The Player that Never Was

I had started hearing about him before the season started. There was a buzz from the parents and current players that he had huge potential. “P_____ started playing club ball at 10 years old.” As a coach, I pretty much took any such information with a grain of salt. Parents have a tendency to over exaggerate things, even if it doesn’t have to deal with their own children. By this time in my career with Mills High School, I had already taken the team from the very bottom of the league into a few winning seasons. I was comfortable in my role and with my players, but figured any help I got was an added bonus.

P____ was tall for his age. Gangly with a clean shaven head and a lackadaisical gait.  I had been hearing all the hype surrounding him but knew he was yet untested and unproven. I was holding early summer tryouts and joked around with the returning boys about how they looked out of shape. The early season tryouts are usually the most grueling and it is easy to trim the fat and thin the herd within the first few sessions. I have always liked these first few weeks because it tests the character of the boys, especially with the kids on the bubble.

P____ stuck it out and made it through the first few weeks of conditioning without a hitch. While outside of the water he was shy and withdrawn, in the water he was a natural. His love for competition and physical exertion were apparent and he put it upon himself to outshine every member of the varsity team. While still a freshman, he was able to help take the team 9-5 on the strength of his shooting abilities which led us toward the top of the rankings in the Ocean Division. I would be remiss to say that I saw his addition to my team through purely selfish reasons. I knew that players like P____ didn’t come often, I had never coached a player at his skill level. He was a golden ticket for my coaching career and my team, like finding a four leaf clover.

I should have seen the warning signs earlier. P____ helped us win games which garnered him favor among the older kids. They started invited him to parties and once or twice I definitely knew that he was coming into Saturday morning practice hungover. I knew I should have said something then, but I didn’t think anything bad would come of it. I stuck to the adage that “boys will be boys”.

I told myself that the first time I had gotten drunk was when I was 14 as well. During my sophomore year of high school, I had gone over my friend J_____’s house while his parents were out of town and we split a fifth of vodka.  I told myself that it wasn’t my job to control any of the boy’s social lives as long as they didn’t come to practice stoned or drunk. I knew what it was like to be young once also and I didn’t want to be the one to come down hard on anyone. I kept this lie to myself even though I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do because we were winning games and that was what mattered at the time.

During P_____’s sophomore year he got an early acceptance letter from UCLA. He already had scouts looking at him and I wanted to make sure that he kept up his production numbers and that I gave him the best shot possible to play college ball. He still had holes in his game which we were working on, but nevertheless he stood out among the pack. Other coaches and refs would often come up to me after games and laud over P_____’s ability and natural talent. “Boy’s got a cannon on him.” I would smile and nod and tell myself that I would take his athletic career as far as it would go. We finished P_____’s sophomore season 13-1 and tied for first place in the Ocean Division. With the finish we were able to move up into the Bay Division against top ranked teams such as Menlo and Menlo-Atherton, powerhouses which produced a litany of college bound athletes.

P_____’s accomplishments also translated towards my own coaching career. I cold emailed the Stanford Water Polo Club director after P_____’s first year and asked him for an interview. Mills has historically been the punching bag of the water polo world and based on the merits of my record in the last few years, I got hired straight away and started coaching some of the elite talent athletes in Northern California. In truth, I’ve always had my own insecurities about being a coach. Water polo is a white collar sport dominated by rich white men who often saw little in the way of an Asian coach. I had set out years ago against the stereotype of the weak Asian male and I had to fight and claw my way for everything I had earned and yet to prove.

 Since I never played college ball, I knew that what I lacked as a player would have to be learned through being around other top level coaches. It was a grueling winter with long commutes from SF to Silicon Valley every other day while attending graduate school, but it was a sacrifice which would translate into experience and knowledge for the future.

I coached through the winter session and the summer Junior Olympics of the 2014 year. I looked forward to the first Mills season in the Bay Division. As always, we started the year with early summer tryouts and workout sessions. The team looked solid and I told them that this year would be a huge test. During one of these early workouts I pulled P_____ aside for a chat about his career and his own future. His mom had recently told me that he had transferred from Mills to Middle College, which is a scholastic program which caters to High School students who want to finish their GED while in a collegiate setting. Despite not being a part of the Mills student body, P_____ was still able to practice and compete with the team.

“How are you feeling?”

“I am good coach, just trying to finish school and keep my grades up.”

“I heard that you left Mills.”

“Yeah, I started at Middle College. I didn’t want to deal with anymore of the bullshit here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just…” he comtemplated his answer “I just wanted to get away from here. I don’t want to deal with any more of the drama.”

