Pace Fine Arts

30s in 30

Ah, my sweet 40. Here it is. (I know, it feels like I’ve been talking about it since forever ago). I was talking to my ex-coworker/mentor the other day and we agreed that the reason why I am so anxious/restless is that my 30s were so fucking awesome that it will be hard to beat. It is scary to enter another decade of my life; older (with weaker knees, thinner hair, and slower brain prowess) and hopefully wiser this time. Maybe it’s a good time to also look back and celebrate some of the highlights of the past 10 years.

10 biggest achievements

Graduated with an MSc in Software Engineering
Came out to my parents, came out at work, came out everywhere really. Met and started dating someone special
Got engaged and got married (to the same special person above)
Bought a house. Made it a home.
Became a VP of Software Engineering (after restarting my career almost from the ground up in Canada)
Became a Canadian citizen
Made a road trip across Canada from the West coast (Vancouver) to the East coast (Halifax-PEI)
Wrote a book about said trip, and self-published it
Traveled to many many countries and places
Took 10k+ photos, painted lots of paintings, and participated in at least 10 art shows (some award-winning, some good sales, some work are featured in commercials)

10 biggest changes

Moved to Canada (with 3 pieces of luggage and no connections in Calgary)
Had an orthodontist to straighten my overcrowded teeth. Got fine. Got more confident.
Became so much more politically aware and opinionated about politics
Got a license. Had a car. Could drive places. (Still hate driving).
Became a green thumb (I used to kill cacti). Realized that everything is a skill and because I’m an overachiever if I want to learn a skill, I’d fucking be great at it.
Could afford to buy Lego. In fact, bought way too many Legos. (Also bought a PS5, a gaming computer, etc. things that are generally unattainable for a poor Vietnamese kid growing up)
Started to spend money to save time (cleaning services, delivery, electricians, moving, etc.)
Had a dog. Became one of those North American “pet people”
Became too old for the old perv (old men >50s stopped hitting on me) and somehow entered the Clooney age (men in their late 20s-early 30s started hitting on me)
Went to therapy (Still going). Became too old to be bullied by conformance. Stopped giving a shit about some inner critics and imposter syndrome bs about myself.

7 biggest challenges

A really tough period of depression in 2012-2014.
The economy’s downturn just as I finished my master’s degree in 2015, and the ridiculousness of the “Canadian experience,” which hinders me from getting jobs relevant to my experience.
Challenges with immigration. The system is not built for people like us, and it’s getting worse with the current political climate.
The pandemic (duh!).
Tried to adopt a child and decided to change course. See number 4 above.
General lack of mentorship, leadership, or “people like me” in my industry and my career. (Unlike popular belief, it’s not fun to be “the pioneer” or “paving the way” for others).
My general tendency is to be impacted by anxiety, insomnia, and depression.

3 wishes for my 40s

Less struggles. Please. Just. Generally. Less struggles.
Be more comfortable and have more wisdom and grace in my own skin, with my aging and where I am at in my life and my career.
Preferably no World War 3 and the Climate crisis doesn’t destroy us (at least in the next 10 years)

New year resolution

As I pulled up to the gym’s parking lot, a few thoughts came to mind. First, parking. “Where the hell am I going to park, with the resolution crowd coming to the gym today?” Lucky for me, I go to a neighborhood community gym (and it is snowing today), so, aside from a few gym dude bros, most of the people here are regulars and older folks.

I mean, say what you will about the resolution crowd. I have a lot of profound respect for older people (late millennials, like myself) wanting to work on their fitness journey and their health, as long as they don’t take up my parking spot and the few machines that I actually use. Everyone is on their journey, and the perk of being in a community center / non-gay gym is that the people actually look normal (and you can feel kinda like the hottie)

I know. I know. People go to the gym to work out and not compare or check other people out. Counterpoint: have you talked to a gay lately?

As my 40s are drawing closer and closer, I found myself a lot more self-conscious about stuff. Mostly aging. I do have an advantage with my Vietnamese genetics, so I won’t really get big (I’ve been the same weight since 2015, pandemic and all). I’m more worried about going bald and my receding hairline. But then I looked at all my friends who have kids, and I’m like “We’re ok”

People who know me know that I don’t believe in resolutions. If I want to do something I do it right away. if I want to buy something I buy it right away. I set destination and learning goals throughout the year and I do my best to hit them. With 2024 being a rather difficult year, some months my goals were simply just “Get out of bed”, “Go to work”, and “Don’t complain today”.

