I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how I’m living my life.
I wake up when I want to. I do my tai chi, stretch, squat, lunge—just enough to remind my body that it’s still carrying me through this strange and beautiful life. Then I step outside and head in whichever direction feels right that morning.
No strict plan. No rigid schedule. Just walking toward a new coffee stand I haven’t tried yet.
The funny thing is, I could probably do this for the next twenty years and still never visit every little street-side coffee place in Saigon. That thought makes me smile. It means there is always something left to discover.

The streets are getting ready for Reunification Day, April 30 – Flags cover the city

I’m beginning to accept that every day can feel like both a Sunday and a Friday.
I don’t live by the old rhythm of the seven-day week anymore. I don’t wake up groaning, “I hate Mondays,” or dragging myself through Wednesday thinking, “Just two more days until the weekend.”
No.
Every day holds the slowness and beauty of a Sunday, and at the same time, the anticipatory joy of a Friday. There’s freedom in that. There’s peace in that.
And honestly, I’m still learning how to accept it without guilt.
There’s that old voice sometimes—the one that whispers I should have a more “regular” job, that I should be making more money, that I should be following some standard path that everyone else seems to understand.
But lately, I’ve been trying to replace that voice with gratitude.
Instead of focusing on what I could be making, I think about the abundance I already have. Time. Freedom. Movement. Quiet mornings. Conversations with strangers over coffee. The ability to sit outside at 8 a.m., 4 p.m., or 10 p.m. and simply exist.

The universe has given me this life for a reason.
And today, I feel ready to accept it.
No fear. No guilt. No shame.
Just acknowledgment.
Just gratitude.
Just the understanding that my life is this way for a reason, and maybe my job is not to fight it, but to live it fully—to step into it wholeheartedly and trust that it is leading somewhere meaningful.
In the same way, every hour feels like happy hour.
Whether it’s 8 in the morning or 10 at night, my life allows me the freedom to enjoy a chilled beer if the moment feels right. And whenever I see a Trappist ale sitting quietly outside the country where it was brewed, my heart skips a beat a little.

Because sometimes happiness is big and dramatic.
And sometimes it’s just finding the right coffee stand, taking the long way home, and realizing that the life I thought looked unconventional is actually the one that fits me best.
Maybe destiny doesn’t arrive all at once.
Maybe it looks like a slow walk through the city, a plastic stool on the sidewalk, strong Vietnamese coffee, and the quiet realization that I am already exactly where I need to be.

April 2026