“Well, maybe getting out of here will be good for you. You still trying to play college ball?”

He hesitated. “I mean yeah, that’s still the plan.”

“We’ve got to work on your passing and defense. The teams in the Bay Division are going to start doubling up on you and you’ve got to spread the ball around.”

“I know coach.”

The energy and exuberance he had shown as a freshman was gone. He seemed to have aged 5 years in a summer. He was tired and grew deep furrows on his brow, he seemed a different kid, a different player. It felt like he was merely going through the motions in practice. We were able to win our first three games, but I knew something else was lurking deeper at P____. He often showed up late to practice, he sometimes didn’t show up at all. And then one day I received a text from him:

“Sorry coach, but I don’t think I’m going to do water polo anymore. My hearts not in it. Thank you for everything.”

I talked to his mom on the phone later that day after practice. She seemed distraught and was also caught off guard with P____’s decision. P_____’s parents were always very supportive of his athletic career. They showed up to games, helped him find club teams, encouraged his natural talent. She said that they had recently been having some family issues and that P____ was hanging out with the wrong crowd. I remember playing during my own high school career and my parent’s had never shown up to a single practice or competition. I told her not to worry and that I would talk to him and try to figure out what why he was quitting.

I called him a few days later and picked him up at his house. I asked him if he wanted to go for a ride, chat a bit.

“What’s wrong man?”

“I’m just sick of water polo Coach.”

“Well what do you want to do with your future?”

“Probably just graduate high school and wait tables for a few years. I hate living with my parents. I can’t stand being in the house with them anymore. I just want to get out. I think high school is bullshit.”

It was a case of a kid wanting to grow up too fast. Truth was, I knew exactly how he felt. I saw a lot of his anger and resentment in myself at that age. I knew the road that he was headed down: filled with self-medication, long lonely nights, broken relationships, wasted time. I spent close to a decade of my own life heading down the wrong path, filling my life with alcohol, drugs, and women to fill the void. Killing myself slowly because I couldn’t deal with my own emotional trauma and depression. I could never admit to myself or others the hurt I was feeling inside so I dulled the pain for a very long time.

“Well what do you figure you’re going to do after that? Just keep waiting tables? There has to be something else you want to do right? Don’t you have a dream?”

“Well, I kind of want to be a film director one day.”

“You don’t think you’ll have to go to school for that?”

“Yeah I suppose so.”

“You know you can go anywhere with water polo right?”

“I just don’t want to play ball anymore. I’m just not having fun.”

He fiddled with his hands.

“Have I ever let you down P_____?”

“No coach. You’ve always been straight forward with me.”

“Well you’re letting me down now P____. And there’s a whole team who’s got your back that you’re walking away from.”

He didn’t answer, just looked straight ahead out of the passenger seat.

“This is your ticket out of here P_____. You can do anything, anywhere. Water polo will get you there. I know you love playing in games. Forget your parents, forget the other kids at school. You can’t be shortsighted about this, all you have to do is finish out the second half of this season and next year and you’re out of here. I’ll help you get into a school and I guarantee things will get better.” I knew that I was lying because I couldn’t guarantee him anything.

He bit down on his lower lip and furrowed his brow.

“Can you do that for me P_____, just play out this season. You can move out of your parents and you don’t ever have to come back if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah I can do that” he answered hesitantly.

We drove around a bit longer and bullshitted about films and directors we liked. I dropped him back home and he promised that he would be back next week.

He came back to practice and I tried to ease him into the grind. He only made it through another week and a game and he quit again. I kept in contact with his parent’s and told them that I had tried as hard as possible and that there was nothing else I could do to help their kid. I told them that I would keep in contact with him and try to change his mind. I told them that as much as either they or I wanted him to stay, there was nothing we could do. I knew that he was getting into a bit of a drug habit and that they should curb it as much as possible, but I knew personally that the only change lay within P_____ himself.

The season continued that year and despite P_____’s absence the team was still able to secure 3^rd place in the Bay Division giving them an automatic berth into the CCS Division playoffs, a first in school history. After I told the team about the situation, they bit down hard on their mouthpieces and strung together an incredible run in the post season. Despite the loss of P_____ is solidified my own grit and belief in what I was doing.