So, here we are. 2025. Let’s hope and aim for a better, kinder, more meaningful year of loving ourselves, loving our neighbors, and loving our communities.

And to all my insecurities and all my anxiety about turning 40, I’d say

The nostalgia mindfuck

Maybe nostalgia is really the side effect of aging. I have found myself reminiscing and going back into wild bizarre habits and (sometime false) romantic fantasies of the past.

I have spent a fair bit of time (and disposable income) on fountain pens and ink lately. Also writing in ridiculously elaborate cursive. I can’t say I have ever had beautiful hand writing or particularly enjoy ink pens. I used them throughout primary school and the mess it made, the times it ran out of ink in the middle on an exams, or the weird ink blothches on my school uniform when I had them in my pockets. And here we are. They were saying something about the 30 years effect of nostalgia. This might be it. Or it is jsut my brain finding a new obsession to fill the giant void that my anxiety is creating about aging, about my career, and my life. I am human after all. I guess I should be glad that it’s not cross fit or becoming vegan or a social media influencer.

I have not gone to the theater to watch Wicked the movie (I know. Bad gay). I love it that a new generation is discovering Wicked and falling in love with the music and the story of a misunderstoof woman of color (while ignoring mostly the racist sexist political undertone of the spectacles). For me, I think I still remember being 21 years old, see Wicked from a farthest top right audience corner with a last minute cheap ticket as a student, being mesmerized by the music, by the Broadway perfection, and most vividly, tearing up during “I’m not that girl”. I know, weird. Who would have thought I was gay. A song about a green girl with hidden potential and overlooked love, why would it have been so resonating?

There was a headhunter from Singapore / Vietnam who reached out for a CTO role in a company in Vietnam. And for a while, it was a nice fantasy. I do miss being connected and being surrounded by people I know. I do miss the food, the warmth, the sunshine, and all of the connectedness my culture and (some of) my people provide. (Don’t worry, I turned the job down). But for a moment, it was nice. It was nice to feel like I would have arrived, that things would have fallen into a full circle moment. Of course, I have promptly ignored all my struggles and all the past challenges I had, just for the context of this fantasy. Nostalgia does that to you. And then the fact that I am gay and I left the country for a reason and the last time I came back to attempt to “contribute” and to achieve this full circle moment, I fell flat on my face. I can’t remember a time in my life where there wasn’t “struggle”. I wish it was easier. I do. I wish for a simpler life. Maybe if I was straight, married to a Vietnamese woman, kids, job, retirement, monkhood. That was the plan / the fantasy at one point. Nostalgia brings me back to that often. The “what if” life. I know it wouldn’t be simple or easy. But it’s tempting. Maybe next life.

I had some death in my peripheral lately. A good friend’s mother passed. A secondary school teacher passed. It makes me think a lot about my grandma. It makes me think a lot about death, and aging, and legacy, and the romance of death. I remember vivid afternoons of playing card games with my grandma. I remember reading Buddhist sutras to her while she was in pain (I was ten). I remember writing (more like copying) sutras onto papers and folding into cranes as prayers for her. I remember writing short stories and diary entries about death, about missing her, and about all my pre-teen angst and isolation. All with ink pens.

I couldn’t help but wonder, when I am gone, what is the nostalgia / legacy effect I am gonna create?

“No good deeds go unpunished” came to mind.

In honor of the lives we would have never lived

I’ve been thinking a lot. It’s what happens when you wake up at 5 a.m. and your brain refuses to let you go back to sleep. It’s a lonely place. In the lonely hours. And when I ran out of things to worry about, the state of the world, my work, my career, our marriage, our mortgage, etc. I ponder the lives I would have lived, well, more so the lives I would have never lived.

I want to start by saying I am extremely privileged, and I know that. I want you to know you don’t have to remind me that I have my home, my house, my family, my job, and I live in a safe country. I know all that. It can be an incredibly lonely place when your confidants and the people you trust constantly dismiss you and your worries as “being dramatic” or “being ungrateful”.

