--- date: '2023-12-31T00:00:00Z' description: On being at ease with myself. id: '2023' layout: reflection modified: 2026-10-11 17:55:40 GMT-04:00 signature: Your present self tags: - fruit - growth title: '2023: a letter.' created: '2023-12-31T00:00:00Z' published: '2023-12-31T00:00:00Z' pageLayout: reflection slug: posts/2023 permalink: https://aarnphm.xyz/posts/2023.md generator: quartz: v4.6.0 hostedProvider: Cloudflare baseUrl: aarnphm.xyz full: https://aarnphm.xyz/llms-full.txt --- _tw: self-harm. This is a public journal entry. Some of the following writing may contains information that you might find disturbed. Please treat it with kindness and care should you choose to read it._ This is 2023. A letter to myself. I will start with a mere nostalgic reflection filled with the goods and not so good, and ends with what I wish to accomplish for 2024. --- _To 2023 self,_ Per tradition, your year began with a visit from your parents. We decided to do SF-NY, with good food, shopping, and visiting relatives. Living on a different continent, you’ve longed for the simple joys of home: those weekend returns, the comfort of a home-cooked meal, the tender gesture of cut fruits like in your younger days. Now, these moments are yearly reunions, where relatives journey across the globe. Despite finding these gatherings overwhelming, you cherish these visits. It was in San Francisco that you found writing and reading, surrounded by a community of inspiring individuals. And it was San Francisco, that you and J crossed paths. Running became a rhythmic solace amidst sleepless nights and turbulent thoughts. You would find yourself lacing up for a run, whether it was pushing through work until dawn or embarking on a 5-mile run along the Bay regardless of how tired you were. Running offered a sense of stability, a means to channel your energy and thoughts, though often at the expense of your physical and emotional health. _“You are young; you should be fine,”_ you would tell yourself, perhaps a bit too cavalierly. Then came the spontaneous decision to go backpacking in Yosemite with S. Despite not being in the best shape, the allure of adventure was irresistible. It was a journey of firsts: your inaugural backpacking trip, your first visit to Yosemite, and your first encounter with the chill of near-freezing nights outdoors. ![[posts/images/2023-collage-yosemite.webp|Yosemite]] --- I don’t know about you, but the moment life hints at normalcy and tranquility, a restless itch starts to stir within me. It’s like K often says with a knowing smile, “you are a messy gyal.” There’s a peculiar comfort in chaos. Now, as I stand at this crossroads in the Bay Area, that restlessness is more pronounced than ever. I had taken a leave from school to move to the Bay for work, a decision that now hung in the balance. The Bay Area beckoned me to stay: doing what I love, being surrounded by friends, and those weekends with J. Yet, it was shadowed by the looming uncertainties of visa statuses. The alternative, returning to Canada, is a retreat into a past that’s drenched in discomfort, into what I’ve always perceived as a life of constraints and unfulfilled potential. The very thought of leaving J, hitting pause on our shared dreams in San Francisco, sends a pang of sorrow through me. Canada is a return to a version of myself that I’ve struggled to leave behind. The visa challenges remained, no matter which border I call home. In the quiet moments, your mind wrestled with these paths. “Stop, don’t leave. You can do it. Stay,” a voice within you whispered, a blend of hope and desperation. It was a plea to cling to the life you’ve started to build here. It was a Sunday afternoon, you and J were enjoying a cup of coffee, in the Marina. Like whispers of the gentlest breeze, the wind danced through J’s hair, each strand a melody, weaving tales of love in the air. It carried J’s scent, a tapestry of [[thoughts/Scents#Rose 31|rose]] subtly entwined with earth’s warm embrace, a tender symphony barely touching the senses. You whispered in her ears, _“I have to leave for Toronto.”_ Her hair, once a playground for your fingers, now swayed to the rhythm of a compassionate wind, each strand moving with the grace of unshed tears. The air, perfumed with the delicate scent of roses and spices, seemed to hold our memories, cradling them gently as if to soften the blow of parting. Our eyes met, yet tinged with the inevitable sorrow of farewell. Words were unnecessary; our hearts spoke in silent verses, each beat a soft adieu. It was a parting not of anger or regret, but of two souls acknowledging their journey together had reached a tender, inevitable end. We both sit there, cried in silent. The gentle wind, a compassionate witness to our farewell, carried away the last whispers of a love that was as beautiful as it was ephemeral, leaving behind a calm, poignant tranquility. --- It was now sunny July, you found yourself back in Canada, slowly acclimating to the new life. The makeshift bed, consists of two fitted