I tried something new this past weekend: I went contra dancing (for a friend’s birthday party). Turns out, contra dancing is a line dance that’s wholesome, fairly easy, and fun. It’s the kind of thing where you can take your grandma (because many people who go are her age anyway). It’s an intergenerational crowd with older and younger people spinning around together. I think I’ll try to go to the monthly dances.

The movement and connection brought me a lot of unexpected joy, with endorphins flowing through me and potential new friends made. 

I did have a moment, though, where–if the scene were a movie, it would’ve moved in slow motion. I had to process on my drive home. …While I’ve never (officially) been in a relationship, there was someone I sort of dated 6 years ago for about 2 weeks before it spiraled into a confusing, hurtful “situationship” that dragged on for several months. I’ll just call him “X” (since he’s the closest thing I have to an “ex”). I’ve seen X around over the years since then, because we’re in some of the same social circles. We’re usually pleasant. He’s made an effort to extend an olive branch and even apologize, but I’ve always kept a safe distance. But all this to say, he and his wife were at the contra dance.

Seeing them this time around, I noticed a shift in myself. I didn’t feel a need to keep my wall up. I was even kind of happy to see them. As we all shifted and swirled around to the bluegrass music, there was a moment when my (assigned) dance partner and I joined hands with X and his wife, and we spun in a circle. I thought, “This is strange… and actually really nice.” 

6 years ago, there were a lot of things X should’ve done differently, and that’s why I got hurt in the end. But I also have regrets about how I handled things. I was entitled and egocentric. If I were more mature back then, I would’ve recognized his value as a friend. I would’ve seen the value of learning how to be a quality friend, regardless of what he thought of me romantically.

Back then, I saw romantic relationships as being a linear progression, thanks to a steady diet of Hollywood values. You go from initial attraction, to dating, to a committed relationship, to engagement, to marriage. Hollywood has taught us that we can “fast forward” the slow, boring phases to get to “the good part” (whatever that is for you: changing your Facebook status, getting married, having sex, etc.). That’s an entitled mindset that makes us evaluate people only in terms of their “usefulness” in meeting our romantic desires.

Over the years, I’ve started to think of marriage not as the finish line to my singleness race, but as a strong, steady, long-lasting house. Shared faith in Jesus is the foundation, but the material with which the house is built is friendship. Friendship is not a boring phase that you bypass to get to “the good part.” Friendship is the structure of the entire house. If you don’t put in the effort to cultivate a quality friendship, you don’t have the materials to build a solid relationship that has marriage potential. (That’s why so few of the relationships on dating apps and The Bachelor ever work out: all romance and chemistry but no substance.) 

I’m blessed to have a few high-quality, 15+ year friendships. The process of building those friendships was actually really boring: showing up to college classes or church every week, texting and hanging out regularly, volunteering together, communicating every week when one of us lived out of state or country, showing up to our film screenings and art shows, and working through conflict. But every consistently shared Bible study, funny text, and hard conversation served as the building blocks of trust, respect, love, honesty, security, inside jokes, and profound joy. That’s why those friendships have lasted longer than some of my friends’ marriages. And that’s why I choose to hold out for a romantic relationship that can be built from a good friendship. Not to mention, someone who’s proven to be a great friend is actually more attractive to me.

I don’t regret that I didn’t end up with X. He and his wife are a good fit, and I’m happy for them. But I do regret not being a better friend, and only evaluating his “usefulness” from a romantic standpoint. If I had chosen to work through my wounds, forgive him, and stay friends, we definitely wouldn’t have built a marriage from that friendship, but other great things (like being colleagues) could’ve come from it. But who knows… maybe friendship can be rebuilt. Time will tell.

(Note about the blog: I’m likely switching gears a bit, starting next month, to write more about creative career advice. I’ll still keep this “Life Lessons” category, but posts under it will be less frequent.)

I once met an artist who gave me a vision for why artists’ work is important in society overall. That was the start of my conviction that I was on the right track in life, and that there actually is a higher purpose to being a weird creative. His name is Mako Fujimura. At the talk he gave in Lancaster city several years ago, he told a story about the start of his artist career, when he had just gotten married and money was tight. One day, his wife came home with flowers. He got upset and said, “Why did you buy flowers when we barely have enough money to buy food?” She said, “We need to feed our souls, too.” He said that moment was an epiphany for the value of his work and what all artists contribute to the world. 