I am grateful. But gratefulness doesn’t negate you from aspiring to make things better, to change things, and to improve things. It’s like telling an immigrant who pointed out challenges and flaws in the system “if Canada is so bad, why don’t you go back to where you came from”. Leaving a toxic place doesn’t mean giving up. “I’ve seen this movie before. You hate a place and you talk about it and then you run away and escape to somewhere else”. As if it was wrong? As if it was cowardice to uproot all your lives, pack it in 3 suitcases, and move 12000 km away?

I mean. If I had been straight and if I had stayed in Vietnam, I would have a wife, kids, and a career that is 5 years ahead of where I am now.

I know it’s not helpful to fantasize about a life that is not ours to lead, one that is far away in a distant parallel universe that we are not allowed to access. I know it’s not productive to stay in a place of grief, for a life that we would have never had anyway because of who we are and the cards we are dealt. I know that. But grieving is a funny process, and grieving for a person with anxiety is an even weirder process. And thanks to the reactions from my close ones, it’s an incredibly isolating and lonely process, too.

“What is grief, if not unexpressed love?” (Andrew Garfield and many others)

What is this grief, if not an unshared sadness of a life I could have had if only I was braver, smarter, better, or different? I can’t tell anyone that I had to pass on the opportunity of a lifetime to be a CTO of a tech scale-up company. I can’t tell anyone that I feel anxious, scared, and helpless in the place that I live in (because that would be over dramatic, liberal-tear-ridden anxiety). I can’t tell anyone that I feel unfulfilled, isolated, and alone, because that would be ungrateful.

So what is it then? And how is it then? Can I express this built-up lump in my chest, pounding away in my brain in the quiet hours of the mornings?

Instead, I shut up and go to work in the morning and be an inspiring leader, a positive force, and help us remain focused on our mission to deliver values in our Agile software development process.

Maybe. Just maybe. The life I miss most of all, and the life I mourned for most of all, is the life where I am loved and taken care of, regardless of what and how much I can do for other people, but simply because of who I am.

The Gratitude vs Anxiety Conundrum

My prayers to the universe get more confusing by the day. The world that I live in is complex, messy, imperfect, and at times utterly overwhelming.

I am grateful for my life. I am grateful for my family, my friends, and the safe and peaceful country and welcoming community that I live in.

Yet, at the same time, I could not help but wonder. “What if I wasn’t gay? What if I was white? What if my parents were upper middle class, or not Vietnamese? Could I have gotten further than I have now? Would I move faster in my life if I wasn’t set back by my immigration, by my background?”

I am grateful for my career. I am grateful to have met Jeffrey, Elise, Gerard, Sean, Nav, and countless other mentors who have helped me shape a career that is unique to me. I am grateful for the opportunities that have come my way.

Yet, at the same time, I couldn’t help but wonder, how far could I have come without my baggage of a queer brown immigrant? A CEO asked me casually over conversation “Why didn’t you apply for that CTO role? Sounded like it was up your alley.” – “I did throw my hat in the ring, actually. They wanted someone with more… I guess … gravitas.” I know. Gravitas. As my HR friend put it “Because you are not a pompous arrogant asshole, babe”

I am grateful as I am getting older. Forty. In a few months. I still think the 30s were the best decade of my life (so far). I am proud of the man I’ve become. I am proud of my accomplishments. I am mostly thankful for having made enough money to afford my mental health care, my therapy, and my Lego (among other frivolous expenses).

Yet, as the window of the “Forty under forty” title drastically closes (my coworkers got it a few years back), I couldn’t help but wonder, “What more could I have done? How much harder must I have worked so the world notices?”

I am grateful. I am grateful for my peace, my privileges, and my ability to afford mortgage groceries, and gas. Yet, as the world burns and quickly descends into fascism around us, is that gratefulness selfish?

Life’s hard. Maybe I’ll go lie down and curl up a little.

Read this on the internet: “To ensure you don’t cram up from curling up on 8the floor for too long, get up and scream like a banshee out of your windows for 5 minutes every hour”

Feeling thankful

Just like the first snowfall, Thanksgiving comes much earlier in Canada than in the US. The timing is appropriate, too, I think, as the Fall is a great time to reflect and be thankful for the things we have in the first half of the year.