Most players, myself included, would’ve given anything to have had P______’s circumstances. Most kids never have the chance to go any further in their career than high school athletics. I knew that I had a shot at saving P_____. That he didn’t need to head towards the direction I had, that he had everything at his feet, that he was so close to becoming everything that he wanted and needed to be. I blame myself quite a bit for how things went down. Like a Greek tragedy, it’s always easy to look back and think that situations and catastrophe could have been easily averted. Moments of misunderstanding or miscommunication would have changed the course of the outcome. I’d like to think that the whole situation didn’t bother me that much, but I lost quite a bit of sleep over the whole ordeal.

I want to believe that if another kid or situation were to come up again I would be able to make a difference.  I’d like to think that someday P_____ will be okay and realize his own mistakes and shortcomings. But I know that these things take time and a lot of self-realization because I’m still working through some of my own issues even to this day. I've learned that all the success and accolades in the world don't mean much when you've pushed all the people you love out of your life. I wish that I could’ve made a difference, but realize that everyone has to make their own choices and mistakes no matter how much help or guidance others give them.

I called P______ about a week ago and left him a message on his voicemail.

“He P______, it’s Daniel. I hope you’re doing okay, give me a call back when you get a chance.”

He never returned my call.

Never say never

I started bar backing a few months ago. I asked a few friends in the industry and soon landed a gig at an upscale restaurant in the financial district downtown. I have always had a fascination with working in a bar. There was a certain romantic allure in my yet naive ideology. It was a place of fun, unfettered adoration from the customers. You were serving inhibition one glass at a time.On top of my coaching career and studio practice, I would be working two 8 hour shifts on the weekends, rendering my social life pretty much null. However, I went into the new challenge with vigor and positivity, as I was yet unhindered by the brutal truth of being at the very bottom of the pecking order of a service industry institution.

I was thrown into the fire on my first shift alone.

 "Coops, Rocks, AP Reds, Bordeaux, Martinis and Mules. The most popular liquors are Four Roses, Ketel, Tangueray, Bulleit. You drink? Yeah? Well, that's good because the last guy who worked here didn't know anything about alcohol."

The restaurant used to be a bank and was retrofitted into a 4 story restaurant and bar serving the elite of San Francisco: old money, new money, businessmen and tourists. The stairs are an intricate maze and it was quite difficult learning how to balance 15 glasses on a tray going up and down dodging food runners and servers.

"We store all the sodas in a storage closet next to the employee locker room. The glasses at the Buck bar will have to be run downstairs periodically throughout the night so they do not pile up. Make sure that you never put your fingers in the glasses to carry them because every manager will give you shit."

I gave every shift my all and broke a few glasses the first few weeks, but things got easier as I learned the routine. There were good and bad people to work with as in any job. I learned to cope with the ins and outs of the job, building, and industry. It was quite hard work, much harder than any manual labor job I've ever had including metal fabrication.

"The wine and liquor cellar are located on the third floor, here are the keys. Make sure you check in with the bartenders so that all the popular spirits and wines are stocked. You don't want to wait til we get slammed. Typically you want to make runs and have several things listed so you aren't running up and down the stairs for only a bottle or two."

After each shift I would grab a drink at the Irish bar next door before going home to crawl into bed with my girlfriend. "How was work?" she would always ask sheepishly from sleep. I would always say it was okay as she quietly drifted back into dreams. If I had known that just a few weeks after my birthday she would be leaving I would have held her a little bit longer and quit the job sooner. Time seems much more precious after it has already passed.

"You want to make sure to stay on T_____'s good side. Make sure that you never put the Mules in the dish washer because he'll get on your case. Has anyone taught you had to make the syrups yet? No? Let's go do that and I'll also show you where we keep the kegs."

As the weeks passed on and I kept working, I knew in my heart that this industry was just not for me. I was way overworked, never saw my friends, and held on only due to a sense of stubbornness of not wanting to be a quitter. For the most part, the customers weren't bad people. Most people coming into the restaurant were casually spending hundreds of dollars per meal just because they could. I was there to do a job and tried to fulfill my duty. In some instances, the mixture of money, alcohol and a deep sense of entitlement produced some truly horrible people.

A middle aged white lady from Sacramento "You went to UC Davis and graduate school and now you're just a bar back?"

An older white man with his young black date. "Take a look at my beautiful dark chocolate."

Group of tourists "Those girls back at the pier were a bunch of cunts."

Young girl with friends "I was so wasted I ended up having sex with him on the pool table."

And so on and so forth. I heard snippets of these conversations over and over. Sometimes making me cringe, sometimes making me feel horrible. Once again, it wasn't like most people were like this. They had a drink or two with their meals, chatted, paid and went about their way. Maybe I'm just becoming a prude with age, but sometimes it took all I had to keep the smile on my face. It made me feel worthless and sad, as I kept running to the cellar, stocking the bar, and washing glasses.

