Welcome 2021

Well, 2020 is finally over. A long and relentless year, marked by social isolation, unrelenting political unrest, and worst of all: the loss of more than 340,000 American lives to the Coronavirus. The number is so big that it is almost impossible to fathom—it’s about six times the population of my hometown, gone.

When I need comfort, when I need consolation, when I need hope, I always turn to words. Poems by Philip Levine, Jack Gilbert, Naomi Shihab Nye. Novels that provide escape yet challenge me to think. Podcasts and radio interviews and white noise.

And yet: 2020 brought me a beautiful, healthy son, cheeks apple-red, smile big and full of wonder. 2020 brought us the first Black, southeast Asian woman vice president. 2020 brought us long days stuck with our “pod,” the people with whom we have quarantined, our worlds both small and intimate. 2020 forced a laser focus on our immediate environs, on the food we eat, the projects we can create when stuck inside for weeks, months at a time.

I find myself at a crossroads in my professional life as a writer. I want more than anything to tell meaningful stories of meaningful people. I want my words to create meaning. Inspire action. Over the past four years I’ve been lucky enough to interview Spartans whose stories have moved and compelled me. I plan to continue doing so, but it is hard not being on campus. Here are a few recent stories I’m proud to share:


My goal this year is to focus on gratitude. To not take any of this for granted: our air, our water, our limbs, our songs, our dinners together, every day that dawns bright and new. I hope to listen more and talk less, to value the power of my voice. I hope to write more fiction, to judge myself less, to continue devouring audiobooks, to pick up the pace on my sauntering runs. But more than anything: I hope to hope.