is already proving to be a very eye-opening experience. Although there have been some significant technological advances in fundraising, there is still much, much room for improvement. Systems can be a lot faster; data input methods can be much more streamlined; more data can and should be captured. In the technology world, data is king; every action taken by every visitor to a website is tracked and extensively analyzed. I wish that there existed a Google Analytics for donation solicitations where I can easily view how likely 18-20 year old white males are likely to donate on a sunny day at 2 in the afternoon as opposed to their female counterparts so I can optimize my time accordingly.

Although my new job will not help me become a better programmer, I know I’ll develop important people skills that will help me better understand humans which in turn will hopefully make me a better thinker, communicator, and most importantly, a better person. While I know I won’t make a career out of this job since my passion always will be in using technology to create products that improve people’s lives, I’m looking forward to seeing how much I’ll grow through this experience. Onward.

Pale Blue Dot

Today I want to share my desktop background with you.

The name of the image above is “Pale Blue Dot” and it was taken by a spacecraft in 1990 from a distance of 3.7 billion miles from Earth. If you want to learn more about the image and Carl Sagan’s extremely eloquent reflections on it, check out this Wikipedia article.

Look closely at that image. In the upper right quadrant, you’ll see a small dot in the orangish beam. That’s Earth. That’s you. That’s me. That’s us. That’s all of our problems. That’s all of human history.

I love looking at this picture because it really puts our lives into perspective; you begin to realize just how utterly small and insignificant we are in the scheme of the entire universe.

One of my hopes for the near future is that the technology for space travel will significantly advance to the point where it’ll be safe and affordable for everyday civilians to view Earth from outside Earth just as astronauts have. I think the world would be a better place if people could see that we’re truly all in this together. It’s too easy to lose sight of that.

The Secret to Waking Up Early

Waking up early is an amazing feeling. You’re up before or around sunrise, you can get things done before other people are even awake, and you can take some time to meditate, read, take a walk, or exercise before getting on with your day. Having a great start to your morning really sets the mood for the rest of the day.

Growing up, I struggled immensely with waking up early. I would get into fights with my grandma and my homestay lady (this is a whole another story) because of my inability to wake myself up. I would wake up late to classes and end up missing them entirely because by the time I could get ready, class would already be over. I would sometimes wake up after noon and feel absolutely terrible because it seemed that the day had already passed me by.

I tried to solve my problem by searching out different tactics for waking up. I bought the loudest alarm clock I could find on Amazon with a vibrating component but slept right through them. I still owe my dorm roommate an apology for waking him up countless times with my alarm clock while I slept on like a rock. Once, I had to be violently shaken so that I wouldn’t sleep through my school’s fire alarm. True story. I even tried consuming large amounts of water so that I would wake up due to the need to pee. This didn’t work very reliably, and I’m very lucky that I didn’t end up accidentally wetting my bed in adulthood. 

None of the methods I tried worked, and I looked for ways to shorten the amount of time that I needed to sleep. I envied people who could thrive off of 4 hours of sleep a night and looked for ways to trick my body into doing the same. I looked into unconventional sleep cycles like sleeping for a couple hours during the night and sleeping for a couple hours during the day, etc., but the evidence for their effectiveness seemed too lacking.

Recently, I started waking up at 7am on a consistent basis and have been able to reap all the benefits of getting up with the sun. I finally discovered the secret to waking up early. Here it is:

Go to sleep early.

You are most likely quite disappointed with my secret. After all, it’s nothing special and something you already know. But it’s important to acknowledge that the simplest solution is quite often the right one. Finally coming to terms with the fact that my body needs 7-8 hours of sleep every night and no special tactic will magically change that was a real game-changer for me, because it made me face reality and stop looking for shortcuts.  Whenever I want to get up early the next morning, I force myself to go to sleep at a decent hour even if that means ending my chat sessions short or not finishing the article I was reading. The best part of it all is that unlike chugging a ton of water before hitting the hay, this tactic works every single time.

Lessons from a Fire Escape

Look at the picture above. What do you see?

For the entire first month living in my apartment, I saw a window, a latch, and a view of the street below. When a friend in the building mentioned that he climbs up to the roof occasionally, I told him I wanted to try it but didn’t see how I could. It was only after this conversation that I noticed something out the window I hadn’t seen before: a fire escape.

It was strange, seeing something that I could’ve sworn had not been there the past hundred times that I had glanced out my window. Of course, the metal deck and railing had not appeared overnight; I had just simply overlooked it. I’m not surprised I did, because I had no immediate need for a fire escape and could have easily continued using my living space normally without noticing it.

These days, I climb out my window and up the fire escape onto the roof every day. It’s absolutely exhilarating to stand next to the edge and overlook the city. Sometimes I go up to tan, sometimes I go up to think, sometimes I go up just because I can. Here’s a quick photo I snapped earlier:

It’s interesting to think about what would’ve happened if I had never found out about the possibility of climbing up to the roof or if I had never noticed the fire escape. I obviously wouldn’t know what I’d be missing, but that doesn’t change the fact that I truly would be missing out on a fantastic experience.

A lot of opportunities in life are the same way. I only started to entertain the idea of taking a year off from Princeton after I talked to someone who had already gone through the experience. It was at that point that I looked up more about it, found out that Princeton has an extremely lenient policy in letting students take time off, and decided to take the leap. I’ve already benefitted immensely from this decision, but it was an opportunity that wasn’t obvious to me when I was attending school. I honestly believe that a lot more students should seriously consider if the option of taking a year off could be right for them; most people don’t give it a second’s worth of thought because doing anything other than finishing school in four years would be off the beaten path.

By doing things the “normal” way, we’re susceptible to overlooking opportunities that have the potential to change our lives in an immense way. My experience with the fire escape has made me aware of my unawareness, and I’m putting more conscious effort into not overlooking rewarding opportunities. Training oneself to be more aware is quite difficult though — I just may need someone to bop me on the head and tell me that climbing up the fire escape is a great idea.

When I Inevitably Die

First things first: If I’m ever brain-dead or in a persistent vegetative state, don’t keep my body alive. I don’t want anybody wasting their time and money.

Now that we have that out of the way, I want to declare some wishes for what I hope will take place after I die. Of course, none of these things could happen and I won’t care in the slightest, not even a little bit. Being dead is great in that way.

My funeral should be a celebration of my life. I know this is the goal of funerals in general, but I seriously disagree with how these “celebrations” are usually carried out. No celebration should have a sermon in the middle that puts everyone to sleep. I want people to smile, laugh, and sincerely have a good time. If you come dressed in black and wail, you’re automatically kicked out of my funeral. Go wail outside.

The celebration should start with a slideshow of my life. Hopefully my sister will still be alive because she’s most familiar with my most embarrassing moments. She knows where to find the picture of my 4-year-old self wearing my sister’s pink dress and the one of me as a baby sitting on the couch seriously looking like an overgrown potato. All these pictures of me with terrible haircuts and outfits should make it in there too.

Oh, and videos. Growing up, my sister took videos of me doing awesome things like rapping about life and philosophy and beatboxing and miming. These videos should give you a glimpse into how I became the incredible person that I am today.

After the presentation, there should be an open mic where people can come up and share their favorite memories of me or share something incredibly stupid that I said one time. People should be able to say whatever they want. If you want to come up and say, “DK was a giant asshole and I’m glad he got mauled by a bear”, go ahead. Anything goes.

At first, I wanted my funeral to be open casket so that everyone can observe me in all my dead glory, but I probably won’t be able to do this since I want to donate my body to science. If my body is still intact and useful for research, I want my body to be donated and my funeral to be held after the body has been cremated and the ashes have been returned. That way, everyone who comes to my funeral can get a small goodie bag with my ashes so that they can snort it or whatever when they go home. Actually, please don’t snort me. Throw me into the winds when you go traveling so that my remains can be dispersed all over the world. That sounds awesome. Just make sure you’re not standing directly downwind so that what’s left of my body doesn’t end up in your mouth. I’m not Jesus.

If my body is unable to be donated to science for whatever reason, I want to have an open casket funeral with my body completely unaltered. I want to be displayed wearing the clothes that I had on when I died, or alternatively wearing no clothes if I died from a heart attack while furiously masturbating in the shower. Okay, I’ll allow a suit if I die naked. For the children.

If none of the above requests can be fulfilled, at least feed the guests delicious food so that they have something to be happy about. Oh, and please no sermon.