“Whether you think you can, or you think you can’t–you’re right.”
~ Henry Ford
“Everyone has a purpose in life. Perhaps yours is watching television.”
~ David Letterman
My Personal Strategic Plan (2012 – 2017):
Mission (why I exist)
To live a fun, purposeful, and extraordinary life, and make a positive contribution to the world by inspiring others to do the same.
Vision (what I will be)
I will be the “me” that I have always aspired to be:
Guiding Principles (how I will get there)
Professional: I like to mix business with pleasure and I am very fortunate that I am able to develop my day job into something I really enjoy doing.
Well-Rounded: I have a lot of gaps in my knowledge, and I am a very curious person. Therefore, I want to be proactive in filling those gaps that I find interesting. I will learn:
Courageous: Fear has been the stumbling block in far too many instances in my life. I accept that it is natural to be afraid sometimes, but when fear stands in the way of achieving my goals, then I must find ways to overcome it. The best way to learn is to practice.
There are other things that are just scary to me, but I am determined to conquer that fear: skydiving; getting upside down and doing a handstand.
Compassionate: I accept that I am by nature a selfish person, and this is a selfish goal because it makes me feel good. But if I could benefit others in the process, then it’s definitely worth doing.
Over the years, many people, including many strangers, have told me that I have a good voice and I should use it. Hence, I will record an audio book for the blind. I will mentor someone. Anyone want to be my protégé?
It always makes me happy when people compliment me, and I always feel that I don’t do that for others enough. It takes courage and humility to pay sincere compliments, and I will pay more attention to everyday situations in order to do that more.
Artistic: I have the need to create, but more often than not, I lack the discipline. This must change.
I will publish a short story, write a book, a screenplay, and create a photo essay.
No Regrets: Regrets? They are the worst!
I am showing you my actual personal strategic plan. It is an open template for everyone. My hope is that it will inspire you to think about some of the things you would like accomplish in your life.
This is my normal, and perhaps it will be your normal too.
About Leo Lo
On Leo’s 40th birthday, he set out a 5-year plan to accomplish 45 things before he turns 45. This is his quest to become the person he has always wanted to be: a happy person. From traveling the globe, to conquering his fears, to living a healthy lifestyle, he seeks to live life with curiosity, compassion, and a sense of humor.
Leo is Assistant Professor/Research & Development Librarian at Kansas State University. He was selected by the American Library Association as an Emerging Leader in 2010. He has an M.F.A. in Screenwriting. His first feature screenplay, Rock Paper Scissors, placed as a Top 10 Finalists in the 2009 PAGE International Screenwriting Awards. He is a yogi and a foodie and is pursuing a PhD in Human Nutrition.
Personal Strategic Plan/Manifesto
The 9 Manifesto Principles: http://geoffmcdonald.com/the-manifesto-manifesto/
Creating a Personal Strategic Plan: http://unclutterer.com/2008/09/16/creating-a-personal-strategic-plan/
How to Make a Life List You’ll Actually Do: A Comprehensive Guide: http://www.raptitude.com/2009/09/how-to-make-a-life-list-youll-actually-do-a-comprehensive-guide/
The Holstee Manifesto: http://shop.holstee.com/pages/about#the-manifesto
Be Effective and Productive
The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People: https://www.stephencovey.com/7habits/7habits.php
Start with Why: http://www.startwithwhy.com
Structured Procrasination: http://www.structuredprocrastination.com/
When I was asked to write this article, I had no clue what to write about. My everyday life is just like everyone else’s. I go to work, eat, exercise, read, watch some television. The problem is “normal” simply exists. My normal is an unhealthy obsession with Hello Kitty and Doctor Who (separately, not together), but who doesn’t have at least one unhealthy obsession? I was about to say that these obsessions have nothing to do with my racial background–the subject of this essay–but maybe, in a way, they do. I’m mixed-race–Half White and Half Hawaiian-Filipino-Portuguese-with a smidge of Chinese. Maybe my love of Hello Kitty comes from my Asian-Pacific-Islander side and my love of Doctor Who comes from my mixed-European side. Whether my obsessions are racially based or not, you’re the weirdo for not sharing them. (Remember, this is about my normal, not yours.) But maybe I’m just like everyone else who loves disparate things in America. Either way, I grew up as a whole rather than two halves. Society, however, has made those two halves a much bigger deal than I ever could.
