Rest In Power, Caesar

Striking a pose, 2012

Caesar Hu-Stiles, born July 2004 in South Carolina, died this morning in his sleep in Southern California. He was gentle giant with the loudest purr.

Caesar was my very first cat — I only had dogs growing up. He came to me as a soft, black kitten with soft medium-length hair and a long poof of a tail. My friend Myra had originally bought the kitten from a breeder and suspected he was weaned from his cat mom too early, so Myra fed him from a tiny bottle until he was old enough to join me. She named him Caesar because he behaved so imperiously — always quietly surveying the situation and benevolently lording over us like a wise old man, even though he was just a kitten back then.

My last photo with Caesar, a couple months ago.

I remember him playing inside cabinets when he was small, and taking languorous naps slumping his body over the corner of the beds, like a sloth.

He is the only cat I’ve ever known who always came when we called, like a dog does. He could be outside with his brother cats, as far away as down the block, but when I called him from the porch and he’d instantly come trotting home.

He spoke often with his distinctive meows, seeming to be in dialogue with us, and he could call us at a high volume when he needed attention.

He loved basking in the sunshine, lazy afternoons, and napping with other creatures, including the human babies that appeared over the years. When we held him, he liked us to drape his body over a shoulder — that brought on the loudest purrs. He never scratched, he never made messes, he never tried to run away despite having outdoor-indoor privileges. He was so accommodating and easy as a pet that I once forgot to trim his nails for so long that they wound up growing into his nail beds. It’s illustrative of our relationship, about which I feel so heart-broken today. I took Caesar, and that he’s always been at my side, for granted.

He was my constant companion. He lived 17 years, in two different countries, three US states and the District of Columbia, and on both American coasts.

Cat nap with Baby Isa, 2015

He put up with chaotic children and a series of my other cats, the beagle dog Saidee and a few other creatures we’d pet-sit, each who would compete for food and attention and love.

He loved me fiercely. One time he showed it by bringing me home a bird he killed while I was at work. When I came home he was splayed out on the living room floor behind the bird, like Kate Winslet ready for Leo to draw her. Stunned and recoiling, I had to have a friend rush over to remove the dead bird, but I understood the significance of the gesture.

With Saidee the Beagle, 2011

It guts me to have an animal by side for so long — through my entire adult life — and to lose him. There were three pets that had been with me from young adulthood into middle age — Saidee the beagle (died 2015), Cheese the cat (died 2017) and Caesar, who died this morning. Now there is no four-legged connection to those halcyon days of my youth. That trail has ended.

He died sometime overnight, at home and at peace. Yani, our indefatigable nanny and helper, slept on the couch to be near him and make sure he was comfortable since he had stopped eating and used all his strength to meow loudly to each of us on Tuesday, which I knew in my gut was a goodbye.

The girls examined his body before I drove his body to the vet for cremation.

“Look at his eyes,” I overheard daughter Eva, saying to her sister. “He was looking up at the sun one last time.” Eva has called on us to eat Caesar salad, Little Caesar’s Pizza and give a loud family meow together for dinner tomorrow, in his honor.

Rest in power, Emperor. Your quiet presence made every house we shared a home. Thank you for tolerating me. I miss you so much already.

When baby Eva came home, 2012.
At home in Korea, 2015. Photo by Haeryun Kang.

Exiting the Pandemic

There was a fleeting moment in the middle of the first lockdowns, when everyone nurtured sourdough starters and kitchen gardens, when I thought we’d emerge from the pandemic more human, more connected with nature, more deeply connected with one another.

Instead, as my kids returned to school in real life this week (first time in 13 months) and I returned to flying for work, I felt thrust back into the capitalistic machine, a robotic cog, moving through the airport at the highest efficiency and working my various jobs until late at night each night, because there were not enough hours in a day.

How’d we all get knocked to our knees, our lives so small and contained, social justice reckonings in every direction, but not try and interrogate or upend America’s workism, nay, workaholism? If the pandemic taught us anything, it’s that nothing about the way we live is inevitable. So why not collectively live better, do better, and be less beholden to profit, growth, status, wealth? We can individually opt out, sure, but the larger systemic forces remain so stubbornly the same.

It exhausts me. I am so tired already, after just a week or so of being fully vaccinated and a handful of days no longer being a teacher and caregiver at the same time. It feels like the companies I work for and the clients we’re chasing and the objective standards for “success” are all unchanged, despite the fact I am walking around in new skin.

Me: Weren’t we supposed to get a reset of our values?

Friend Tim: Nah, we just have to work harder to make up for the past 13 months.

TOO REAL.

The Sexual, Submissive Asian Woman Trope Didn’t Come Out of Nowhere

Following the Atlanta tragedy, so many stronger writers than me took on the exhausting task of making visible some of the previously invisible traumas of living as an Asian woman in America. But I wanted to do something, contribute something useful to help better explain this moment.

Since I’m in LA, I did a Hollywood-related story for VICE News Tonight, about how the makers and shapers of pop culture have perpetuated dangerous tropes about Asian ladies.