"How come you didn't come upstairs with the mop? You've got to do what I say. You know I'm the one who tips you out right?" I started dreading going to work. No sense of duty could keep me there. I missed seeing my friends, I missed my weekends. My relationship fell apart and I didn't even have time to mourn. Last weekend was my last scheduled shift. I went in and they had double booked me and the other bar back. I told P____ that I was going to take off and that he could take my shift. I said goodbye to some of the other guys. C____ was just getting off his shift and asked me if I wanted to go out with some of his friends.

I didn't really know him to well, but definitely didn't want to go back to my now empty room.  We go to the Irish bar next door to some shots, me Jameson, C____ fernet. "You want to go to the Mission to meet up with some of my girlfriends? You'll meet H____ she's hot. Don't tell my girlfriend I said that though, you'll meet her later also."

I drove us down to the Mission and went to Delirium. "Order us two beers" he says before going over to a man at the end of the bar. They shake hands and go to the bathroom together. He comes back in a few minutes and sits down to our beers. We drink them quickly and cross the street to Giordano's where C_____ knows all the bartenders and manager.

e orders us some beers and introduces me to everyone. He is talkative and animated, he is open and engages with strangers.

"Hey you like white girl?"

"Well, I mean my ex girlfriend was white."

"No, I mean this" he says palming a baggie to me.

"Nah, not tonight I'm cool."

"Ok, more for me" he says heading to the bathroom.

We finish our beers and head out to Oysters and Rocks a few blocks down to meet his friend H____ and girlfriend N_____. They aren't there yet so we order some more beers. C____ goes to the bathroom. When the girls arrive he introduces me to everyone and furtively says, "I told you H_____ was hot right?" C_____ starts to drink hard and becomes louder and more boisterous.  He goes out to answer a phone call at some point and the bartender tells me that he is cut off.

"What are you doing tonight?" H_____ asks.

"I've got no plans."

"Well we are going to a birthday party later if you want to come."

I give an ambivalent answer.

My phone buzzes. It's a text from my S____.

"You want to meet up?"

I tell C____ and the girls I've got to go and that it was great to meet them.

I drive across town, thinking about everything that's happened. I drive across town hoping that things could go back to normal. That my life was as it was like a few months ago.  They say "never say never" but this past weekend was my last weekend working at a bar and it is something I will never do again.

It's taught me how to be on the other side but in a entirely different way than I thought. There was no glamour, there was no excitement. Any plans to ever open a bar have been dashed. It's reinforced my want to succeed in the studio, to shake off doubts and fear. I think about C____ and see myself from years ago. Alcohol and self-medication a crutch, anger self- pity my emotional outlets. I think about time and change and what type of man I want to be. I think about how much time I've wasted and how much work I have yet to do. I know that life is long and short at the same time and that it's never too late to make a change for the better, even if you've got to give up part of your past.

Friends, Fire, and Fantasy Football

There have been several instances in my life where I've almost burned the house down to the ground. The earliest time was when I got a hold of one my uncle's lighters from off the shelf. I was probably no older than 4 or 5. I took it when no one was watching and I sat down in the middle of the living room and held the flame up to my face and stared at it until it got too hot for my fingers to hold. I did it a couple of times and then decided to put the flame to the carpet. The fibers melted, twisted and singed black with smoke and it was entrancing. I grew bolder and bolder until, the flame finally caught and a little fire started to spread, the size of coin, the palm of my hand, a basketball. I watched quietly not understanding any of the consequences. My uncle came into the room and saw what I had done, stamped out the flame and slapped me on the back of my head. I got a pretty good beating, but not enough so that I didn't almost burn down the house on several other instances throughout my life. 

I was over at my friend S____'s house the another night having a few drinks around the kitchen table. A____ was also over and we chatted about our lives, and jobs, and art. Bragging about small triumphs, but mostly denouncing other artists and the work they made. I had a draft for my fantasy football league going at the same time and overall, it was shaping up to be a pretty low key type of night.  

"How's C____ doing?"

"Oh, he just got a job at the Wattis doing preparator work."

"That's good, I haven't seen him around in awhile."

"I just landed a pretty sweet gig at the De Young, today was my last day at the art supply place."

"Congratulations man! Better pay?"

"Yeah double the wage."

"Should I draft Watkins?"

"What number pick?"

"5th round."

"Nah, he didn't produce well last year, go with Morris if he's still available."