Growing up multi-racial was a non-issue for me as a child. In Torrance, California and its surrounding cities, the population, as well as most of my friends, was multi-racial. Within my family, racial differences came up between my two halves, but rarely was a big deal made about it. When on St. Patrick’s Day I was decked out in green and I pinched my grandmother because she didn’t have any green on, she let me know that pinching her wasn’t okay. Not because she was Tutu, but because she wasn’t Irish. Only I was. When my mom got a sunburn and I got a tan on the same afternoon, I noticed differences in our skin color. But everyone in our family had varying skin colors–the blessing and the curse of being a mixed-race family. Our differences, like “normal,” simply exist. Tan-ability or burn-ability is as normal as being tall or short.
My parents never encouraged or discouraged either race. I could dance hula if I wanted because few things are more Hawaiian than that. I could play the flute if I wanted because few things are more European than that. My dad’s side of the family could trace our ancestry back to the time of the Hawaiian kings, so we had a desire to live with cultural knowledge. My mom’s side of the family had been in America since the American Revolution, so we didn’t have any particularly European traditions that stood the test of time. For vacations, my family took long road trips because that’s what American families do, mixed-race or otherwise. In first grade, we drove from California to Maine and visited my mother’s family all along the way. My mom is a genealogist, so we met living and dead family members. We visited graves on family farms and met cousins so far removed I couldn’t tell you how we were related. But blood isn’t a race; it’s a bond. These predominantly white relatives brought us into their homes and told us stories of our mutual ancestors and their lives. My dad’s family is big, too. Since we were on the Continent, our cousins, uncles, and aunts came to visit us. We opened our doors and told each other stories of our mutual ancestors and their lives. Normal.
Being mixed-race in my family was easy as a young child. Fast forward a few years and racial differences started to become more apparent in my life, especially when I stepped out of my front door. As I grew older, people on the street would stop and ask me “What are you?” and I would answer with pride. Usually, my answer was never sufficient for them because they wanted to place me in their own category–mostly because I look racially ambiguous. Sometimes that included greetings in languages not my own. I lived in Southern California, so looking mixed race often meant “Hispanic or Latino” in many people’s minds. Sometimes it also meant invasive questions.
I learned that when you tell people what race you are, they expect certain things of you. Because I said I was Hawaiian, they assumed that I was born there. Because I didn’t have a working knowledge of the history of Native Hawaiians, I couldn’t explain to them how I was born and raised in Los Angeles and still maintain a Native Hawaiian identity. Blood is a hard thing to explain. Another expectation people have of Hawaiians is that they can dance hula. Or communicate with the land. Or have hair down to the waist. There is no hula or ancient Hawaiian proverb for: I’m from Torrance, so I can instinctually tell you where the 405 is.
Like any other normal teen, I took these expectations to heart. The question of my “Hawaiianness” came under the spotlight in high school, when I questioned and started to change my sense of “normal.” The first major thing that happened was my brother and cousins started to learn more about our Hawaiian side. They spent a week at the Kamehameha Schools Explorations Series camps for children from 5th to 6th grades. My dad and older cousins had gone as well, but due to some confusion and miscommunication, one cousin and I were unable to go the year we turned 11. Back then, they didn’t offer multiple years to attend like they do now. Back then, it was a one-shot, now-or-never situation. For me, it turned into never. Since I never went, I never knew what I missed. That is, until my brother and cousins came back with songs and skills I knew nothing about. I realized, as a teenager, that I knew next to nothing about what it meant to be Hawaiian. The situation became even more apparent to me when I met another Native Hawaiian in high school who would test me on what I didn’t know and then make fun of me. In my yearbook he wrote, “I hope you enjoy your poi with sugar.” Apparently, it was not the correct way to eat poi, even though that was the way my Hawaiian grandmother always prepared it for me. Being the tita I am (before I really knew what a tita was), I told this guy off and tried to pretend that it didn’t bother me. But it got me thinking that I was a fake. That I shouldn’t tell people I was Hawaiian because what about me, other than the blood that ran through my veins, was Hawaiian? Without the shared experience of Kamehameha Schools Exploration Series, I stopped being a normal Hawaiian, according to others. And the sad thing is–my lack of knowledge of Hawaiian culture made me a very normal American.
I wondered if “normal” was out of reach, if I was already too white-washed, too mainland, too pale to learn about this part of my culture. I was angry because I had always been confident. I had never had a problem with who I was. My whole existence was then called into question because of a few curious people and one mean kid at school. During my last two years of high school, after all of this questioning began, I started to explore Hawaiianness, what it meant to me and to others to have Hawaiian blood. I learned a hula from my grandmother (who chastised my skills at first, telling me I danced like a tourist) and taught it to my theater arts class. I tried to learn how to make a haku lei, but my grandmother’s patience and my stubbornness got in the way. During that first year of college I stuck to trying Hawaiian foods since that seemed easy enough. After being uncomfortable in my Hawaiianness, I tried to create a new sense of “normal,” taking comfort in the universal language of food.
