This memoir is a work in progress. It contains some of the stories of my life as a songwriter and teacher, reflecting back on my college experiences, travel adventures, and the philosophical and spiritual ideas that have influenced me. I tend to be a private person, so it took a lot of work for me to write this in order to share with you. It's also pretty long, so please take breaks if you decide to explore each link and follow the threads to the end. Hope you enjoy it!

Where my life story begins:

One version of the story begins with a childhood experience. When I was 11, one of my piano compositions, titled The Ghost, became a national finalist in the Reflections Arts Program. This was a contest that prompted students to write on a designated theme for that year: "Suddenly you turn around, and..." I remember listening to the other two finalists' songs, thinking that they were so much more technically complex and "classical" than mine. How could my song have placed among them? I felt grateful, yet somehow unworthy. But my family suggested that the contest wasn't about being complex or imitating great composers; my piece won because it was original and fit the year's theme perfectly. It was theatrical! The Ghost resonated with everyone who heard it because they felt and experienced the meaning of the song. While it would take many more years for me to understand the value in reaching people through song, this was the start. I continued writing songs from that point onward, mostly in private, but always seeking to learn and improve.
A childhood drawing of my grandma's house: an inspiration for the Providence musicals

How music led to musical theatre:

In ninth grade, my English teacher, Mr. Linn, mentored me in writing a play for our school to perform. I called it House of Providence and wrote 14 original songs to make it a musical. Mr. Linn guided me tremendously in my intellectual development as well as in acquiring sklls in theatre and storytelling. He inspired me to appreciate the beauty of art and the richness of life. In writing House of Providence, I developed my talent for creating songs to express characters and their inner thoughts and feelings. At that point, I became interested in singing and acting and performed in a few community shows, including Fiddler on the Roof and Les Miserables. I continued writing songs and even recorded a few. But I didn't end up pursuing music or theatre as a career after I graduated.

Why I didn't pursue music right away:

Growing up, my traditional sense of responsibility (that is, the belief that I must always keep to the "tried and true" path) always seemed to restrict my creative ambitions. In order to be a high achiever, I felt I needed to apply my best energy towards schoolwork rather than creative passions. The things I was naturally good at--music and math--became less of a priority, while my harder subjects--English, history, Spanish, and interpersonal subjects like theatre and debate--took priority. I was an auditory learner with a unique way of processing event narratives, and I struggled to no end with reading comprehension (this was a strange paradox since I was a deep thinker). As a result, I developed a relentless drive to learn to read and write in an academic way. Deep analysis of language was key. Thus, instead of music, I pursued my interest in linguistics and language learning, particularly learning Spanish. My college years were rigorous and yet highly enjoyable. Intellectual achievement was the necessity that became my passion.
A library in Mexico City

Why I became a teacher:

I had never actually considered a career in music or theatre; teaching seemed much more viable. Plus, working with children was something I genuinely loved and was good at, and public edutation was something I believed in (still do!). I had volunteered in elementary classrooms all throughout high school and college. Not to mention, my intellectual successes as a student gave me a hard-earned skill set that I wanted to share with others. Going to graduate school for my teaching credential was the logical path. All the while, I struggled to speak Spanish. (I had to get a degree in it for that very reason!) I really worked hard at learning to communicate, empathize, and acquire a cultural framework that was not native to me. Through this struggle, I found my vocation and cause: teaching Spanish to middle school students in order to help them gain a deeper understanding of the world and communicate with people of different of cultural and linguistic backgrounds. This was my goal, my dream, the inspiration for my teaching career.

What resulted from teaching:

Through teaching, I gained many valuable insights about the world and about myself. Though I primarily taught Spanish, I was also able to teach drama and mentor students in writing plays. I loved this role, not only because I was giving back to the world in the same way Mr. Linn had mentored me, but also because I got to write songs for those plays. So, my dream began to shift: I wanted to help my students develop their latent abilities and write and to shine in the spotlight, just as I had done when I created House of Providence​. And yet, to become a master teacher, I had to learn to relate with all kinds of students, particularly those who had different abilities than I had, and to teach according to their true needs rather than the lessons I wanted to give. For this reason--and perhaps it was another passion born of necessity--I constantly put myself in positions of social challenge, wherein I had to expand my comfort zone and learn how different people tick. During summer breaks, I travelled the world, met people, experienced new cultures, and brought back what I learned into the classroom to share with my students and colleagues.
Pyramid of the Sun, Teotihuacan, Mexico

How I briefly considered a spiritual path:

The wealth of cultural knowledge I gained through travel gave me a kind of social and intellectual confidence that I wanted to share with others. My study of different languages and cultures quite easily led to the study of comparative religion and philosophy, which coincided with my growing interest in New Thought spirituality and my involvement with the Unity Church. I wanted to teach not only children but also adults who could appreciate the philosophy behind worldly knowledge. I wanted to teach not just academic skills but also life skills. I began giving travel talks and public lectures, distilling what I had learned about the languages, cultures, and religions of different countries. There were also a few times when I participated as the guest speaker during Sunday services. I even wrote and published a novel, called The Clepsydra, based on the goal of interfaith coexistence and Unity principles. It was all well received.

But there was an uneasiness in my heart. It was called hubris. The more one learns, the more one learns that one doesn't know. Everyone has their own perspective, and deep down, I acknowledge that my own belief system, no matter how hard I try to make it look beautiful and complete, has messy gaps and holes and errors. From a certain perspective, I don't really understand much of anything, nor do I think I am qualified to counsel anyone on making life decisions or on what to believe. I just live by trial and error and let my errors inform me of how I am doing. Even as I write this, I hope that readers will think critically for themselves and keep to their own truths. (Please keep this in mind if you read about my extended travel experiences). I would never want someone to believe in something from my perspective that they haven't discovered to be true for them.

Why I took time off from teaching:

Teaching, writing, and public speaking were all genuine passions and skills that I had developed slowly and methodically over time. However, at this stage of my life, these acts felt forced. They were passions born out of necessity. They were born from a desire to pay my debts to the world by emulating the great teachers, authors, and faith leaders I had encountered. When doing these things, I would always get hit in the head with hubris, telling me that I don't know as much as I thought I did.

Then I started listening to the voice inside telling me to be myself instead of trying to live up to someone else's image. If I was to truly make a difference in the world, I would need to look to my heart rather than my head, to my inner calling rather than to my idols. I would need to surrender the desire to be some kind of intellectual and moral authority and accept that I'm just one person living in the middle of it all. I will never be done making mistakes, and there is no perfect teaching or philosophy that will make the journey complete. But music can help us enjoy it. This is why I want to learn to co-create with others by feeling the beauty and glory of life through song. Ideas are easily taught and easily forgotten; lessons are healthy for some but detrimental to others. But music--especially the kind of poignant music that stirs passion in the soul--might be a path of connection, unity, and fulfillment. Songwriting might be how I can relate with people in a real way.

In 2019, therefore, I took an indefinite leave of absence from my teaching job in order to test out a lifestyle based on creativity and improvisation.
Playing the Bolivian charango at Point Ruston, Tacoma

Where I am now:

I have only just begun this experiment of living a creative lifestyle. I have no idea specifically where this path will lead, except that I will write more original musicals. Subbing in schools, meanwhile, has been incredibly fun. I like to think I'm still making a difference as a teacher in this new way. This year has so far given me the opportunity to reflect and recenter my goals in life. What you are reading now is a result of that reflection. Now that you've read the overview, please enjoy the full memoir by following the link below and continuing through the subsequent pages: