It’s been a while since I last wrote here. A number of friends have actually nudged me to keep writing, and honestly, I’m surprised by how well this blog has done since I first started it. Originally, this was just a space for me to reflect—maybe not even to vent, since I rarely feel the need to—but to explore myself a little more deeply. And yet, over time, this page has somehow resonated with people—close friends, acquaintances, and even those I haven’t gotten to know well. I’ve received messages encouraging me to keep writing, sometimes about very specific things I posted. A few even sent handwritten letters to tell me how much they connected with what I shared.
Saying I appreciate the support would be an understatement.
I think the key to gaining traction in this digital world is honesty—saying what you actually want to say. If you only write things you think others want to hear, chances are, they won’t hit as hard. But if you speak your truth—your raw, personal reflections—even if no one else resonates with them, you still walk away feeling fulfilled. That said, this approach might not work for everyone. In many ways, I think I’ve been lucky.
But back to the main point: as life gets busier, naturally I’ll have less time to maintain this blog. It’s something I saw coming, and honestly, I don’t feel bad about it for two reasons. First, even if I’m not writing, I’m still thinking, and that mental processing alone fosters growth. Second, being busy is a blessing. It filters out distractions, makes you a little more mysterious, and above all—it makes you feel genuinely alive.
So for what might be my last post in a while (as I focus my energy on another writing project I’m not quite ready to share yet), I want to offer a few thoughts on happiness. It won’t be long, but it will be honest.
Lately—especially as the fall quarter wrapped up—I’ve been reflecting a lot on what happiness really means to me. Not the short bursts of joy from a great movie or a wild night out, but the long-lasting kind. The kind that sticks. Naturally, the first thing that came to mind was cars. I love them. I’ve always loved them. And yes, working on a car still makes me happy. But I started questioning—what exactly about cars brings me that joy?
I broke it down into three parts:
First (20%) is pure appreciation. I find genuine joy in the artistry of cars. It’s the same kind of feeling you get when you admire a breathtaking painting or hike through beautiful scenery. It’s selfless appreciation of beauty, and it feels good.
Second (30%) is ownership. Having a car I love brings a specific kind of happiness—the pride that comes from owning something beautiful. And it’s not just cars. People naturally feel joy in owning things they (or society) deem valuable. Ownership, in a way, is a form of power. And whether we admit it or not, most of us crave that to some extent. Even money is just purchasing power.
Third (50%)—and this was the most revealing—is the happiness that comes from social recognition. I’m being brutally honest here. When people compliment my car or say, “Wow, I didn’t know you knew so much about cars,” or “Your car is amazing,” it makes me feel good.
This realization raised a tough question: if half the joy I get from cars comes from external validation, can I still say that cars are my true source of happiness? Because, theoretically, I could get that same social recognition from anything else—basketball, music, academics—if I were good enough at it.
That led me to what I believe is a more fundamental truth: Happiness comes from self-improvement.
When you’re growing, learning, building confidence in your abilities, you start caring less about what others think—and ironically, that’s when people begin to notice you more. Self-improvement checks all three boxes of happiness: it’s a form of beauty (crafting a better version of yourself), it gives a sense of ownership (your growth belongs to you), and it naturally brings recognition. And if we dig deeper, we’ll find that self-improvement is rooted in self-love. Loving yourself isn’t just a prerequisite—it’s the purpose. So in short: to be truly happy, you just got to learn to love yourself.
Some may think there’s a trade-off between self-love and loving others—as if loving yourself too much means you can’t love others well. You’ll hear that self-love makes you a bad partner, or less devoted to your family, as though it’s inherently selfish. But that’s a misconception we need to break. From what I’ve observed—both statistically among friends and conceptually—relationships fail more often because there wasn’t enough self-love from either side. Self-love doesn’t subtract from love for others, it multiplies it. If I love myself, I start making thoughtful plans for my future. Hence, I only include people who genuinely matter. That means two things: I’m more intentional about who I care for, and I’m more willing to grow with them instead of giving up when things get hard.
That’s why I wanted to write this today. I know the next few quarters will be tough. There’ll be moments of doubt, of wandering, of feeling stuck. But I want this post to serve as a reminder to myself—and maybe to you too—that challenges are just life’s way of training us. If God places something in your path, it’s because He knows you’re capable of overcoming it. So as long as I hold onto enough self-love, I’ll have the peace and strength to keep moving forward.
I want to end this piece with a prayer that captures the kind of inner peace that self-love brings: “God, grant me the serenity to accept what I cannot change, the courage to change what I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
Self-love begins here.
RJWANG19 
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