2024 has been a weird whirlwind year. Many things have happened. Puppy. Career changes. Hot boys summer. Life came at us fast and furious, and I had to admit, there was no shortage of moments of anxiety and self-doubt about the future.

That’s why, this year, I am extra thankful. I am thankful for the life I had/I am having. I am thankful for my love, my friends, my co-workers (old and new), and Canada (flawed and all). I am thankful for my health, for my stability, and for the peace and kindness we get to experience here.

As I inch ever so closer to the big 4-0, I couldn’t help but be more reflective than usual. The past 20 years have been hard. There were so many heartbreaks. I broke some hearts, too. The wake of a nomad trail from Vietnam to Singapore to the US and finally here, in Canada, was never easy. But I am thankful.

I do prefer an easier life (who wouldn’t?), but in the absence of that, I am thankful for the resiliency that I possess and the loving support of those I came across in my life.

So, happy (Canadian) Thanksgiving, friends. I didn’t name names because you know who you are (and yes, that includes you Marcus Lane) and there are so many of you. Know that I am thankful, and I love all of you.

VP Era

I have to be honest I didn’t expect to be back to the bachelor lifestyle (staying in a one-bedroom apartment, cooking simple meals or microwaving frozen meals, taking a bus to and from work, etc.) at the age of 40; but here we are, 3 weeks after my new job in Edmonton.

The good thing about super-commuting is that I have a lot of time to myself. I could work. I could read. I could play games on steams. But most importantly, I get to reflect on the week, the month, and the life that I have. Obviously, I am super grateful (and I am super lucky) that I am here, so I won’t bore you with more of that. Instead, I want to share some observations I have about myself: what has changed (and not changed) over the years for me. It’s an exercise of stepping outside of myself to observe myself at work (and in life) in general, and it’s quite fun to see some of these things. So, come, step into my office

I am still that kid who left Vietnam for Singapore, who left Singapore for Philly, who left the US for Canada, etc. I can still go to a new place, learn all the bus routes, cook my own meals, and figure my shit out all by myself. I can be in a new job, in a new industry, in a new city, and feel like I belong 2 weeks in the job. I still have this sense of adventure, of wonder, and the “err on the side of action” attitude. The married life is wonderful and complete, but it’s nice to know that the comfort of that life hasn’t taken me away from my ability to “just pack up and go”. (However, I am not sure I can survive being super poor again, though. TBD on that.)

I am still the guy who “gets shit done”. 3 weeks in, I have helped create a launch plan for a much-delayed project, I have put together a plan to launch our performance measurement system and make meaningful connections with stakeholders and teams. It’s funny, in my last job, I was being denied promotions or growth opportunities because “You are very good at your job and delivering results, but you need to be more strategic.” (Coincidentally, the people who got promoted never seemed to really delivered on anything, just big strategy talk) This is an environment where I am starting to feel my ability to get shit done will get a lot of street creds for me to push the strategic initiatives forward.

People are still at the core of my values and the first thing on my list of “How I contribute meaningfully to this organization”. I was able to identify the superstars, the rockstars (and the laggards) in a short time here. Curiosity (with a dash of humor) is still my strongest skill. I was able to have open, candid conversations, and gather amazing insights from the people around me. There are a lot of challenges ahead, some of them seem monumental; but I feel as long as I have the people elements with me, I’ll be able to accomplish a lot here.

So here are a few things that changed:

Confidence. I have heard that word more than three times from three different people I met. “We just need some leadership to drive this initiative forward. It’s nice to have someone like you with the confidence to do it” – Direct quote. Maybe they are blowing smoke up my ass because I am the new VP. But I have to say, it is refreshing to see myself as a confident, competent (maybe a tad cocky/bossy). I have never been that guy. “Channel your inner mediocre white man”, I guess. The funny thing is, I don’t think I do it on purpose. I did have the understanding and the experience under my belt. I’ve seen this and I’ve solved these challenges before. The only difference is, I have the voice now and I have the confidence to say it, with volume.

