This year, with everything that is happening at work and with the puppy, I have not spent as much time thinking about aging and being underachieving in my life.

I mean, with the things that are going on in my job & my carreer, I have come to term with not being on any “40 under 40” lists. I’m contented where I am at. I know that content is the enemy of great. But the pursue of greatness, at least right now, is the enemy of my mental health. So I think I’ll take a bit of a pass, re-assess, and maybe get on a “great just barely before he dies” list.

As a queer man over 30, I have also came to term with being invisible, being forgotten, and being discounted by the men in my community. I have come to term with aging, with insecurity, and with rejection. I’m confortable with the skin I’m in. Comfortable is nice. As I’m barreling towards my 40s, I think I’ve learned to be a bit kinder to myself, to my aching knees and thinning hair, to my failing hearing and fuzzy memories, and to my insecurities that no one will look at me the same way.

As a Buddhist, we are taught about aging, about death,  and about impermanent very early. Yet, the hardest part is the yearning. The hardest part is the hoping for more.

And so I guess my 39th birthday wish for myself is patience, to be with all the stillness and chaos, to continue moving forward with grace and with joy, with the people I love most, but mostly, to be ok with myself. Let the last year of my 30s be one that I will come to term with aging with grace and living with joy.

“But the truth I learned here is, you had to leave because you’re you. I liked you for who you are; and who you are is a person who leaves. But for him, you’re the person who stays” – Past lives

After a grueling 32-hour flight with 2 layovers, we are finally back in Vietnam. It’s been more than 5 years since we last came home. This time, I’m coming back as a Canadian, passport & all. It feels strange. To be a foreigner in a place you were born and raised.The past few weeks has been a whirlwind, mostly at work. It was the kind of tumulus times that makes one question one’s career choices and their past turns in this careers. It was the kind of time that makes are wonder “What even is the point anymore?”. Nothing is certain. There maybe nothing left to return to anymore. “We have a good life, though, right?” Dan asks. And we do. And I am grateful.

And I am reminded that anytime anything good ever happened in my life, that is because I have been the one who leaves. I left behind Vietnam because I wanted a better education and opportunity for myself. I left Singapore because I wanted a life that is authentic. I left the US because I wanted to be an immigrant who are welcome and felt like I belong. I left several jobs because I wanted to grow, to challenge myself, and to be taken seriously. I have always been the one who leaves.

Yet, I have always wanted to be the one who belongs. I wanted to stay. Everytime I’m back, I felt this sense of belonging, of nostalgia, of roots, and of context.I’m also reminded of why I needed to leave. So, a few weeks break and surrounding myself with family, with friends, with traditions and childhood memories and with delicious food, might be good for the soul.

And maybe, just maybe, of all the lives I could have had of all the possibilities, the one life I have now, challenging and chaotic and all, may be the best and the one life I will ever had.

And I have to start to learn to stay in it.

What’s with all this “New Year. New You” bs? I mean, what’s wrong with the old one? I mean, he’s not great but he’s doing his best. Okay. How about “New year, just slightly improved you” and a lot less anxious about how to continuously optimize ourselves like some sort of vague capitalism concept?

Here to all the yous version of you every day. Hang in there.

We don’t have to put all our selves on discount or renew every single year/day.

With love

I’m in Vancouver for the weekend. I’m here to see Canadian National treasure, Americans folk singer, talented actor, otherwise known as my imaginary other husband, Noah Reid. As I’m sitting in the airport, I couldn’t help but wonder, more like being amazed, by what a change twenty years have brought.

Twenty years ago, a flight between Vietnam and Singapore would have costed about the same. It would have taken about the same duration in time. Vancouver is an expensive island city, kinda like Singapore. Going home for me back then was a deliberate decision, of saving money, of deliberate planning, and even more anxiety around logistic. I was nerdy, scrawny, messy long hair and even messier unfitted clothes. Today I’m going to the same trip on a whim, for some straight married white boy I haven’t even met. Not to mention my impeccable hair and even cuter fall outfit. Just saying.

I’m grateful for my life. I’m grateful for my privileges. I’m grateful for my luck and the opportunities in my life. I’m grateful for my other actual husband (not as cute or talented, but he’s my Canadian National treasure). I’m grateful for so many things

And yet, I couldn’t help but wonder, like what they said, what would you say to the young you of twenty years ago? I meant, even in my darkest days (twenty years ago) I would know in the deepest of my heart, that as long as I persevere, and I keep trying, everything will turn out fine. That young man twenty years ago was stronger, more persevering, more resilient, than the me today, messy hair and unfitted clothes and all.

So instead of being condescending to the me of twenty years ago, I’d like to tell him. “Thank you. Thank you for surviving and keeping at it”

And when Noah sings “Simply the best” to me, in an intimate theater with dim lighting and standing room only, I can feel all the love. Not from Noah, duh, he’s a straight married boy that I’ve never met, but the love from everyone who has ever helped my in my life, of all the random chances and opportunities that have let me here. I am, as he will sing on that acoustic guitar, simply the best, better than all the rest.

