At the end of my course, a student told me, “You make things so easy!”  

That really made my day. In a field where things can get super complicated and hard to follow, making something easy to understand isn’t always simple. It’s more than just knowing the material inside and out — it’s about knowing how people learn, spotting where they get stuck, and figuring out how to help them past it.  

To me, being able to simplify something complex doesn’t mean dumbing it down. It means stripping away the confusion and getting to the core of what really matters. It’s about clarity, not shortcuts. It means you respect your audience enough to give them the tools to truly understand, not just memorize.

When someone tells you that you made something easy for them, they’re not just complimenting your knowledge — they’re acknowledging your ability to connect, to translate complexity into clarity. That’s the moment you realize you didn’t just pass along information; you shared understanding. You took down the barriers, and what seemed like a wall became a doorway.  

For anyone who’s ever taught, explained, or guided someone through a tough concept, you know that feeling. It’s seeing the light bulb go off, the “aha!” moment when their confusion turns into confidence. And that’s why making things easy to understand will always be the compliment that means the most to me.

Grad school felt like a daily battle against my own limits. My professor? The toughest I’d ever met — I nicknamed him the Devil Teacher. Every day, he pushed me to the edge. I questioned everything. I was exhausted. Honestly, there were times I thought I’d never make it through.

But looking back now, I realize my Devil Teacher wasn’t that devilish after all. Sure, I probably rolled my eyes more times than I can count, but all the sweat and tears? They paid off. In the end, I came out stronger.

To blow off steam during those years, I started drawing a comic series all about him — Devil Teacher Comics. When I graduated, I handed him the collection as a goodbye gift. I still remember the look on his face when he saw all the comics of me getting ‘tortured’ by his critiques. He laughed!

So yeah, thanks, Devil Teacher. Those moments stuck with me — and, honestly, they made me who I am today.

The year’s almost over, and I’m finally getting all my work stuff wrapped up. But last week, I got to run a workshop for my engineering colleagues, and it went so well! Everyone was super into it, and the energy was just awesome.

I really enjoy sharing what I know, especially with the engineers. They always look at things differently, and I end up learning a lot from them too. Working with them is just a lot of fun.

After the whole day, I got home and found an email from the engineering manager. He thanked me for the workshop and for sharing the latest info with the team. And the cherry on top? He gave me 500 recognition credits! I totally didn’t see that coming, and I’m really happy!

These days, the office feels like a shell of what it used to be. It’s quiet, almost too quiet—compared to the pre-COVID buzz of meetings, conversations, and laughter filling the hallways. Back then, there was always something going on, whether it was people stopping by each other’s desks to chat, catching up in the coffee corner, or the steady background noise of people working and moving around. Now, most people work from home, and the once-crowded desks sit mostly empty. That lively energy we all took for granted feels like a distant memory.

Fridays, especially, make the difference hit harder. Before COVID, Friday afternoons were something to look forward to. Colleagues would gather for tea and snacks, chatting about everything from weekend plans to funny moments from the week. The atmosphere was cheerful, and it felt like a little celebration to wrap up the week together. Now, all of that is gone. Walking into the office at the end of the week feels like stepping into an abandoned building, with only a handful of people scattered around, quietly wrapping up their tasks. What used to feel routine now feels rare. Even small things, like hearing someone say ‘See you tomorrow,’ have shifted. These days, it’s more like ‘See you next time,’ with no one really knowing when that next time will actually be.

It’s strange how quickly we’ve adjusted to this quieter, more remote way of working. There are perks, sure, working from home has its advantages—but sometimes, it’s hard not to miss how things used to be, when the office felt like a shared space full of life and energy. 

It was a rainy Sunday during the long weekend, with the rain softly falling all day. I stayed home, warm and dry, spending the time drawing. The gentle rhythm of the rain outside felt soothing, like a quiet backdrop to my sketches. It was as if I had stepped into a little world of my own, where everything else faded away. The usual stresses of work and daily life seemed to pause, left outside as though behind a closed door.

These moments feel so special to me. There’s a quiet joy in getting lost in drawing while the rain softens the world beyond the window. It brings a sense of calm and happiness that’s hard to put into words. I sometimes wish I could linger in this peaceful little world just a bit longer.

My mom always answers my calls, no matter the time, even in the middle of the night. Whenever I reach out, she listens quietly as I share whatever’s on my mind, 

I've been living and working away from home for years, so I'm rarely able to be by her side. This Mother’s Day is no different. Though I can’t be there in person, I want to say something to her from the heart: 

"Mom, Happy Mother's Day! I love you so much! You’ve always had this way of making everything feel okay, no matter what. Even though we’re apart, I carry your love with me every day. The drawing I made captures some of our cherished memories, a reflection of our unbreakable bond. It’s my way of being there with you in spirit, celebrating this special day with the one who has given me so much!"

Around this time every year, the wisteria in our yard bursts into bloom. This year, it’s even better, with more flowers than ever—clusters of purple blossoms hanging down and swaying in the sunlight. It’s such a beautiful sight, with the warm sun lighting up the vibrant purple flowers and giving the whole garden a magical feel.

My husband and I love taking a stroll through the garden when it’s like this, walking under the wisteria. The sunlight filters through the blooms, casting soft light and shadows on the ground, making everything feel calm and peaceful. It’s one of those simple moments that feels really special.

Lately, I’ve noticed a big change at the grocery store. Inflation’s been a thing for a while, but it really hit me when my usual pack of five donuts dropped to just four. That stung, especially since grabbing a box or two has become part of my routine.

I get that inflation is just how things are right now, but seeing prices stay the same while getting less feels so frustrating. The idea of paying the same amount for fewer donuts? It’s tough to wrap my head around. Honestly, I’m half-jokingly worried that someday I’ll be paying the same price for just one donut.

Donuts mean more to me than just a snack—they’re tied to memories of my mom picking me up from school and treating me to one. I don’t eat them as often now, but seeing them on the shelf always brings back that nostalgic feeling. Having a donut now feels like revisiting a little piece of my childhood.

The economy is rough, and I really hope things get better. Until then, I’ll just have to adjust to getting less for my money. But even with all these changes, there’s still something comforting about enjoying a donut—even if it’s not quite the same anymore.