We contribute beauty, which is food for the soul.

My own everyday life is surrounded by visual beauty, whether I’m researching it or creating it, so I can be desensitized. So I discover beauty not just with my eyes, but in my heart, through human connection and experience.

This is a big buildup to basically say, I spent an unplanned afternoon with my mom and sister, and it was life-giving. With my sister being both a busy CEO and pregnant, my mom and I have taken it on ourselves to make sure she eats and keeps from lifting heavy boxes. She normally has to pack up several coffee orders and take them to Mail Dock every day. So one afternoon, I hit a mental wall on a book spread I was working on. I decided to head to the coffee roastery and help with packing orders. I drove my sister, picked up our mom, and we dropped off all the boxes. Then I made sure they ate, so we got takeout and had a little picnic in the middle of the warehouse. 

Where most people with normal jobs need to turn to the arts for beauty and inspiration, I need to get out into the “real world” to work with my hands, to run errands with people, and have conversations about mundane things. I know the American work ethic frowns on leaving work in the middle of the afternoon to help your pregnant sister, but it fed my soul. Sometimes it’s not a vase of flowers that does it for me, but a pile of chicken tenders with my mom and sister in a coffee warehouse.

When I entered my 30’s, I noticed how my body communicates what it needs. I get cravings for tomatoes in the spring, which means my body needs whatever nutrients are in tomatoes. I go through phases where I crave dark chocolate, and that’s when my body is deficient in magnesium (or so I read). But weirdly, I sometimes forget that my brain is part of my body, and it has needs, too. Lately, it’s been making demands for sunshine and, well, fun. Like, kid fun.

My job is literally to draw pictures for kids’ books, so you’d think I’d know how to have fun. But self-employment means doing the job of an entire business on top of your actual job, plus all the everyday responsibilities of adulthood, like exercise, answering the family group chat (so they know you’re alive), paying bills, and car maintenance. So I get caught up in all those details that I forget: drawing puppies is supposed to be fun.

For Bachelor / DIY spa night, while K and I had our feet soaking in warm, salty water, and Zach (the bachelor) was meeting girlfriend #4’s parents, I told K about how big a project puppy book #3 has been. “I have to come up with all these dancing puppies in 20 different scenarios…” She laughed and said, “Ugh, work problems. All those puppies in all those backgrounds.” K is an in-home caretaker part-time, but she has career ambitions for film production. So she spends some of her week producing short films, and is currently working on costumes for her upcoming film. She said, “So far, I have 14 confirmed zombie minions, but I’m waiting to hear back from a few more.” I laughed, “We’re so weird.”

With my mom being an immigrant, she’s lived her life spending time and energy on Important Things. For her, life was (understandably) about survival–making sure my sister and I were fed and safe. She’s a lot more fun now in her retirement, but while my sister and I were kids, she didn’t see the value in playing games. So I’ve had to learn to relax and have fun as an adult. (It’s usually friends, like K, who motivate me to have fun.) But I still catch myself getting too serious and grown up, even when drawing cartoon puppies.

It helps to remember who I was as Kid Vania, who loved to spend hours in a flow state with her pencils and markers. With business being stressful for my sister, too, with increasing growth and a baby coming, I took her out for ice cream at our favorite dairy farm. We talked about how her (now) thriving company came from her love of cats and coffee. Even though bookkeeping still needs to be done and car oil needs to be changed, being healthy as an adult means letting our kid selves go out and play.

This is something that’s vulnerable to admit, but I have some anxiety about driving. I function fine overall to get to wherever I need to go in my everyday life, but there are some situations I try to avoid. The anxiety came from a very bad car accident I was in about 12 years ago. It was a freak accident in that something strange happened to the tires (which didn’t even make any unusual sounds). I suddenly lost control of the car, rolled down a hill, and wound up upside down. I had some internal bruising and a concussion, but those were all fairly minor injuries, all things considered.

After the accident, some driving situations occasionally triggered panic attacks. I’ve gotten lightyears better in the last 12 years, but once in a great while, a road situation will still trigger something in me. One of them is weirdly specific (but the panic rarely happens anymore). It’s when I’m approaching a green light on a suburban road, and there’s no one in front of me. The closer I get to the light, I get a physical reaction (some kind of trauma response) similar to when I’m on a rollercoaster, bracing myself for the sudden drop. My body tenses up pretty intensely and I hold my breath as I drive through the green light. My car accident wasn’t near traffic lights, so I don’t know where it comes from. It’s not even consistent. 99% of the time, I’m totally fine.