And that’s a twenty-year story in the making

Yesterday (September 30th) marked the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation in Canada. It was a day for all of us to listen, to learn, and to understand the truth of this country. There is no reconciliation without truths. 

I gave a short talk before our stand-up about my experience as an immigrant, a newcomer to this land, how important it is for me, and how humbled I have felt, to learn about the past of colonization and all the wrongs that have been done to the Indigenous people of this land – and the land herself. I wanted to use my voice, and my experience as an immigrant, to connect to my technical engineers who might not always be in front of these conversations. It felt important. 

Tuesday was a challenging day. There was a major org change and everyone is kinda freaking out a little (or a lot). So between taking care of the team’s mental health and stabilizing the business unit, it was pretty tough to take a breath. And we ran into a coworker (who happened to be indigenous). She had a beautiful beaded lanyard on. As I complimented her, she pulled out another from her purse and gave it to me. It was such a simple act of kindness, of pride (in her culture), and a connection that happens in an otherwise fucked up week. It feels… hopeful.

I went to the Starbucks across the street from the office, and there is a sister with a gorgeous afro, braided and cornrows, tied behind her face. She calls me “honey” and she always remembers my order. On her hand, there is a band with a trans flag. It’s subtle, but it’s beautiful. It made me smile. I see her. I see her seeing others in our community. Our trans brothers and sisters are at risk. Our community is under attack. We are not safe here. We are not safe in Canada. And I will (physically) fight every cis gays out there saying that the fight for progress in Canada is over. The gay bigots can go fuck themselves. 

My brother is doing standup comedy again. And he’s gaining some traction. I don’t want to jinx it quite yet, but I’m genuinely excited for him. He’s doing something he loves. His eyes light up when he talks about it. A random audience member saw him, and tried to reach out to his network of artists, and offered him a very minor role in a show. I mean, a random stranger with a random act. It might not go anywhere. But it is also a testament to hard work, to the hustle, to honing your talents, and to putting yourself out there. 

A co-worker reached out. She is from another business division and we only interacted twice, but she looked up my title and she wanted to ask my advice for her career growth. A bright young black woman navigating a traditional corporate environment. Of course, I’d help. It was a lovely conversation and even a lovelier connection. I hope she will find success. I hope she will have her champion and her sponsor and her mentors. So she can grow in a world that is very much still not seeing people like us at a leadership table.

I’ve been teaching 2 courses at a local college (Project Management in Software Development. Oh the irony) and the students have been calling me anything from Prof. Jason to Mr. Ho to Mr. Instructor (So anything between a hip-hop artist to a noodle brand). They asked me for advice (sometimes not even related to the course). They told me they liked my content (I guess they really wanted that A+). But it feels nice, to be helpful to young hopeful people. 

So the world continues to be a dark place. Our provincial government is still anti-science and corporate puppet. Our federal government is incompetent and is about to be taken over by Neo-Nazi. The world is … well… a shit show. But there will also be good people, with good acts of kindness. 

These little moments might just be enough for us to feel warm and fuzzy and loved, as we watch the comet slowly plummet to the earth. 

I will never take for granted the privilege that my Canadian passport grants me. It takes less than 3 minutes to clear customs (“Where did you go?” – “Why did you go there” – “OK, bye”). It wasn’t long enough to finish an Ariana Grande song. I’ve said many times, that I am still getting used to it. I told Kelly this morning “Without this passport, I’m just a brown Vietnamese guy that they love to “randomly select” to harass.”

The funny thing about time is that sometimes it doesn’t feel very linear. Kelly got a reminder on her phone yesterday about our meeting in Helsinki 9 years ago. We were reminiscing about Lyon last year, and Haiwaii 10 years ago. Flashback, 13 years ago, Jia En and I had a conversation about leaving Singapore and where we will end up. Apparently, years later, in Switzerland. 

“Do you think I’ve changed?” – Kelly asked, introspectively. Of course, she has. Of course, I did. For once, we did all get older. We are all more “set in our ways” (aka stubborn af). We value our comfort way more. We are also more certain about ourselves, about our lives, and about the choices that we continue to make.

“What do you think about Switzerland?” – Jia En asked. “Small and expensive” – I said – “and people are cold and distant”. To be honest, it’s like an overpriced Calgary. I mean if I was to be overlooked and ignored (or tokenized) by white people, I’d rather do it affordably from the comfort of home in Calgary. If I am to feel isolated and disrespected, I’d rather do it with the big blue sky and spacious backyard where I can grow flowers and vegetables. The Swiss milk and cheese are good, but I’m lactose intolerant, anyway. 

“I will never understand it. But I will always be happy for you and I will always be rooting for you” – I said. 