It wasn’t until the summer of 2004, however, when I went to my first Hawaiian family reunion that everything changed for me. I got to see the land that my ancestors lived on, just like I got to see the lands of my ancestors on my mom’s side when I was a young child. I got to experience the weather and beaches that I had only seen in pictures. I got to see the hardship that many Hawaiians live with first hand. The traditions that they keep alive and those they’ve modified. I realized that I didn’t know who I was or what Hawaiianness meant until I learned where I came from. It wasn’t until I could breathe the air and taste the fruits of the land without the aftertaste of import that I understood what my “normal” was. Normal is a lived experience. I am Hawaiian but I am very much more. I feel comfortable on the Continent because I am steeped in this place’s tastes and smells, but Hawaii’s are familiar, too.
When I got back from Hawai’i, my school focuses shifted. I did more research on Hawaiians past and present. I learned about the politics that surround having Native, indigenous blood. And I learned that in many ways, many people would never see me as Hawaiian enough because of my mixed heritage. I belonged to the Daughters of the American Revolution and was a Kau Inoa card holder. I am more than a Native Hawaiian. I saw both sides of the problems and solutions, and I decided that my focus would become Hawaiians on the Continent. The Hawaiians that left the islands, who shaped my future, the Hawaiians who are questioned about their “-nesses.” Hawaiian-ness, White-ness, whatever-ness are part of my life experience, too. While we are asked what we are too regularly for the question to not be accusatory, I learned that our experience is enough. Like any lesson about learning who you are and where you’re going, all you have to be is enough of yourself, enough for those who love you, enough to make your ancestors proud. All the different parts of me make one whole, and that whole wants to be the best possible representative of all the different parts. I am proud of my ancestors who sailed across the Atlantic and the Pacific into the great unknown and all I can hope is that I make them proud too.
Resources on being Mixed-Race and “Ness”
Resources on/for Continental Hawaiians
Hawai’i & Race
One of the joys of being mixed-race is that for a lot of people, my face is an open invite for them to approach and start playing the “what are you?” game. Doesn’t matter if I’m waiting for a bus, standing in line for a Daniel Craig movie, or just staring longingly at the Thai lime-and-chili cashews at Trader Joe’s. There’s something about my visage that’s irresistible when it comes to trying to tag me minority-wise. And it’s even better when I decide to fess up since I usually don’t fit the ethnicity they’ve selected for me: “No—you don’t look it.” Or my all-time favorite: “That’s not it—”
So after decades of being an ethnic Rorschach test to strangers, I began wondering: why not make my looks work for me? Heck, I’m ambiguous enough that I look like I was born in a kimono, flamingo dress, or burka. Why not hire myself out to folks who need that little touch of diversity? I’ve even worked up the ad:
Your cocktail parties looking a little too bland ethnically? Tired of friends and coworkers always implying you just aren’t diverse enough? Or do you just want a person-of-color friend without having to deal with the time and liberal guilt involved? Why not hire an ethnically ambiguous, white-collar professional? In other words: why not hire me! Yes, now you can hire your own minority professional for those situations when having a sea of Caucasians just won’t do. As a mixed-race librarian with a questionable ethnic appearance, I can meet most of your minority needs without looking too multiculti, thus avoiding the risk of scaring off administrators, neighbors or that cute person of color you keep bumping into at Starbucks. For a modest hourly rate, I am available for
- Standing behind you during those pesky press conferences when you address why your institution is woefully lacking in some issue that is of concern to minorities and the national media. Nodding in sympathy is extra.
- Publicity photo shoots in which I stare intently at any object representing your business or organization (computer screens, recycling bins, Nobel Prize winning professors, etc.).
- Showing up at the Q&A session for your presentation to ask a question that really is a pat on the back for your diversity efforts.
- Fund-raising events where I stand by your sushi or Mexican hors d’oeurves table and pronounce individual dishes with the appropriate accent whenever someone who counts is within hearing distance.
- Community or civic services where you need someone on your team who looks like the people you’re helping while television crews are recording your efforts.
But why limit yourself to professional events? Why not hire me for those social situations when having a minority BFF is an advantage? For the same nominal fee, I will
- Join your friends or family at the ethnic restaurant of choice and loudly announce it’s the only place in town that serves food just as authentic as “back home.” (NOTE: you pay for the meal, including all the alcohol I drink to get through the event.)
- Make you feel less of an interloper or provide cultural street cred by accompanying you to any desired ethnic event: Obon festivals, Cinco de Mayo parties, pow-wows—you name it.
- Attend dinner parties where I kill time while guests are waiting for you to thaw out Trader Joe’s mini-quiches by letting them play “what’s your ethnicity?” Guests are allowed enough questions before I announce my background and dinner served.