#StopAAPIHate: Recommended Reading

Source: Flickr/Becker1999

We are at a moment in our national reckoning over race in which racism against Asians is finally in the spotlight, despite having existed for ages. I am so devastated by the thousands of racist attacks on Asians in the past year and grief-stricken over the killings of eight people at spas in Atlanta on Tuesday, six of them Asian women.

We have since learned they were former elementary school teachers, US Army brides, mothers and sisters and friends, just like so many of us.

“I cried all day,” my friend Lucy texted me. “They could have been my mom, they could have been my sister.” We Asian Americans and especially Asian women have been reaching out and supporting one another always, but never more obviously and visibly than this week.

These past week was fear, anxiety and hangover symptoms all mixed into one feeling. I was intermittently hyperactive and adrenaline-fueled, despairing and exhausted and fried and scattered in-between. I don’t know how they’ve done it, but some scholars and writers have managed to put the complicated racial dynamics for Asians and Asian women into important historical and socio-economic context. Here are the readings I recommend:

The Deep American Roots of the Atlanta Shootings, by May Jeong in the New York Times

“Anti-Asian violence is also anti-women violence, anti-poor violence, and anti-sex-work violence, our fates are entwined.”

Why This Wave of Anti-Asian Racism Feels Different, by Cathy Park Hong in The Atlantic

“The act of violence itself is wrong. You cannot excuse it. I think many Asian Americans have never talked about it, and so white people still don’t believe that Asian Americans face racism. Because we’re invisible, the racism against us has also been invisible.”

Racism, sexism must be considered in Atlanta case, by Kimmy Yam for NBC News

“Killing Asian American women to eliminate a man’s temptation speaks to the history of the objectification of Asian women, whose value is only in relation to men’s fantasies… akin to ‘I raped her bc her skirt was too short.'”

A Letter to My Fellow Asian Women Whose Hearts Are Still Breaking, by R.O. Kwon in Vanity Fair

“Still and always, hypersexualized, ignored, gaslit, marginalized, and disrespected as we’ve been, I am so fortified, so alive, when I’m with us.”

My Son Is Bullying His Asian Classmate About the Pandemic, How Should We Punish His Racism? Advice column from Nicole Chung, in Slate

“Resisting racist scapegoating of the type we’ve seen directed at Asians requires more than the passive hope or assumption that your kid won’t hear such hateful things or believe them.”

Paddle Prattle

A belated birthday outing with Friend Janet

Long curious about stand-up paddleboarding, I waited until my late 30’s to finally give it a try. And only with the prodding of my Canadian-Californian friend, Janet, who decided to take me for my birthday. (Janet’s daughter: “But Auntie Elise’s birthday was last month! And we already got her a cake!”)

Things that happened:

  • Serious trouble figuring out how to steer.
  • Wound up in a little cove with kids on the banks, watching me struggle. Young boy, maybe 10 years old, said, “It’s okay, I was wobbly my first time, too.” He proceeds to coach me from land, encouraging me to think of the paddle as a scoop and use my arms more. I told him, “I hope my kids will be as kind and encouraging as you,” and he goes, “You look so young to have kids of your own!” (I LOVE THIS KID.)
  • Slow-motion crashed into a boat, almost tipped over. Janet couldn’t stop laughing and had to get on all fours on her paddleboard because she was in stitches. She had to explain to me how steering worked, again.
  • Got passed by a sailboat called MacGyver.
  • Something tells me I looked quite ridiculous. The dudes on the motor boats that passed us when we finally got into the channel actually yelled from their boats, “Don’t fall over!”
Felt so relaxing to be out on the open water and we both discussed how fortunate we were to live ten minutes away from this.

The Best Pandemic Birthday

Jenn (not pictured) and Drew (left) hosted one of two small, distanced birthday gatherings. Sam Sanders hosted night two, on a crazy windy night.

Hopefully this will be the only pandemic birthday. Seriously. But damn, I feel so overwhelmed by the birthday love.

I have made no secret of my despair and how excruciating I’ve found the past year to be. Knowing this, despite the distance, my dearest loved ones showed up in ways they could. My friends proved how well they know me by making sure my door didn’t stop ringing with food deliveries and found ways to socialize, within limits. Thank you for this haul:

An Olive Garden(!) gift certificate

A whale watching tour (where we saw two whales and HUNDREDS of dolphins when our boat came upon their pod)

A pineapple lychee boba from the San Gabriel Valley

Cupcakes and the best banana pudding, from Magnolia Bakery, delivered to my door

Two mini-cakes from my fave bakery, Angel Maid

A giant box of snacks, also delivered to the door

An outdoor, distanced get together hosted by Jenn and Drew

A second outdoor, distanced bday soiree hosted by Sam Sanders

A sushi dinner on my actual birthday, in Janet’s backyard

A giant strawberry cake from my daughters

A surprise Doordash delivery of seven(!) different boba teas and a shaved ice delivered straight to my door

A book about how to unleash my creativity using the tricks of advertising

Assorted cannabis gummies and chocolate

“Zhong Sauce,” which is apparently some amazing hot sauce you can put on anything

A “morning hangover cure” bottled beverage

To sum up: Enough sugar to plunge me straight into diabetes

And a personal message (and song) from Kato Kaelin, which topped everything.