I mostly watched the screen, while the chatter went on, content to be in the midst of company and not alone at home on a Friday night. I had been fighting with my girlfriend for weeks and was in a horrible emotional place which had been affecting my studio time and work. I was feeling depressed and I knew that it only made things worse if I stayed at home alone.

They lit a joint and passed it back and forth and offered it to me a few times even though they both knew I had stopped smoking a year ago. 

"No thanks man. Just can't do it anymore." 

All of S_____'s roommates were home and some of them had to work the next day so we went outside to the patio and decided to light a fire in a little pit they had. It was a little open pit container, the type you could pick up at a big chain hardware store. There was a pile of leaves right next to the pit and a large tree overhanging the pit. This could be a little dangerous I thought to myself, but not enough so to raise objections.

"You guy's want another drink?" asked A_____

"Sure"

"Make that three"

A______ went back to the kitchen to make the drinks and S_____ worked on the fire.

"You think I should draft Romo?"

"Yeah if he's still around, if not I think you can wait another round because everyone else should mostly have the same production afterwards." 

The fog was rolling in that night and S_____ couldn't seem to get the fire going. He kept throwing bits of cardboard underneath the logs he propped up, but they would not catch. I stared mindlessly at the screen and didn't think to help or engage, merely content to be disengaged from my friends and the situation. He went and grabbed a can of lighter fluid from inside. 

"This should get the fire going."

The next couple of moments went by horribly fast. I was only about a quarter way through my fantasy draft when I heard a commotion in S____'s direction. 

"You okay man?" I asked nonchalantly 

"Oh fuck, oh fuck."

I looked up and S_____ 's right side of his body was on fire. He had dropped the can of half gallon lighter fluid and it had spilled partially onto him and the ground and flames leapt five feet in the air. The patio, a lawn chair, and the side of the house were immediately engulfed in flames.

"Holy shit."

I ran to try to stomp the flames out, but the can had landed side down and produced a continuous stream of ignition. The flames leapt higher and higher and S____ kept slapping at his arm and pants to try to put himself out. When he finally put himself out he ran back into the house. I stayed outside and shoved the gas can out of the main fire in hopes that the goddamn thing wouldn't explode in my face. I slapped and stamped at the main bulk of the fire to no avail. The flames climbed higher onto the siding of the house. While all this mayhem was going on, the actual logs in the firepit remained unlit. S_____ came back out with pots filled with water and dumped them on the flames which were by now a quarter way up the side of the house and about a third of the small patio. The fire was directly separating me and the door back in the house. S____ ran back inside to refill the pots as A____ came outside. By this time all of S____'s had heard the commotion and were out of the deck or in the living watch their house being engulfed in flames.

As A____ came out to the patio, S____ started dumping water directly out the living room window. There was a loud hiss and large ball of sparks. The fire had eaten through an electrical fire.

"Stop throwing water!" A_____ yelled, "There is a live wire outside."

The fire still separated me and the inside of the house. The ground was doused with water and I thought this is the end. I was going to die of electrocution before I had really done anything spectacular with my life. I jumped over the water and fire and ran inside.

"Should we call the fire deparment?" one of S____'s roommates asked.

"Yes, call 911 now."

"You're on fire." S____ said pointing to my leg. I looked down and my left foot and pant leg were indeed on fire. I patted it out with my hand and tried again to stamp out the flames. I grabbed a cushion off the couch and raced back downstairs. What seemed like 30 minutes was in reality only about 5 minutes. We were able to subdue the fire eventually as the firemen arrived. I felt a deep sense of relief, anxiety, and adrenaline coursing through my body. The firemen came in and put out the remainder of the fire and live embers, they ripped out part of the siding to the wall. 

"You guy's did a pretty decent job" one of the firemen off handedly remarked.

As one of the firemen went over the report with J_____ I felt a mixture of relief and concern. I was glad that no one was hurt, but I knew that J____ would be in a bit of trouble and his roommates were already convening together probably in hopes of kicking him out of the house. It was the closest call I had ever had to burning the house down. At that moment I thought about my life, my girlfriend, family, and friends I loved, my mistakes and triumphs, and how little I had accomplished and how much more I wanted to do. Looking back, I realize how lucky we were to have escaped a tragedy. I realized that i had to redouble my efforts in my own life and how much for granted I had taken things like my health, girlfriend, and career. I had everything going for me and I didn't even realize it.

J____ had a pretty sizeable burn on his left arm, but declined to go to the emergency room. J____, A_____, and I all went out for a cigarette at the front of the house. We walked passed his roommates as we went out the front door and they did not look happy.