The most recent time it happened, I had a breakthrough as to how to deal with it. As I approached the green light, I audibly said to myself, “The light is green. I can go. I do this all the time. Keep going, keep going, keep going…” As I said those words, the tension in my body vanished instantly. 

Right then, I saw the phrase “the truth will set you free” play out in the most literal sense. An irrational fear crept into my mind about something totally mundane that I’ve done before, and I do all the time. My body tensed and I had a death grip on my steering wheel. But literally verbalizing the truth to myself actually dissolved the tension: “The light is green. I can go. I do this all the time and nothing bad has ever happened.”

It’s a practical application even to other things in life that we avoid or put off because of fear. Business-wise, my least favorite part of my routine is bookkeeping. Despite assurances from my accountant, I still feel incompetent at it, so I avoid it for as long as I can. I will deep clean the bathroom and organize supply shelves before I’ll do my bookkeeping. But once I do, I see there’s absolutely nothing to be afraid of (even accidentally doing something illegal or my accountant judging me). In fact, I always end up saying, “Why didn’t I do this sooner?”

So as we face situations we perceive to be scary for whatever reason (fear of the unknown, rejection, how it affects others, etc.), maybe we should first question if the fear is rational. Is there truth right in front of us that contradicts the fear? Latch on to it. Say it out loud. If we don’t have truth in front of us, frame the fear as a question instead of a statement in order to find the truth. I.e., if the fear statement is, “Making X decision will affect my family,” then challenge it with questions: “How will this affect my family? Are there any positives for them? What do I assume they think vs. what do they actually think?” If needed, talk through the situation with someone.

It’s likely that the worst thing that could happen won’t really hurt us at all, or that much. It may even just be an imaginary boogeyman in our heads that’s keeping us from living abundantly. Either way, the truth will set us free.

I’ve been very intentional in the last few days of being present to myself. I remembered that my favorite coffee shop is open on Sundays, so I spent a few hours working–or I should say, creating–from there. (There’s a difference between art for work and art for fun). And then I checked out picture books for inspiration from the library on Monday. Both days were incredibly life-giving, and such a refreshing start to my week. Monday library hauls will be a thing now.

And of course, Monday nights are Bachelor nights. Either K or I always says, “I don’t know why we keep watching this show,” as we stuff our faces with brownies. Zach, the current Bachelor, had to break up with 3 of his 7 girlfriends this week, after he took them all on lavish dates he didn’t pay for. Some people’s lives are so rough.

K and I talked about who our “types” are. Ours are very different. She likes the brooding, intellectual, creative types (who balance out her spontaneous, free spirit). I like the quietly strong, steady, faithful, reliable ones, especially when they have a weird side. They’re boring on paper, but are actually timeless. 

I told her about a college friend who helped me realize how important reliability was to me. He was the type who I figured wouldn’t give me the time of day even as a friend (hockey player, drank a lot, dated only athletic blondes). To my surprise, our group projects actually helped us be great friends and respected colleagues. Whenever I needed help setting up video shoots, I texted him to help, and he came right over. He also always communicated his status–on time, running late, will be busy on certain days, etc. I noticed how that reliability was rare to find in college guys, and that’s what I found attractive. (I wasn’t romantically attracted to him, just that quality about him.) 

I said to K, “I think it’s a lot easier for people to blame the opposite sex for being shallow rather than work on their own communication and commitment issues. I’m not looking for a Hemsworth, I just want someone who I can count on to be there and text me if he’s gonna be late.” To be in a relationship with someone, I need to see consistency and reliability in order to feel safe with him. (This is also true of friendships.) I spent my childhood having to make new friends constantly because we moved around, and then later on, being hurt by romantic interests who ran around chasing random whims (who were usually other girls). So I’m exhausted.

But anyway, in the spirit of Bachelor night… cheers to being present, and for the company of reliable, long-time best friends.