And I guess that’s the point, about connections, about friendships, about love. It’s never about understanding. It’s about acceptance. I will never understand why I fell in love with a conservative Christian French Canadian with a beard, but I do. I will never understand why he chose to stick with an anxious ball of hot mess like me, but I am grateful he still does. I will still forever have a hard time believing in “forever”, but I can now picture it. It has his face on it. His very beardy French Canadian face.

I don’t have many friends in my life. I don’t make meaningful connections easy. But I’m forever grateful to know I have connections all over the world that I can go to, and connect with, across time and distance. I am forever grateful for the connections I’ve made in my life, in Vietnam, in Singapore, in Philadelphia, in California, in Chicago, in Boston, in NYC, and in Canada.

So I am sitting in the Montreal airport, waiting for my connecting flight (in 6 hours, which is agonizing). Montreal is the Canada connection, for me. My 2 uncles were boat people and now they live here. Montreal was the first Canadian city I visited. It’s my port of entry. It’s my connecting place. But Calgary is home. It is flawed. It feels isolated and disconnected at times. But it’s home. 

“Mảnh đất giữ chân một người khi nơi đó chôn cất một người thân hay đang sống một người mà mình yêu thương”

 “When destiny calls you, you’ve gotta be strong. I may not be with you but you’ve gotta hold on” – it’s been a while since I listen to that song. I guess the perk of traveling on a road trip is the rediscovery of old things and new alike.

I guess it’s almost a tradition now that once a year I’ll leave my hubby at home and go frolicking with my international friends. Vancouver and Ottawa in 2021. Chicago and Boston in 2022. Now Geneva and Santorini in 2023. Some of his co-workers said to him “you’re so great to allow him to go by himself” (which I find ridiculous since we’re both grown ass adult men. We can go wherever we want. Marriage is a combination to 10x each person as an individual, complete person; not a co dependency between two halves like some sort of parasite). Anyways, I digress. I do truly appreciate how chill and how loving he is about letting me do whatever I want as long as we communicate with each other.

Traveling solo comes with its fun and foley, of course. Especially for an anxious flyer like me. I guess my whole life as a brown person holding a Vietnamese passport have gotten me used to expect the very worst of flying. I did have to try to get used to my Canadian passport and just go. What a change in experience. The privilege that a country and a piece of paper can bring you. 

We went on a road trip in Switzerland. In our twenty years of friendship, travels and road trips have been a hallmark of many laughter, many bickers, and many many amazing photos. It’s hard for friendship to come by in life, much less that one that transcends continents and decades. There are things and decisions we don’t quite understand from each other, but the love is there and the love is real

I couldn’t help but be grateful. I mean in my melancholy of my repeated fail attempts to get ahead, to grow in my personal pursuit, in my career, I often forgot how far I’ve come and how incredibly lucky I’ve been. The world has gotten smaller and closer for me. The friends have gotten fewer but closer as well.

And in this lonely planet we call home, I found my home. I found not a place, but a person, a being that is there for me when I need to return.

Home, then, is not a physical place. It’s a state of mind. It’s a state of being. Being next to you.

The person that I leave once a year to explore the world around me, and how much lonelier it would be without you, no matter how pretty it is.

I’m traveling solo, but I’m not traveling alone, for my friends are here with me around the world, and you are with me in my world.

Home is where we are.

As we were trying to explain to a coffee shop owner in Bern (a bit of a himbo) our friendship and where we met – 3 Asians from different South East Asia nations (Brunei, Malaysia, Vietnam) who met in school in Singapore and now live in Canada, Geneva, and Zurich – I couldn’t help but think about the wonders of chance and how small our world really is. Sure there are many people around the world that have international friends in school. Sure there are people around the world who go on road trips together. But how many of them travel to see each other for special events, for weddings, for anniversaries, once a year or so. 

There was a heat wave while I was here (yesterday was the first day of rain in a week). Canada is burning. Hurricanes and floods hit California. The ice is receding. The ocean is rising. The green is burning and turning into ash. As politicians continue to bicker about tit for tat, as “world dictators” kill and fight for lands to satisfy their fragile ego, as the people continuously stick to a con man who is constantly indicted of crimes, the land is dying. We were having fun and being joyful, cautiously anxious about how many more years left we had of this living condition. “I want to see Venice before it sinks to the sea”. “there might not be a Jakarta tomorrow” 

I couldn’t help but wonder, as the book I’m reading on Indigenous culture has stated, Western world science and logic focus on human superiority and humans’ ability to “innovate”. But what if what we need right now is the belief in the spirit, belief in the harmony of the earth, the sky, and the water. What if what we need right now is not better, bigger, 10x, etc. but a livable world for all (8 billion) of us. 

What if the real marvel of life, the true miracle, is not about humans’ superiority, but about our ability to meet, to form friendships, to empathize, to connect, and to transcend borders and politics, and be together.

Wouldn’t that be nice?