"I am glad that everyone is okay."

"Yes, that could have been worse."

"You should call your landlord."

"I'll have to do it tomorrow, it is too late now."

"Maybe B_____ can help you repair the siding of your house."

"Yes, that will have to be done as soon as possible."

We chatted for a bit longer and hugged goodbye. 

"Take care of yourself J_____" 

As I walked back to my car, despite everything else, all I could think about was horrible my fantasy team was going to be.

2014

Another year has come and gone and for me it was a pretty good one.

Last year was full of weddings. Lots of friends and family members got married and I'm right around the age when my parent's got married and had me as well. I was averaging about a wedding a month. Growing up I always thought that I would have been married at this time. I also made a promise to myself as a kid that I would have a million dollars in the bank by the time I was 30. I guess plans never go exactly the way you want them to.

I don't really like weddings much, it means talking to a lot of acquaintances and family members I don't really know and much less banter with. Most often, they just ask me why I haven't married yet and had kids. I just usually shrug my shoulders and smile. The one upside to going to so many weddings is that I had the privilege of escorting this beautiful lady.



I've always had some trepidation about turning 30. I thought that I would have done something completely different with my life. But this year, I've realized that I've chosen the right path and that I'm surrounded by great, supportive friends, and a loving family.

I'm lucky to have people I can turn to whenever a problem big or small arises. I've also come to terms that I'll never be rich beyond my wildest dreams, but that I'll always be full of experiences that I would never have sitting behind the screen on a computer. I started pursuing art almost 7 years ago now and I can't complain about how things have turned out to this point.

I've always had some trepidation about turning 30, but now I know that it is merely a starting point for bigger things to come.





I saved a life this year. There was a hummingbird trapped inside my studio during the morning and he couldn't find his way out of the building. Hummingbirds need to constantly feed in order to sustain the crazy amount of energy they spend zipping around everywhere. By midday he was on his last legs and fell out of the air and plopped onto a couch in the communal space. He was still breathing, but his eyes were closed and just plain tuckered out.

I went to the cafeteria, grabbed a few sugar packets and dissolved them in water. I held a coffee stirrer to his tongue and he was at least still conscious enough to lap up some of the sugar water. I kept it up for about 20 minutes and he seemed to be able to recompose himself. He stood up ruffled his wings, and carried off like nothing had happened.


 This year has been terrific for my coaching career. I coached my first Junior Olympics for the 16 and under C team for Stanford this past summer. (Yeah, they were the bottom of the barrel group at Stanford) Although they did not make it into qualifiers, I gained a lot of new techniques, insight, and coaching knowledge from the experience. More importantly, I was able to translate that experience into wins for my Mills Vikings water polo team.

After going 13-1 last season, tying for first place in the Ocean division, Mills was able to move up to the Bay division this season with the top dawgs in the Peninsula. We went 3-3 in regular season play, putting us in third place and a walk on spot for CCS playoffs. It was the first time in Mills history to make CCS, allowing the 2014 Varsity squad to make it into the Hall of Fame. It was an unbelievable season full of ups and downs and an experience that I'll treasure forever.

I quit the Stanford club and am now the full time head coach of the Burlingame Aquatic Club Barracudas. It's been a long haul to go from a perfect losing season to being able to coach my own club team. Next goal: collegiate level.

My girlfriend and I travelled to Taiwan and Japan over winter break. It was terrific to get to see family and not think about water polo or art for a few weeks. As I get older, it's harder and harder to get free time. It's hard to see friends that I used to hang out with every weekend. If they have kids, it's pretty much awash.

As a kid, I thought traveling back to Taiwan was such a drag. I didn't realize how lucky I was to be able to spend time in my native country. To be close to my family and culture. And how glad I am that my mom dragged me back all those summers.

I'm hoping to spend more time there as I get older and hopefully even move back for a few months to spend some more time with my parents.











I've come to realize how lucky I am to have the parents I do, even though they can drive me entirely insane at times. I was a hell of a lot to deal with as a child and if I do ever have kids, I know that I'll have to deal with the karma.















I'm very excited and happy to announce that I have two shows coming up!

"A Rose Has Teeth in the Mouth of a Beast" is coming up Saturday, January 24th 6-11pm @ Heron arts.