Hundreds of dolphins danced by us on a whale watching tour

Kato Brought It

Y’all know I’m obsessed with the OJ Simpson story and trial and believe it is America in microcosm. So when Friend Liz surprised me with a personalized video message from KATO KAELIN you can bet I totally lost my mind, collapsed into a heap of laughter, tears and delight on the sidewalk, and made so much of a ruckus that my neighbor came rushing out thinking I needed an ambulance.

He even sang a song

Liz, I love you. Garrett said it best…

Free Time With A Shrink

Psychiatrist Dr. Mark Goulston asked me to be a guest on his show, and I never turn down time with therapists. So we ended up having a wide-ranging (and rather discursive) conversation about this once-in-a-century global pandemic we’re all enduring, the roots of my identity, how to pay better attention and deepen our relationships and a lot more.

Check it out if you’re interested!

My 40 Books of 2020, A Look Back

From the lobby of Penguin Random House, New York.

After Trump was elected, I made it a goal to spend more time reading books, as an escape from the ephemeral headlines that were zapping my brain and frying my soul. In 2017, 2018 and 2019 I read at a pace of a book a week.

This year I signed a deal with Dutton, a division of Penguin Random House, to write my own actual book! But when it came to reading books, I didn’t do much of what I intended.

Non-Fiction Favorites:

Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott

Wow, No, Thank you, Samantha Irby

The Masters Tools Will Never Dismantle The Masters House, Audre Lorde

Don’t Call Us Dead: Poems, Danez Smith

Between the World and Me, Tanehisi Coates

Minor Feelings, Cathy Park Hong

Fiction Favorites:

Someone Who Will Love You In All You Damaged Glory, Raphael Bob Waksberg

The First Bad Man, Miranda July

Tender is the Night, F. Scott Fitzgerald

How Much Of These Hills Is Gold?, C. Pam Zhang

Started but Didn’t Finish: Pale Fire, Vladimir Nabokov. I know, I know, such a classic. I just got too distracted. The Night of the Gun, by David Carr. I am a great admirer of that late journalist, and he signed Stiles’ copy of it, but neither of us had gotten around to reading the book. I made it about halfway through but lost interest. The Sexual Life of Catherine M, which the poet/artist Maggie Smith cited as an inspiration for her work. I don’t know if it was the translation from French or the lack of a structure but I just could not get through it.

Picking ‘Em: I had been prioritizing works by women and people of color, but this year I just read anything I was reviewing for work, books my friends recommended, or art by artists I already like. For example, the end of Bojack Horseman swelled and broke my heart, so I had to read its creator’s short story collection. In the fall I reconnected with Matt Weiner, a hypersmart dude who wrote Mad Men, so a couple of the books at the end of my year were from his recommendations.

Books by Author Gender

Books by Classification

Reading Habits

I still read on my Kindle, and got a second one this year because I misplace my Kindle so much. Recall from my previous years’ posts that I read the most on planes. This year I spent less time on planes than I have since I was maybe 18 years old. So that evaporated my dedicated book reading time. I still love it, though, and just need to be more disciplined about reading at home.

If you’re curious, here’s my full 2020 book list.

Previous Years in Reading

2019 | 2018 | 2017

Credit to Nicole Zhu, a friend and fellow book-lover who inspired me to start the 52/52 challenge a few years ago. And big thanks to Matty, who makes the reading post so pretty every year. The code behind my books visualizations is available, so you can do this with YOUR reading data. too.

The Videos That Brought Me Joy In 2020

It goes without saying 2020 was a Vegas buffet of awfulness and suffering. But damn, there were a few video snippets that brought me such joy when I saw them that I made a note to round them up at the end of the year. Herewith:

The moment these two kids discovered the drum solo in the middle of “In the Air Tonight”

This genius Yakult+Sprite+soju smoothie demo, on TikTok:

@narttanicha

this taste like strawberry milkshake 😲 #fyp #soju #tuesday

♬ ดี๊ดี (UNEXPECTED) – Jaylerr & Paris

This breakdown of Rudy Giuliani’s COVID-spreading ways on TikTok:

@sloppy_donuts

#bidenharris2020 #democrat #biden2020 #democratsoftiktok #germfree

♬ original sound – Sloppy donuts

This recounting of a beach date is my fave TikTok of the year:

@kyleprue

im drunk here’s a story #foryoupage #fyp #voiceeffects #TimeforTENET

♬ original sound – Kyle Prue

BTS’ “Dynamite” dropped sometime in the summer when we were in a curfew (for the protests and potential police violence) in the midst of a stay-at-home order (for the plague). And damn, it is still such a bop.

And of course, this moment at an LA gas station, the night the election was finally called for Biden.