Optimism. Some call it fearlessness. Some call it foolishness. But I think having a sense of optimism to know you can accomplish certain things, no matter how hard, uncertain, or ridiculous it might sound to some people, is critically important in leadership. I actually didn’t realize I possessed this until my last boss pointed it out to me. The cynics are often right about life. The optimists often get things done. Maybe it’s that foolishness that is giving me confidence. And maybe as a person with excessive amount of anxiety, optimism is a gift to counter-balance the weight of all the little things that could go wrong with “the plan”. I know everything will go wrong at the worst possible time. But I know no matter how many things go wrong, I will arrive at the final right destination. That’s optimism. Right?

“Zaddiness”. I don’t know what to call it, the “joie de vie”, the “je ne sais quoi”, the mix of this weird impossible lightness of meeting new people and speaking to them from a position of authority, expertise, and charm. (I know I sound like an arrogant prick now, but hear me out). I mean it cannot be a coincidence that my (female) new co-worker proclaimed “I love your personality!”, or your developers told HR people “They crept your profile and they were so glad we brought someone like you onboard”. I mean I was even hit on on Social media by 20-year-olds. As the great Pedro Pascal said “Daddy is a state of mind”

@vanityfair
“Daddy is a state of mind.” -Pedro Pascal, 2022. #LieDetector
♬ Daddy is a state of mind – Vanity Fair

I guess it’s too early to tell if this feeling will last. Maybe it’s just the newness and the excitement of it all. Maybe it’s my brain’s coping mechanism for the stress of the new job. Honestly, I am working longer hours and harder than I have in the past years, but I am having fun. And maybe, just maybe, these positive changes can carry over outside of the job, beyond the title and the nice office, into my life, and my general attitude about life, relationship, aging, and my overall well-being and awesomeness.

(Although VP Era does have a better ring to it than Zaddy Era, which just sounds perverted and old)

Hot boys’ summer – Epilogue

With the arrival of September, (Canadian) summer is considered to be over, and with it, my hot boys’ summer. Is it, like the notorious Jason Kenney said, “the best summer ever”? Not quite. However, it’s quite an epic one. For that, I am grateful. As I am disembarking on a new (and somewhat exciting/terrifying) chapter of my life and my career today, I’d like to take a look back and “count my blessings” on the great things that happened this summer.

This is the summer of family. This is probably the summer when we, as a family, made a conscious effort to spend a lot of time together. Mochi, the mischievous puppy, helped. Also, our multiple trips to assist with mom and Grandma kinda brought us together. This year, for the first time since 2020, I was able to visit my uncle, aunt, and cousins in Montreal.

This is the summer I embrace “hot boys” / “brat” mentality. People who know me know I struggled with my body image and self-love. For the first time in a long time (ironically as close to being 40 as I am), I feel confident, and content, with where I am at in terms of my health and my appearance. That might change. That might not. Maybe I am like bourbon, getting darker and better as I age. Who knows. All I know is that I am content and grateful with myself, which is more than I have ever had most of my twenties. #daddies.

This summer I reconnected with a lot of close friends, colleagues, mentors, mentees, board games nerds, etc. I was able to be there for some friends over some big milestones (new house, health scare, moving, divorce). I was able to reconnect and meaningfully be present with them. It’s so refreshing, and soul-fulfilling, to be able to do that.

This summer I took a break. Like truly took a break. I took 3 weeks off in June for my mental health/physical health. I took August off to transition between jobs. It has been great for my health, and mostly my mind. Of course, it’s terrifying to leap into the unknown, and to take a break while I’m generally more comfortable being productive/workaholic, it was truly good for me and my soul. I am so grateful to be able to afford the privilege to do that. In this break, I completed Arts projects (3, to be exact).

I grew and took care of a beautiful (scaled-down) flower garden

Most importantly, this summer, I get to be with the people I love, and I get to sit with myself. I got what I wanted. I got out of a toxic, stressful environment. I set myself up for my career goals before I turn 40. I surrounded myself with the people I love and care about. This summer, as with any other time in the past 10 years, I truly truly appreciate the exceptional life partner that I have.

Things are uncertain, and I’m a bit anxious about the future (as I am). Yet, I want to express how eternally grateful I am for where I am today, who I am today and the people I am with.

To leave you with this post, and to close an epic “hot boys’ summer”, I leave you with my favourite quote from a show.