Here's my show statement:

"I grew up living two lives. I wanted to break stereotypes but ended up just fitting the mold. I had to be the nerd and the athlete. I had to speak better Mandarin and English than anyone else. My Asian friends said I was too whitewashed. My white friends said I was too Asian. I had to be a filial son. I had to be the cool kid. I had to constantly shuffle back and forth, always putting on my mask. I was constantly on the move, shuttling across the Pacific Ocean between two lives, all the people and places different and the same all at once.

My mom once told me, “You will know how valuable these experiences are when you are older.”

Nothing was ever enough. I never took advice. I thought as a young man that I had everything figured out. I tried and tried to keep up the act, to be everything that everyone else wanted. I wanted to assimilate while holding true to my cultural roots. I wanted to badly to live up to everyone’s standards but my own. I’ve made enough mistakes to fill two lifetimes. And all that this gave me was an emptiness that I could not put my finger to. I was angry, and lonely, and unfulfilled but I did not know why.

My dad once told me, “You should get a girlfriend; you’re too wild when you’re single.” 

I’ve done all this running around and I’m right back to where I started. My story is the exact opposite of the damsel in distress. It’s me who needs to be saved."

Second up will be "Portraits of Strangers, Someones, & Nobodies" Friday, February 6th 5-2 @ 111 Minna Gallery.

It's quite an honor to have been chose for this group show and I hope that it translates into bigger and better opportunities in the future.

I hope to see your beautiful faces there.

Turning 30

I started my summer off with a death. My Uncle John passed away this past June due to health complications after having gone through open heart surgery. I travelled back promptly to Taiwan to be with my family and tried to be strong even though inside I felt like a child again. It was hard to see my aunt and her family's grief and mostly I tried to be a man although it's hard to define what that really means. 

My Uncle was one of the funniest and most charismatic people I have ever known and although he is gone I still carry along the lessons, conversations, and love that he imparted on me throughout my childhood and life. It made me think about my own father and time. How much time has passed and how very precious relationships and experiences are. How careless I've been as a young adult in my 20's and how bullheaded and arrogant my attitudes were with family and those who truly mean something. It was a rough way to start the summer, but it grounded me in a lot of ways. To realize what is truly important. To understand that time is always fleeting.

“People living alone get used to loneliness.” 

― F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night

I've always thought that I could make it own my own. Any problems or mishaps that occurred in my life could be taken care of by myself. I thought I didn't need anyone. I was a lone wolf, solitary, independent. But I was wrong. Over the last few years I had been self-medicating pretty hard and I never thought that things were out of control, but I was definitely not there. I was hiding behind a wall of drugs, alcohol, and denial. 

I surrounded myself with people that weren't positive and who I thought were my friends. Really I was just stuck living the same lie I had been for the past decade. I did not really try my first year in grad school. I skated by, I deflected when I needed to, and I was never fully engaged. I had always thought that I could just coast by in life.

I went through an entire year of therapy. There certainly were times when sI felt like it was a complete waste of time. I set up meetings on Monday morning so it was literally what started my week. It certainly wasn't fun, but it allowed me to talk about things which I had kept hidden and buried for so long. And when it was all out in the open, things weren't really that bad. I knew that I had to make a change in my life, I had to cut out some friends, I had to cut out the drugs, and I had to engage.

This summer has been quite extraordinary for me. I feel like a new person. I feel alive. I feel good. Maybe a lot of it has to do with the fact that I am turning 30 in less than a week. Maybe a lot of it has to do with the fact that I am in a very healthy and stable relationship with a beautiful girl. Maybe a lot of it has to do with cutting out vices and negative influences in my life. I don't think that it  is any one particular thing, but I do know that I have made a change, and certainly for the better.

Going to grad school has been one of the best decisions I have ever made. It has surrounded me with people who have not only also invested their lives in art, but are productive and encouraging of my work and my mental well-being. I know now that I am no longer a lone wolf in a landscape, but have friends, family, and a supportive girlfriend standing by my side. I know now that things are possible and that the dark times are over. Although there will be other hardships that arise as life progresses, I won't have to deal with them on my own.

I am done looking back at the past, I want to keep moving forward. I want and know that the path that I have chosen has been right. And even in the end, if I am not successful, I will have given it that shot and maybe that's the gift in itself.

I have a show coming up this Friday at Arc Gallery (1246 Folsom Street, SF). I will be there at 7pm if you want to stop by and say hello. Things are looking on the up and up and I could not be more excited for this next chapter in life.

Everyone's got problems

Going to grad school involves going to classes and reading and writing about shit that you don't necessarily care about. It's not that I don't care, it's just that I'm pretty apathetic to it all besides the actual painting. "You've really got to make the most out of this experience," one of my advisers keeps telling me. "I can only try to help you so much. You can't just keep living in your own world, you've gotta expand and look at other artists." I completely agree.

