"Words! Mere words! How terrible they were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! One could not escape from them. And yet what a subtle magic there was in them!"
Website copy, campaign collateral, and business writing
“Out Ahead, Stay Ahead”
Plants all begin the same way—as seeds. But with the right environment and the right care, they flourish and thrive. We take our cues from nature, and our business practices from our passion for leadership and vision. We know that the best way to change the world is to forge your own path and grow, upward and onward. That means being on the cutting edge of anything and everything plant-based and pioneering the industry. We understand that business is driven by one thing—consumer value—and can take your business to the next level with all the tools and expertise you need to stay ahead of the curve and grow in the direction you want. PlantBased Solutions: Out Ahead, Stay Ahead.
A fresh take on lunch for the modern working parent
PorchPack is a meal delivery subscription service that caters to working parents and provides nutritious, customized, and ready-to-eat meals to families with busy schedules.
News articles, editorial, feature pieces, and press releases
the falconer (2009 - 2012)
[feature] Modern Feminism
[feature] 1 in 2,750: Mariko Domyo
daily nexus (2012 - 2013)
word magazine (2013)
ucsb first (2013 - 2014)
[press release] All-Gaucho Reunion Kickoff: Senior Breakfast
[press release] Alumni Association Black Leaders Summit
Stories, musings, and other consequences of a wild and endlessly curious mind
When I sit next to my grandfather, or my Yeh Yeh, at the dinner table, the first things I notice are his hands. Leathery, but at the same time with clear, delicate-looking skin like the folds of a chrysalis. They quaver ever so slightly, but his movements convey a kind of calculated grace; as he pours tea, as he lifts a bite of food to his mouth with bone-white chopsticks. Every once in a while, he’ll turn to me and say something like, "So, Jenny, how do you like New York?" Small tidbits of conversation, but with his limited English, I am grateful for whatever we can discuss with each other.
"You know," he says in a hushed voice, putting his hand on my knee and leaning toward me. "Your Nai Nai...she have very bad luck last year. With the broken leg and then the, ahh...the cancer.”
"The breast cancer." I had overheard my dad's phone calls to his parents, in hurried Cantonese; heard the keening responses through speakerphone. Without being able to understand language, I knew that these were not good news calls.
"Yes," he says, nodding. "Breast cancer. She has seven..." he looks up, calculating. "Seven weeks. Until the radiation. And the cancer pills, she takes for five years."
"Oh," I say, wincing. "I’m so sorry."
"Yes," he says, withdrawing his hand and settling back into his chair with a sigh. His fingers idly tap the cloth-covered table, a reflex in Morse code, hovering near a small tea stain.
The silence makes me uncomfortable and I twist my hands in my lap, searching, scrambling for some small piece of conversation to offer. "Do you know what stage it is?"
"Yeah. You know...there are different stages. I think there are five of them. Stage one or zero is good. Well, not good, but you can treat it—" I realize I’m rambling. His eyes, a bit glassy, study me carefully as I turn my chopsticks over in my hand.
"I think it is the second," he says finally.
“Oh. Well it’s better than four..."
He laughs shortly. "Yes. Not four."
I bite the inside of my cheek, once again lost for words. I can feel my throat tightening. My heart aches for him, knowing that he's watching the love of his life suffer. I don't know how to begin to express how sorry I am. Words float through my mind but slip out just as quickly. The language barrier between us is looming, suffocating. But I hope there’s an unspoken understanding between us, that he at least can read it in my face.
"Cancer is terrible," he says, leaning back. "What can I say?"
I don’t have an answer for that.