“In 1967, John Lennon wrote a song called, “All You Need Is Love.” He also beat both of his wives, abandoned one of his children, verbally abused his gay Jewish manager with homophobic and anti-semitic slurs, and once had a camera crew film him lying naked in his bed for an entire day.” – Mark Manson
(I struggled to write this because it has 2 very weird, disjointed parts. But I chose to write that sad stuff first before the happy stuff, cos we all would rather have the delusion of maybe always a happy ending?)
I guess this is what a “midlife crisis” must be like. It’s not a sudden rush of blowing up your life, or getting a fling half your age, or getting a Ferrari (maybe it’s a straight men thing?) It’s this lingering, nagging, hangover-like feeling of maybe your best years are behind you, maybe you missed a major boat or two. Maybe it’s more intense for gay men (and maybe gay men of color) because so much of our worth is tied to our youth, our desirability, and our validation from others. My ex once said, “You are an old soul, and you are great, and you are so wise and kind and accomplished. We just don’t have chemistry. You’re not quite as cute as I thought”. I know it’s fucked, but when you are 24, you internalize a lot of that stuff. And when you thought you were over it, it came back and hit you in the face.
It’s almost Tet (Lunar New Year). And, for the first time in a really long time, I miss home. I don’t know why. Maybe because in 2024 we had the opportunity to celebrate Tet in Vietnam, and I remembered how amazing that was. Maybe because this year we were in Thailand for the new year, and people keep telling us this fire horse year only comes once every 60 years. Maybe it’s the nostalgia starting to hit at an older age. Maybe all of this intense racism and anti-immigrant sentiment in North America, specifically Alberta, has finally gotten to me. “You know what, racists, maybe I will go back to where I came from. At least our food has real flavors. Enjoy your oil-sand bland burgers.”
I once again feel small and isolated. I feel this coldness and loneliness in California and Philadelphia. I feel this “otherness” and “less than”. It’s ironic that I left Vietnam and Asia to find a place of belonging. And Canada is still very much that. There are places and people I love here. It’s just this intense racism and dog whistling from all these separation talks and the extremely homophobic government that reminds me more and more each day of Communist Vietnam. Something as small and as joyful as the Bad Bunny half-time show (I didn’t watch the football, just Youtube the music on YouTube) gave me a brief moment of joy. And then, all the racist attacks and the “Christian” sentiment that people would rather worship a pedophile and a washed-up, talentless, hateful man, some of it from the Alberta government staff, remind me that I am not welcome here.
I’ve been watching the company that I missed last year. They’ve been doing well, expanding, and winning awards. I could have been their CTO. There are very few times in my life when I used the term “could have”. I always dove in headfirst. I always take tremendous risks. Not because I was brave, but because I was afraid of what-ifs and could-have-beens. So this one hurts. I guess it hurts a little bit more that I didn’t know or have any of these “I miss home” and “I miss my friends” nostalgia nagging at me. And now I’ve missed that boat.
All that doom and gloom talks aside, I actually had a good birthday week. We had a big family dinner on Tuesday. I celebrated my brother’s birthday on Wednesday. I had a nice, beautiful meal with the hubby on Thursday. Haircut and Tet grocery shopping on Friday. We played board games and had (even more) sushi on Saturday with friends. I went swimming on Sunday with a friend. It’s the small stuff. These are little bright spots and sparkles of joy in the midst of this ongoing malaise of isolation. I treasure it. I promise myself I will focus on the small circles of my life (family, friends, volunteering) and turn my brain off from the outside world doom. It’s tough, but I’m trying.
I am reminded that there’s a concept in Vietnamese culture and language called “Đẹp lão”. It literally means old and beautiful. Not but, and; because we (maybe the Japanese too?) see the beauty and the wisdom in aging and in lived experience. (Although usually it is reserved for people 60+) I will try to embrace that. (Gay men and their usual shallowness aside) I feel as fit as I ever been, and as confident as I’ve ever been. Out of curiosity, I Googled my ex a few days ago (We haven’t been in touch for a few years, the moment I stopped trying to stay in touch with him). He looks older, more haggard, and is still talking about his trauma with his mom and dad as part of his psychology business and practice. That was one of the could-have-beens that I am glad I was out of. I have grown and moved so much in the last 12 years. He is still stuck in that same place he was back then.
Time is a funny concept. Wisdom only comes in hindsight. All we have is the here and now. And maybe it’s the most important thing for me to remember. That I am still here. That I am loved.
Maybe love is not enough. Maybe love is not all you need. But it’s a damn good place to start.
Pace Fine Arts 