27

Peace and possibility

Apr 12, 2026

Today I turned 27. I’m writing this at 10 AM, after a morning of prepping for what I’m now deeming a tradition: hosting a taco bar for my friends on my birthday.

Each birthday feels like a time capsule. A snapshot of where I was literally and metaphorically in life. My sense of self. The questions answered, and more often than not, unanswered. Looking back at them, I’m struck by how little I knew, and how much changed year by year without me really ‘doing’ anything.

COVID had started to take off, and I got sent home prematurely from studying abroad in London. In another lifetime, my friends and I would’ve been celebrating in Mykonos. Instead, I celebrated alone, in isolation. I thought it best to quarantine from my parents for as long as possible (thank gosh because I definitely had COVID), and spent a month in a townhouse separate from them. I think I was mostly just confused and bored. I played a lot of Minecraft that month.

Surprised by my friends in my senior year apartment on Linden Street. They got me a vegan birthday cake, which really touched me. Acne had its way with me on and off throughout high school and college, and I cut out dairy in hopes I’d be left alone. I felt embarrassed about my skin, and so for them to consider that meant the world to me. Senior year was wrapping up, and I was in that liminal state between being done with college and ready for adulthood (you have no idea what’s coming), trying to cherish the end of a four year chapter of my life. I was both excited and not to move on. Excited to have freedom that adulthood and an income provided. Unenthused about working in investment banking.

Things change quickly. By 23, I had an existential crisis spurred by banking, and quit after six months in March 2022. I’d started my YouTube channel by then. On the day of my birthday, I explored Brooklyn for the first time (yes I didn’t leave Manhattan) and filmed a video as I went from Domino Park, trekked through Williamsburg, Downtown Brooklyn, Fort Greene, Brooklyn Heights, and finally Cobble Hill. I met up with Steven, and we watched Everything Everywhere All At Once in an old school theater. I remember how free I felt. After months of contraction, everything opened up. I felt alive.

Away from home, I wanted to celebrate with Chinese food. Solo traveling in Lisbon at the time, I found a Chinese restaurant that wasn’t even a hole in the wall, but a sign on a wall. It was literally inside of someone’s apartment, the only giveaway being a sign stealthily hung out their window. I was the only customer, and ordered enough food for multiple people (I’d already had some beef noodle soup somewhere else prior). It felt like one of my uncles preparing a meal for me. In someone’s home, speaking Mandarin, being advised by the owner-chef to keep my valuables close because of pickpockets. Afterwards, I trekked across the city in search of some gooey cookies, and sat in a park overlooking the city. I filmed another video. It was my second two-week solo trip, and I felt empowered knowing I can just do things like go to a foreign country without knowing the language, and be totally okay. Most of all, feeling comfortable in my solitude. Months prior, I’d already decided I’d leave my job when my Cobble Hill lease was up. Like when I was on the cusp of graduating, I felt at peace. Knowing a chapter was ending, doing my best to cherish the time I had with friends before I left.

Not much great Chinese food in Valencia. I don’t quite recall what I did that day. I definitely started it with an almond croissant from Passage à Paris and a walk through El Jardín del Turia. I think my Dutch friend Jelmer and I might’ve hung out? Unsure. I filmed another video, this time on not knowing, two days before I flew back to the U.S. after eight months of solo traveling. It wasn’t in the plan. Ever since I left banking in 2022, I’d been on this journey of following aliveness, of believing the Universe would catch me as long as I kept leaping. At the beginning of the year, I let go of my dream of becoming a full-time creator. In its place, I began following the emerging path of coaching, which meant cutting my travels short and not meeting up with Bash in Italy over the summer. Yet, I felt excited and at peace to allow the next chapter to emerge.

No Chinese food. Instead, a taco bar. My roommates and I had cobbled together enough furniture a week after moving into The Den to have people over for my birthday. It felt metaphoric. I hadn’t celebrated my birthday with people in four years. While I felt grateful for all the birthdays I had to myself, exploring new parts of the world (yes even Brooklyn), deep down, I longed for this. To be with people I love and care about, to be home. I tell people, “I found places I loved while traveling, but I didn’t find home.” I found it with my friends in San Francisco. Emma wasn’t there, but she ordered me a Milk Bar birthday cake, her favorite. I felt excited for the life unfolding, realizing that the last few years, while unique in their own way, were a liminal period for me to finally arrive and be home in more ways than one.

I woke up and checked on the slow-cooked gochujang pork before starting the rest of prep. Emma got me a 501st clone trooper action figure. Taking it out of the packaging, marveling at its features, I felt my inner child’s delight. I haven’t received or bought a clone trooper action figure since I was maybe 12 or 13. Back then, I’d spend weekday afternoons and weekend mornings on the stairs of my childhood home, putting my ragtag team of clone troopers through battle scenes. No itch to be productive. Just play.

Minnow is staying with me. Emma is coming over in 15 minutes to help prep. Friends are arriving in a few hours. Things are uncertain, but when aren’t they? Reflecting on each of these birthdays, these snapshots of life, there was no way of knowing what awaited me the following year. And yet, amidst the uncertainty and the thrashing at control I can fall into, there’s peace and possibility.

Here’s to what unfolds.