Learning to crawl part 1.

The photo above was taken in Berkeley, CA, when I was 17 years old, around the same time as the events described in the blog below.

I remember my first job at The Gap on Saratoga Avenue in San Jose, California. I was 17 years old and quite excited to start working on the first day, and I vividly recall the last day as well. The manager—though I can’t remember her name—remains a clear memory in my mind. She was an older white lady, perhaps in her 60s, with jet black hair. Her physique was neither skinny nor obese but somewhere in between. She often spoke to me in a passive, slightly undermining tone, leaving me in a constant state of uncertainty—wondering if I should feel offended or if she was simply being overly nice.

At that time, I lived in a space that masqueraded as a bedroom but was actually meant for office use. It was part of a building that housed three other businesses across the hallway. Directly opposite my door was a masseuse, and further down the hall were an accountant and a marriage counselor. Interactions among us were minimal, usually limited to a simple “hello” or a nod of the head. Being 17 and undoubtedly looking the part, I felt like the odd one out. I was a child secretly living amongst adults.

My office space was furnished with a blue futon from IKEA and a large, bulky desk made of cheap, coated plywood. Back then, I had no inkling of how these days of my adolescence would shape my future actions and the direction of my life.