Last week, I realized I needed to prioritize my mental health and make some changes to my routine. I don’t know why I was so unaware in my 20’s, but in my 30’s, my body has ways of letting me know what it needs. (I often say my body is more opinionated now.) This past week, with my body being low on dopamine and serotonin, it needed to work from a coffee shop. (I haven’t really done that since January, in an effort to save some money.) It needed walks and sunshine. And it needed a session with one of my mentors.

She helped me arrive at new insights on grief. I used to think grief was something you went through when someone died or there is a major change in life. But now I’m starting to realize that part of maturing as an adult is making space for grief in everyday life, allowing it to coexist with joy. I remember I did some grieving when I turned 30–not because I was upset about being older, but because I recognized how much growing I did in my 20’s. I also had a moment–sometime in 2020, I think–when I realized I was getting closer to my mom after so many years. I grieved the time I wasted resenting her, and also the fact that she’s getting older and won’t be around forever. I didn’t know how to name it in my 20’s, but I also grieved when my sister started dating her now husband (her only boyfriend). She has always been one of my best friends, but with him in the picture, it changed our relationship. 

There’s even an element of grief now with her baby on the way. For one thing, the baby wasn’t planned, so she’s processing the sudden change to her life, the way she’ll need to give up so much of herself for this child for the next 18+ years, starting with her body. But it’s the kind of grief that accompanies the most profound joy. 

That’s sort of like the point of the movie Inside Out. As kids, we think we need to avoid sadness and cling to joy as much as possible to be happy. But maturity happens when we see the various layers in our memories, how the sadness led to joy, or how anger was masking our sadness. 

But all this to say, as I mentioned more than a week ago (in a post now archived), I’m now realizing that I’ve had to grieve over church not being what it used to be to me as a kid. It’s not just these past few Sundays, but the last 10 years. It used to be the place where I could count on making and seeing my closest friends. It used to be an anchor in my life, a source of stability. But as my mentor helped me see, God is teaching me that only He is my stability. That’s not to say that I shouldn’t trust anyone. In fact, God being my stability frees me up to risk being hurt and disappointed by others. Because in that risk, even if I am hurt, (and even though I’m still a bit weary of the grief), God never fails to be the safest place to land.

I’ve been trying to mix up my routine a bit to help fill up on inspiration sometimes. So I came away from spending this past weekend with my mom a lot more refreshed with a clear mind. I was able to get some graphic novel reading in, plus some brushing up on illustrating techniques, because I’m developing characters for the indie publisher I illustrate for (one of my retainer clients). I will say, for the first time in a long time, I felt like I hit my stride with these characters. The work I’m doing for them looks so much more epic!

All this to say, as I was studying poses, I made a connection to this one very underrated thing, which is such a subtle tweak, that I think makes people more attractive: posture. Here’s what I mean by that…

In a character design class I once took, I learned how to pose characters in such a way that shows off their personality. The directionality in a pose brings a character to life. Without explanation, their pose and posture can tell you what kind of character they are, whether they’re an insecure high school kid or a confident superhero. Here are some stick figures to illustrate:

I’m not saying that you should stick your hips out more to be better looking. I’m just saying that your posture says a lot about you. And your posture is both mental and physical.

Your mental posture is what you think of yourself, and probably how you compare yourself to others. Do you feel like you add value to your relationships, or that people don’t even notice if you’re around? Do you think of yourself as good-looking or ugly? Dumb or smart? These thoughts about yourself actually affect your physical posture. Someone who’s confident (but not arrogant) will stand with their back straight, chest slightly puffed out, and weight shifted on one leg, which is usually perceived as more attractive. A hunched-over back gives off an air of insecurity. (This is true even as a character design principle. Look up the artwork for “Diary of a Wimpy Kid.” The characters are all awkward teenagers, and they all have hunched-over backs.)

We’ve unfortunately learned from Hollywood that the key to attractiveness is that men have to look like Hemsworths, and women have to be Victoria’s Secret models. So we either strive for that impossible standard or give up altogether and hope our personalities make up for our physical shortcomings. (Granted, honing our personalities is definitely not a bad thing, and that adds to physical attractiveness, too.) But we can choose to not buy into that cookie-cutter, culturally prescribed way of seeing beauty. I’ve said to other single friends of mine before, “God doesn’t have any ugly kids.”