- Don the uniform of your choice while friends are chatting at your home. Impress your friends by having me wandering about in a housekeeper, gardener, or nail technician outfit.
I’m also available for those personal requests, ones where an “exotic” touch is needed for the attention you seek. For a one-time fee, I will provide a photo of me for an online dating profile. Warning: A significant surcharge will be assessed for Craigslist and OKCupid profiles.
DISCLAIMERS : Any event requiring me to lift more than twenty pounds or use a power tool is extra. No actual housework, gardening, or nail buffing provided. Eye rolling permitted whenever colleague, guest, or potential date scoffs at perceived lack of ethnicity. Chopstick in hair and/or non-descript Asian accent extra. No actual dating provided.
Linda Ueki Absher is a humanities reference librarian at Portland State University Library and has been known to use a fork in Chinese restaurants.
During the 2012 ALA Midwinter Meeting in Dallas, Texas, David Lankes led a two-day conversation on empowering our communities to seek, define, and use our voices for positive transformation. A key point Lankes made during these sessions is the idea that libraries can, and should, play important roles to foster such change. He also offered that transformation of our communities needs transformation of the profession. First, we must ask some questions, converse, and seek understanding of our community’s constituencies.
APALA’s What’s Your Normal? feature series fosters such understanding through professional and personal insight. Within this spirit, I wrote the third essay, “‘Everyone You Meet is Fighting a Great Battle.’” Through it, I hoped to bring awareness that disability is not just something that manifests within an individual person’s body and mind. Societal forces and interactions create conditions that define ideas we take for granted: “disability,” “Asian,” “American,” “normal.” These, in turn, affect us, our institutions, and our libraries’ patrons. Seeking to foster empowerment and transformation in our communities requires us to better understand the concerns and issues our patrons have, regardless of how these are clearly and loudly expressed.
APALA Web Content Subcommittee Chair
The concept of “normal” is filled with ideas we often take for granted. It is also filled with anxieties about measuring up to those ideas, which can sometimes be too lofty to be realistic or attainable. One such idea is the notion that “normal” constitutes only one, undisputed identity. The second essay in the new APALA What’s Your Normal? feature series comes from APALA member Alanna Aiko Moore, the Interim Assistant Department Head for Information Services and User Education and the Librarian for Ethnic Studies and Gender Studies for the Social Science and Humanities Library at University of California, San Diego. In her essay, “More Than Enough: Embracing Multiple Identities,” Alanna offers a slice of her personal life—shaped by more than one identity intersecting others. She asks, “What does our community look like? What intersecting identities are present?” A list of resources on bisexuality and multi-racial identity accompanies Alanna’s piece.
Thank you, Alanna, for a very thought-provoking essay. Felicitations to you and Jan!
APALA Web Content Subcommittee Chair
APALA is launching a new series called “What’s Your Normal?” that will feature personal essays, accompanied by resource lists, highlighting the different kinds and forms of identities within APA populations.
The idea for this series is an essay, entitled “Six Yards of Normal,” written by Gurpreet Kaur Rana, who is Sikh Canadian and Global Health Coordinator at the Taubman Health Sciences Library at the University of Michigan. I had asked Preet to write an essay in response to the mass shooting at the Sikh Temple of Wisconsin on August 5, 2012, and what she came up with was an extremely personal and poignant essay, in which we learn a little bit about what is “normal” for her. I was especially struck by her last sentences:
We need to have a discourse on “normal”. You need to learn about my “normal”. I need to learn about your “normal”. We need to be aware and educated about the communities and people that make up the fabric of this country. Our differences do not make us different.
Preet is absolutely correct about the need to have such a discourse. Hence, the idea for the series was born.
“Six Yards of Normal” is the inaugural essay in the “What’s Your Normal?” series. The hope is that APALA members (and other interested parties) will heed Preet’s call to “learn about your ‘normal’” and offer a slice or two of what is ordinary or typical in their our individual lives but may be uncommon for or unknown to others. By sharing our stories, I believe that not only will we learn about each other, but we would also showcase the diversity of identities within APA populations.
Each essay will be accompanied by a list of resources, to which others are free to contribute. The links will eventually be compiled, expanded on, and put in the resources section of the APALA website. With the personal glimpses in the essays and the vetted resources in the lists, this series, thus, offers us the opportunity to provide both subjective and objective information.
If you are interested in contributing to the series, please send your essays, along with a list of resources, to Melissa Cardenas-Dow (melissa.cardenasdow[at]gmail[dot]com). These will be published at regular intervals and will go in the features section of the APALA website.
APALA President, 2012-2013