We had open studios at cca a few weeks ago:

 I try to not even talk much during critiques anymore. One of my teacher's said that I had to learn to not be as "flippant". Another said that "I have no taste, and that this graffiti, street, stuff is played out." But to each their own really.














Besides getting my ass handed to me at school, I've been able to supplementing my income over the last six months by buying and selling old crap and gambling. It's not that most prestigious way to make some cash, but it's nice to know that I can make some decent picks. The vintage stuff is mostly women's accessories, jackets, and jewelery. The gambling might just become a problem. I know that no one stays in the positive forever. And it's about control. And control is something I'm still trying to learn.

For one of my classes we have to attend two open public meetings. The first "meeting" I went to was $1 days at Golden Gate Fields(obviously, it was really for me more than anything), to which my teacher said that my second meeting had to be free. I choose to go to Gamblers Anonymous, although I think AA would have been appropriate. (All names have been changed.):

    It was 7pm on a Monday evening and I had been having whiskey sodas while watching basketball games I had placed several large wagers on.  I met my bookie Alex through a mutual gambling friend. We met once a week at a nondescript burger joint in San Mateo to settle my account. Alex hasn't been his usual cheery, affable self since my month long hot streak.

    I found the GA meeting through the website directory which located the closest meeting to my house. It was only one town over in a Presbyterian Church in Room #201. Having arrived at the Church, I walked into the main chapel which was being occupied by a Boy Scouts of America ceremony. It had been raining and my sneakers squelched every step I took. I asked a grown man in a Boy Scout uniform  where 201 was and he pointed upstairs and to the left.

    Room 201 turns out to be the Sunday School Children's room. I am greeted by Adam who is the person in charge of the GA meeting. Adam wears glasses and a polo tucked in, a large gold band on his wedding finger. He shakes my hand and asks me if it's my first meeting. He then gives me a handful of literature and pamphlets. He returns to setting up children's chairs in a semi circle around a table with John, who is the secretary for the meetings. John is in his 50s and bald, sporting a thick mustache. He is short, thin, and twitchy. He would later announce several times that it was his 17th year addiction free and that they would be having a get together on thursday replete with coffee and snacks.

    Adam takes his place behind the table, giving him a more "official" role as meeting director. Eventually we are joined by two other men and three women. Adam then bangs his hand on the children's table like a gavel to call order to the meeting. I tried not to laugh audibly. Adam reminded us that GA meant that all members and their stories remain only within the room. The first half of the meeting consisted of going around in a circle and reading out sections in a yellow pamphlet. I felt like I was in grade school again.

    I consciously made an effort to seem defeated, I didn't want them to think I didn't belong. We went round and round reading out of the yellow pamphlet. There was a question section where 7 out of 20 affirmative answers confirmed that you were a degenerate, compulsive gambler. I easily doubled the score. After the reading section we are told to break for five minutes, but not before a collection plate was passed around. "Our group meetings are self-sustained and funded" Adam reminded us while we all reached for our wallets.

    The second portion of the meetings is the sharing section. Everyone gets to go around the circle and share any thoughts, stories, or just to talk in general. John talked on and on forever about nothing and then reminded everyone about his party. Adam admitted that if he were ever to gamble again he would bet everything he had. A man in his mid 30s had just went past 90 days. An older mexican women relapsed and promised it wouldn't happen again. A man with a family said that he had been sneaking out all hours of the night to get his fix on. And then it was my turn.

"Hi my name is Daniel and I'm a compsulsive gambler."

"Hi daniel" they returned.

"I guess when you kind of grow up around gambling, you just don't really see anything wrong with it. It's just a way of life, something that's normal. And I guess it's not until you're a little bit older that you experience a lot of the perils. And sometimes those things get out of control. And things have been getting a little out of control recently. And I guess that's why I'm here."

They all clapped for me while I lied through my teeth. Adam picked up a special keychain and passed it around the circle. It was my official token into the group. Adam slammed his hand on the table again to announce the end of the meeting. John stopped me on the way out and dribbled on about GA and the importance of coming to the second meeting. He reminded me again of his party. I shook his hand and tried to muster a smile. Adam thanked me for coming and said he hoped to see me soon. He reminded me that his number as well as other sponsors were readily available if I felt like relapsing.
The buzzer on my phone goes off. It's a text message from my bookie Alex.

"You're down _____ this week, should we meet at the usual place?"

I suppose everyone's got problems.