The perk of (not) being a wallflower

I’ve never been a dancer, but I do know joy. I’ve never been the one who waited, but I do know things will eventually turn out fine. I’ve never been the one who likes the darkness, but I know the darkest nights bring the brightest dawn.

I have never been a clubber. Bright lights, loud music, and beautiful people have never been “my scene”. But as we danced during Market Day in Chicago, I found myself at the center of a small dance floor and actually enjoyed it. On the first day, there was a young man who reached his hands out, and I danced with him and his friends. My friend said, “still got it”. And I laughed to myself. “I have never had … got it”. In my younger days, I never went clubbing, and when I did I stuck to the walls. My hair was long and messy. I wore clothes 2 sizes too big. I never knew how to dance. Maybe it’s the aging. Maybe it’s the confidence aging brings. I’m too old to be bullied by the voices in my head. I’m too old to spend more time hiding by the wall, sticking to the cliche definitions of who is allowed to be in the center of attention. Sometimes, even a wallflower can bloom.

This year, I am doing something unprecedented. I have taken August off. “Self-funded sabbatical”, I call it. During this time, I have done some exciting things. I traveled and visited some of my extended family, and my really close friends, including my first career mentors in Philadelphia. I’ve created art. I’ve gone hiking several times. I’ve learned some new things and even built some software projects in the Basement Lab. I’ve even dared call it “hot boys summer”. This is probably the most selfish, self-centered, and the most radical act of self-love I have ever done. I have always gone from one job to another (I even worked while I was studying). I have always been about taking care of others first. I have always been one that is responsible, that is with the plan. Not this summer. This summer is brat. And when the wallflower blooms, the walls don’t fall apart. The strong foundation that we built didn’t crumble. Instead, we found joy. We found togetherness. And I found myself surrounded by people that I love, that built me up, that acknowledged the beauty of everything that I’ve been through.

Some days I have to pinch myself. How did I get so lucky?

I mean there was a lot of heartbreak and hard work involved, don’t get me wrong. But how many of us have the chance, and the privilege, to come out of those heartbreak and hard work with what we’re hoping for.

I’m in a loving, committed, and enduring marriage. I’m coming to a job in September that I’m actually excited (and anxious) about. I have friends everywhere in the world who know my story and know me. We’re living in a country where our rights are not being threatened by the next election. We’re living in peace and I’m in good health (for a 40-year-old, anyways).

The thing about wallflowers is that they are most comfortable by the walls, and I will be back to that soon enough. It’s just nice to know that I can and still do bloom in a while.

Like my friends lovingly called it, I “still got it”.

To be human

I am taking a few weeks away from work (for medical reasons) to focus on myself and my recovery. It is a strange concept, really, to step away from work and just focus on myself. I wasn’t raised like that. My mom worked all the way until she had Chester and decided to stay home to take care of the two of us (which is a 1.5 full-time job, really). My dad took on extra work to support 2 sons studying overseas. In our culture and our life, work is “ethics”, work is a part of our identity, and work is how a capitalistic society views and evaluates us. So, to not work to take care of yourself is not only inherently selfish but a strange and unacceptable practice.

So, what am I doing during this break? I’ve been gardening. I’ve been painting. I’ve been calling people and talking to them. I even dared plan for the summer.

There has been a lot of talk and anxiety about AI lately. I couldn’t help but wonder, when (not if, when) AI can replace us for our work, what, then, will be our worth? What, then, will make us human?

As I was painting, I could feel the strokes of the brush against the canvas. I could see all the imperfections. I could step back, think, admire, frown, and make corrections, and make it worse. When I garden, I would feel the breeze. I could learn the angle of sunshine vs the time of day vs the duration of sunlight vs the soil ratio, etc. Sure a machine can do all that. Sure a machine can do all that better. With advancement in robotics and AI, a machine can paint perfection, can garden mass quantity crops.

Can a machine have the self-awareness of its own brokenness? Can machine learning teach machines to be inspired to learn, and not optimize based on a pre-determined goal?

It’s sad and comforting, really, to realize what made me human, specifically in my case, is my acute awareness of my own brokenness. What made me human, is my ability to see my flaws and my reckless desire to be better, all the time.

And so, I guess, to be able to step away from work, to ignore the work ethics and the identity of a salaried man, after all, is a rebellion act of being fucking human.