sheets, a duvet, and a pillow, while waiting for furnitures to arrive back from SF, offered a modest comfort yet lacked the essence of home. This wasn’t your first rodeo. Relocations has somewhat become normalcy for you: leaving Hanoi for boarding school seven years ago, then moving across Canada for university and lived in campus housing, to moving into student housing, _alone_ amidst 2020’s misfortunes, returning to Vietnam shortly after, then moved back to Canada for online-university living in an overcrowded unhygienic household filled with strangers, followed by your determination to leave Canada once and for all to SF, to chase the “American dream”. However, this time, the feeling stirred differently. Gone was the wide-eyed public school kid who first stepped onto Canadian soil, filled with aspirations. Faded, too, was the image of the bewildered freshman adrift in a sea of unfamiliar faces at university. And the weary, drained engineer who sought refuge in San Francisco, seeking an escape, had evolved. Now, as you sat amidst the quiet of your new space, you grappled with a curious blend of familiarity and foreignness. --- In the company of books, you sought refuge. You also rekindled old friendships, those that had lain dormant in the wake of your sojourn to San Francisco. There was a sense of quiet accomplishment in the transformation of your apartment, a life being patiently rebuilt, piece by piece. Physical exertion, too, found its place in your routine: climbing gym, the disciplined rhythm of your runs. The runs, though lacking the scenic vistas of San Francisco, offered a more introspective landscape. Work, too, assumed a new significance with projects, _OpenLLM_. It demanded of you a pace and a depth of understanding that was both exhilarating and daunting. Then there was HackTheNorth. Convincing S to sponsor HackTheNorth, and your subsequent workshop on language models, was a reconnection to a belief in hacker culture, filled with anticipation and excitement for building technology. ![[posts/images/2023-collage-htn.webp|HackTheNorth 2023, with BentoML]] --- ![[posts/images/2023-collage-heal.webp|Homecooked meals for some of the functions with friends]] You [showed up](https://x.com/daniellefong/status/1732922352244302196). You showed your love and affection for your friends through home-cooked meals. Potlucks, tasting menus: they were your ways of nurturing the bonds of friendship, a respite from the pressures of student life. Remember that Halloween, when you cooked a feast, ensuring your friends were well-fed and ready for a night of revelry? Surrounded by the sizzling skillet and steaming hot mashed potatoes, you found a sense of belonging. You’ve never seen yourself as the quintessential party-goer, often feeling like an observer on the fringes of the festivities. But you went, even as a part of you remained reluctant. At the party, a familiar sensation crept in: a detachment from the scene around you. You didn’t quite mesh with this crowd. This realisation triggered a rush of anxiety, urging you to escape. So, you left. You left the noise, the laughter, and returned to the silence of your home. There you were greeted by the remnants of your cooking: the pots, pans, and utensils from the meal. In the stillness of your kitchen, loneliness enveloped you. You sat there, amidst the pans, and tears began to fall. --- _Remember that breakup with J?_ The summer was heartbreak and restless nights. It’s funny how we try to mend ourselves, isn’t it? With a schedule as a plaster over a gaping wound. I had it all mapped out, or so I thought. It was on a nondescript day, November 13th, that I found myself on a date with a woman I’d met online. The evening was unremarkable, tinged with the effort of trying to reconnect with the world. We ended up at her place, an encounter that was at best, mediocre. In the midst of the intimacy, memories of J invaded my mind, unbidden. J and I, we were polyamorous. Unorthodox, yes (but not really in SF), but to each other, we were anchors. My reluctance to move back to Canada was rooted in her: she was my ‘it’, my endgame. And then a message from J pierced the night. Her words, simple yet loaded, unravelled me. We had agreed to silence, to give time and space for healing. But there I was, haunted by the love that embraced my most authentic self, the part of me unshielded by the armor I’d forged over the years. That night was restless, the presence of another unable to fill the void. 3:30 am, my phone shattered the silence: it was J. Panic and longing intertwined as I answered. _What harm could there be?