On Change
In 5th grade, my family received a yearly holiday card from a neighbor and close classmate friend of mine. My parents, having immigrated to America from the Philippines with a dream, found the card so odd; moreso a letter, my friend’s mom wrote to us about the difficulties of motherhood, of parenthood, of balancing being a writer and providing for her family.
Why would someone talk about this (let alone write about this) publicly? my dad thought. Much like other Asian immigrant parents, emotions and vulnerability were cast aside for survival, for social currency — in order to survive in this new land, we had to prove to everyone else that we were stable, contributing, and mentally ironclad.
But to me, that letter meant everything. Before that, I’d never been so drawn to feeling emotional and expressing emotion. As the oldest brother of 3 siblings, I had to constantly keep my emotions in check, defend against anything that made us “weak”, and be responsible for the wellbeing of my brothers, my family, my aging grandparents. Before that, all I knew was to survive. What else was there to do in this world?
To write, is how I answered that question. So, I became a writer. And I loved it. Then, in 2007, I discovered my dad’s old video camera, and I fell in love with filmmaking.
And for 15 years, I devoted my life to writing and filmmaking. I wrote film and TV screenplays, articles from sustainability to eSports, poetry, highschool thought pieces, short stories — even to the smallest of movie and food reviews (mainly best iHops in the Bay Area).
I volunteered and worked on film productions, music videos, web videos, short films, documentaries, commercials, and a ton of 48HR film fest submissions that both make me laugh and hurt at the same time.
I even wrote and directed work that reminds me how obsessed I was about all this. I remember those fondly: what worked, what didn’t work, what made me smile, what made me go through existential crises, the awards I’d win even after realizing that they actually didn’t matter — you name it. Even in the face of stress and hardship, I thrived. This was my comfort zone.
But the 12, 16 hour days were killing me. The near-impossible deadlines were keeping me awake at night, toiling away at drafting an idyllic storyboard or creating the most-optimal, time-efficient shot list. I knew my body couldn’t keep this up, and so, in 2017, I slowly lessened the hours. Let myself gradually shift away from filmmaking, and took up computer science courses at my local community college.
It might seem out of nowhere, but my third favorite passion in the world was and still is computers. I took extra computer literacy classes in middle school thanks to their newly built computer lab and was ranked #1 on all the typing speed test games. I took Intro to Computer Science in freshman year of highschool and loved it, but skipped AP Comp Sci so that I could focus on “becoming a doctor” from my parents ( — that’s another story saved for later). I took Modern Web Apps as my science requirement during my Bachelor’s, and while I was completely focused on maximizing my BA in Screenwriting credentials, I still enjoyed working on my final project in MWA: a web page storefront selling weed from an animated Jesus. College, am I right?
So, it made sense to go back to school and take more comp sci classes. For two years, I did that. Got my Associate in Science in Computer Science for Transfer, upskilled myself enough to get a job at Kett Engineering as a Field Operator Specialist, and prepared to apply for a second Bachelor’s, this time a B.S. in Comp Sci.
But then 2020 happened. We all know what happened then, huh?
It was rough. I lost my aunt. I didn’t like the idea of Zoom university over the cost and absence of in-person education at a Bachelor of Science level, so I didn’t apply. I instead hunkered down at work in an effort to both become the best employee I could be and not be part of the mass layoffs that would ensue. And I got really good at my job.
But I stayed there for five years.
And after a long whirlwind of dramatic, life-affirming moments ( — to be told sometime later, here’s a note-to-self), I realized I still had that dream of becoming a real software engineer. If not now, when?
Much like filmmaking, passions change. And I think I learned everything I could at that job, soaked up every note on being a good leader, a dependable coworker. While I don’t regret working at Kett for 5 years, I couldn’t see myself working in operations for the rest of my life. That dream of becoming a software engineer in 2019 was held, then let go, then remembered again in 2023. And much like retiring from filmmaking, I was certain I needed to pursue this change.
So, I quit my job in May. Took up self-studying comp sci and programming full-time for 4 months, and applied to Rithm School’s Full Stack Software Engineer Bootcamp November 2023 cohort. Even though my community college transfer credits expired, I researched and discovered other ways to further my growth.
And finally, despite a few humorous stumbles, I got in. This time, I’m going to commit. This time, I’m going to finish what I started. In the face of this current economic/job downturn, in the face of the ever-changing landscape of AI and automation, in the face of doom scrolling through Reddit (I know — I’ll stop, I promise!), I’m going to follow this rekindled passion of mine.
When we allow ourselves to feel the need for change, I think, is when passion lets itself pour in. Whether that’s from a once-in-a-lifetime pandemic, an old video camera, or a life-changing letter from another human being. Even that is enough for change.