I wish people could see beauty the way I, and many other artists, see it. Besides that it’s part of my job to study people’s nuanced physical features, my Instagram feed is filled with talented illustrators turning ordinary people of ALL shapes, colors, and sizes into amazing characters. As part of my own mental posture, I firmly believe that no one is ugly, and that every single person has their own unique “brand” of beauty. In Lancaster County, where I live, most men I come across have a more conventional taste in women (white, thin, feminine, docile), and I’m… not conventional. But rather than allowing their taste to affect my self-image, I can accept that my brand of beauty is just not what they’re looking for. Besides, I’m not trying to attract all men, or even most men. I just hope to attract one who’ll love me the way I am. (That’s a very, VERY niche market!)

All of this to say, you don’t have to starve yourself or work out for 6 hours a day to be seen as attractive. Start with honing a healthy mental posture. That will affect your physical posture, which will speak volumes to the right people and attract them to who you naturally are.

I’m one of those strange people who makes resolutions at the beginning of the year that I actually keep. For this year, a resolution I made was this: Don’t buy any new art supplies. When I decide to commit to a new creative project or series, I tend to think of what new supplies I need for it. But when I went through all my belongings last fall to prepare for the bed bug exterminator, I found troves of forgotten art supplies hidden in drawers, bags, and my supply cabinet. (My apartment isn’t even that big!) So I thought, why don’t I challenge myself to only use what I already have? 

So all of my new personal work will have a variety: paintings on canvas, paintings on paper, illustrations in sketchbooks, and art with pencil, charcoal, ink, and marker. And I’m excited about that! The question hit me the other day: “What do these limitations make possible?”

I’ve even been trying to find other ways to limit myself. For example, I was invited to all the major Comic Cons this year—San Diego, LA, New York, and Chicago. …But I said no to all of them. (I do get free tickets to them, but I have to pay my own way to get there, and that gets expensive. Plus, I’m just exhausted.) I also don’t really have any travel plans this year. I’m normally able to travel cheaply because I visit friends and family. I stay with them and either ride around with them or borrow their car. But still, it would be nice to save some money. Plus, what would happen if, instead of going far and wide, I went “deeper” and got to know my own home better?

I’ve learned over the years that limitations are what guide us to take decisive action, think of innovative solutions, and make something of our lives. Think about the people who create lasting marriages and strong families. They’re not the celebrity “Ryan Gosling” types who have hoards of attractive, interested prospects. Some women might remember those guys as temporarily being a “good time,” but those guys won’t have a family tree they’ve worked hard to cultivate. A legacy comes from two people committing to each other, intentionally limiting their romantic attention and affection to just that one person. Also, how much more valuable is the one person who’s willing to devote exclusive time and effort to see if they could build a whole life with you, rather than the momentary attention of a lot of attractive but noncommittal dates who are just bored on a Friday night and have the attention span of a gnat?

I’ve never been the kind of woman who’s desperate for male attention. Something my mom always said took root in me at a young age: “Don’t worry about getting a lot of guys’ attention because, in the end, you only end up with one.” So I’m just set on finding one who seems right for me. And my idea of that type has definitely changed in the last 10 years. I used to be attracted to the ones who, on paper, are “free-spirited” and “spontaneous,” but in reality, are noncommittal and immature. Now I’m attracted to the opposite: the type who has a steady presence, who puts his phone away when he talks to you. The type who follows through on commitments, and is reliable, kind, and faithful. The type you don’t describe as “hot” (like a cheap, plastic Ken doll with a fake smile), but “handsome,” like a classic car that’s built to last.

The point is, as a grown woman, I’m over the mindset of craving unlimited options and extravagant resources. If I could do whatever or go wherever I want, I wouldn’t do or go anywhere. If I had a whole line of suitors wanting to date me, I wouldn’t commit to any of them. (Not that I ever have that problem. My current relationship status is: going to a shooting range with my best friend for Galentine’s Day.) …So here’s to having simplicity in my life, and creating more profound things with much less.

I’ve mentioned before that I like documenting life as it’s happening (or while it’s fresh on my mind). That can be journaling, blogging, live-drawing, or just taking photos. While I’m not as active on Twitter anymore, I was active around this time last year and into the summer. I was scrolling back to last year’s Tweets, and I love that they exist as a record of where my mind was. I was hopeful for what the new year would bring. I started going to a new-ish church (the “ish” is a long story) and making new friends. I had just joined a virtual international Christian artist group (some of whom I wound up meeting in person in LA!). And I did over 100 quick portraits of strangers on the Internet.

I just Tweeted that I wanted more portrait practice, so I asked if anyone wanted to volunteer their selfies as reference. Knowing how vulnerable it can be to have someone draw you, I figured I might get 3 or 4 volunteers. After the first 3, I got a flood of requests… and I fulfilled every single one.

I didn’t get a single complaint; quite the opposite. The reactions I got were amazement and gratitude (…and also Venmo tips!). I think there are so many people in the world who’ve never seen the uniqueness in themselves. At best, most people don’t think of themselves as anything special, but at worst, they’ve been bullied or abused into seeing themselves as garbage. 

What I got out of the exercise wasn’t just more portrait practice. I realized what a privilege it was for someone to trust me with their likeness. I became a student of each face, making sure I captured their unique beauty. Faces tell stories; they have laugh lines, smile lines, forehead creases, expressive eyes. While drawing, I had thoughts like, “Wow, he seems like such a warm, fatherly man,” or “She is spunky and creative, probably someone who lights up a room.” 

Here’s what I Tweeted after doing all those: “If you’ve ever felt self conscious about how you look… let me tell you. I’ve been drawing faces for two days now and not a single one is ugly. You bear the image of God. That includes your forehead, smile lines, laugh lines, nose size. Your face is perfect.” (And obviously, that applies to the rest of the body.)

If you’re a resolution person, go into the rest of this year knowing that you look perfect the way you are, and any diet and exercise you choose to do should be about being healthy, not to gain the attention and acceptance of other people. Personally, I find that people are most attractive when they’re being themselves, perfectly in their element. If you have a corny sense of humor, then crack your corny jokes. If you’re a nerd about something, then talk about it. If you have a weird nose, then know that you are one one of 7 billion people who has it; it’s uniquely yours. The right people will love you for you, and God already loves you perfectly.

There was a book I loved as a kid called Amelia’s Notebook. The book itself was formatted like a composition book that school kids use, and it’s basically the very mundane diary of an average 10-year-old girl. Besides the actual diary entries, it was also filled with sketches, mementos, and funny diagrams to add extra commentary. Amelia has an older sister named Cleo (who is absolutely not allowed to read the notebook), a teacher named Ms. Rooney, and a couple of best friends, Leah and Nadia.

Amelia was just an average girl, but I think I loved the mundaneness of her life because my own childhood definitely wasn’t. On my 10th birthday, I was living in the Philippines with my mom, sister, aunts, uncles, and cousins in a sort of gated residential complex, in a part of the country that was prone to monsoons. (Dad was still in the picture at that point, but he was on Army deployment.) They all prepared a feast for my birthday party at my aunt’s house, but it rained that day… to the point of flooding the whole first floor. But as with Filipino families and their parties, the show had to go on (except karaoke, which had to be postponed). So everyone scrambled to put all the electronics on the second floor of the house, stack whatever was stackable, and then eat while standing in knee-deep water. 

Flash floods like that are typical for that area and life goes on, even through the rain. In fact, some of the neighbors sailed by on their canoes on their way to get groceries. For them, it was just Tuesday. 

I might be thinking a lot about childhood things because I’m in the process of creating a schedule that gives me time to write and publish kids’ books. But also, and most importantly… my sister is pregnant and I’m gonna be an auntie! (Which gives me even more motivation to get these books done.) While thinking through what “auntie support” will look like (probably babysitting and storytime), it also hit me… my parents are gonna be grandparents. So I’m thinking about generational lines, and how strange and wonderful it was to have two very different people who lived 10,000 miles away from each other meet in the exact middle (Hawaii) and bring two girls into the world who will forever straddle their parents’ two cultures.

I’ve always loved that my dad balances out being manly (military experience, currently a truck driver, loves old cars) with being a misunderstood creative weirdo who’s dreamed of being a writer. (He’s also an enneagram 4 personality.) I wasn’t always close to my mom, but I am a lot more now since the pandemic. She’s the boisterous, extroverted, life of the party, and is also extremely practical and the hardest-working person I’ve ever known. My parents aren’t perfect people at all, but I’m glad to be a mix of those two different people. 

But anyway, I’m excited to have this new little person being born later this year, and I’m already excited for who they’re going to become.