_ What followed were late-night conversations, spanning many weeks. J’s voice, laced with tears, spoke of longing and loss. Our talks were a roller-coaster: laughter quickly drowned by arguments, smiles eclipsed by sorrow. I was a cocktail of anger and sadness; I had moved on, or so I had convinced myself. Why now, in the midst of this? J’s behaviour was a mystery, a deviation from her usual sensibility. And there I lay, sleep eluding me, troubled by the thought of her distress. One morning, you found yourself seeking refuge in the kitchen. There’s a certain healing power in cooking: the methodical chopping of vegetables, the hiss of ingredients in the skillet. But even there, the spectre of J haunted you. A momentary lapse in attention brought a sharp pain. A drop of blood bloomed on the cutting board. The sight of it, coupled with the realisation that you had cut your finger, brought a wave of lightheadedness. Yet, even as the shock set in, you instinctively reached for a towel, pressing it firmly against the wound. You navigated your way to the first-aid kit. Your hands worked to clean and dress the wound. After tending to the injury, you slumped against the fridge, your gaze drifting aimlessly to the ceiling. In an instant, a thought flickered through your mind: the notion of ending it all. But just as quickly as it surfaced, it dissipated at the thought of your mother. The image of her, perhaps unaware of the depths of your current struggles, yet invariably intertwined with your existence, acted as a grounding force. In the quiet of your kitchen, with the pain in your finger a sharp but grounding sensation, you were left to confront your ‘ego’: the pain, the emotion, the longing, the love, and the will to endure. --- Navigating the aftermath of a first serious relationship is hard, especially for someone who had always embraced solitude. When it ended, I was overwhelmed like a teacup caught in a relentless downpour. J was a mirror to parts of myself I hadn’t known. But as the emotional turbulence continued, my logical self, long subdued, finally asserted itself. It whispered of the need for closure, for the sake of my own well-being. The final call to J was a necessary severance, blocking all lines of communication going forward. This decision, difficult as it was, felt like the only way forward, a path to healing for both of you. Sharing experiences with Mom did lift a weight off your shoulders. It marked a turning point, a chance to truly move on. And before you knew it, Christmas break was upon you. Your return to school was marked by a fresh perspective, one shaped by your stint in SF. School is now a place for you to explore your interests and have the joy of learning, as it should be. For the first time, you found joy in the very structure of academia. ![[posts/images/2023-collage-finals.webp|taken at Whistler, BC]] --- 2023’s Aaron did: - Work-wise, [[thoughts/work#OpenLLM -- Serve, fine-tune and deploy LLMs in production|OpenLLM]], we actually made revenue this year, and got to work with some very, very cool companies!! You also did [buildspace S4](https://buildspace.so/) - Favourite movie that I cried has to be [Past Lives](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kA244xewjcI\&ab_channel=A24). The quintessential symphony of my journey so far. - Favourite restaurant is [CIMA](http://www.cimaonlocke.ca/). The food is amazing and I love the staff there. I have cried here many, many times. - I found philosophy somewhat cumbersome before, but this one class in university did change my perspective on the subject. Read [[thoughts/Nietzsche|Nietzsche]]‘s work, did exploration on metaphysics, and found _Beyond Good and Evil_ my favourite for 2023. - Expanded my vinyl collections, including Daft Punk, Fleetwood Mac, Led Zeppelin. - Made some house [tunes](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLsRPzRsbp3lCxe4gXH4S4Zf38X_45Oj6N), very much inspired by Fred again, Four Tet, and Peggy Gou. You still find your tone, but keep working at it. The following was hacked together in an afternoon: ![[posts/images/2023-flac-1.mp3]] _ID 1_ - Also, that one YouTube video I kept playing on repeat is [this one from the Lot Radio](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hvO0PrMBH9I\&ab_channel=TheLotRadio), or anything from this [query](https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=four+tet+lot+radio) - Favourite object is this [10-inch pan](https://madeincookware.com/products/stainless-steel-frying-pan/10-inch). I kid you not having a stainless steel pans feels like a hack. Absolute love this bad boy. Second favourite object is this [turtleneck](https://www.ralphlauren.ca/men-clothing-sweaters/wool-cashmere-turtleneck-sweater/625236.html?dwvar625236_colorname=Vest%20Olive%20Heather#q=turtleneck\&br=t\&fq=division%253A%2522Men%2522\&start=1). I wore this pretty much everywhere. If you see me IRL chances are you saw me wearing this. --- What I want for 2024: - `atelier with friends`, where you can pay what you think the meal is worth. I want to do at least _10_ this year. - Continue in the rabbit hole of philosophy: Deleuze and Camus - I want to tend to my garden a bit better. There are too many `draft` and `noindex` notes that needs to taken care of. Mainly because 2023 was pretty much turmoil galore 🤗 - Learning to _let go_, and boundaries. - Finish that G2. (_ok I do need to get a driver license_) - Apprendre le français Kindly, _your present self_