Episode 100: Abraham Lincoln and the people I met at Waterfront Park

A 4.5 hours drive from me is a little known, bigly known place called Louisville, Kentucky. I pronounced it Luis-ville like a Kentuckian non-native. Abraham Lincoln was probably smirking at me from above.

My team at Pleasureville schooled me while I protested: "It's Low-ul-ville. You're outing yourself so hard right now, Knock." The girls, Lexi and Tabby, commented how the drive must have been really long. Nick hoped the hotel he booked me was up to my standards. I only hoped that I remembered enough of the teller line to be an actual team member.

The moment I walked in and introduced myself to everyone and saw the cozy way our Pleasureville branch looked, I almost couldn't believe there would be a high turn over rate at all. I liked our team already. Tabby, "the cat", I called her. She makes fun of the fact that I don't know why she would go to the creek all the time or why the country folks out here go mudding. "Why do you want to slap mud on yourselves??"

And I make fun of her for not knowing that open mics were a thing. ;( My city-folk thing and her country-road twang.

Lexi knows just about everything, which is why customers call in looking for her. She knows every customer so that I don't have to make someone mad if I ask for their ID. "I have never been ID-ed for the past 30 years, missy!" some of the customers would say. I wouldn't tremble out of fear or cry out of fear, because...

I have Shanara, a truly clever woman. Her first day was Monday this week and already she taught me some new tricks. She taught me to say, "Do you know me sir? Well you don't. And I don't know you either. So I'm going to need some ID to know you for this transaction and we should be good from here. Pronto?"

Shanara, who is literally a movie character out of Top Gun. Damn. SHE FLIES FUCKING PLANES. And whenever she hiccups, I'm the first to bless her. It feels good out here man.

And then there's Nick. Who feels like a girl dad but is actually a boy dad. He's the only male presence in two of the branches he oversees and is a literal angel. He drives a car that looks like it's out of a James Bond movie.

So if you asked me, how I feel being back on the teller line, then I'll have to be honest and say it actually feels really nice to be back.

I've been in back end for a couple weeks now, where I was invited for a second round of Project Management. Then I had a conversation with our Risk team over lunch. A new project only shortly arriving from commercial lending's senior vice president, whom asked for my name specifically. Even Saundra, who's usually happy about everything, expressed full surprise. "Maloney wants you on her team. Did you talk to her or something?"

I actually did not. I have an inkling a commercial banker I met last year or my stint on a bigger project put my name out there just enough for it to be caught in the winds. It helps too, that I'm kinda a cutie patootie. Or, that I really like working with others. I feel like it shows. ^-^ I'm a goodie goodie dang it.

All of that plus a raving Annual review from Saundra herself. I sat there in her office while she shared the perfectly happy news that in the very same week, two different team leads reached out to her, sharing how much they loved me in their rotation. <3

Your girl Ngoc has stolen a heart or two. ;)

I surprised myself with how much I liked our Collections team. Surprised myself with how I keep falling in love, getting attached, to all the people in our footprint: from Buckhannon, West Virginia to Pleasureville, Kentucky. I have truly traveled so much. Gosh, the miles on my Bean. My much reliable bean. And it would feel like taking a first sip of warm soy milk whenever I'm collecting their stories, seeking a great understanding of what's important to each of them and trying to see the little squiggly map of their life while sharing the squiggly map of my life, before I dive into anything specific. 

This journey to understand has brought me so far. I've become an encyclopedia of great attachment to the stories I now have.

People want to be remembered. No matter how briefly I see them that Friday, or how I might only spend one day with you before I must move on, I want to remember you. I truly do. 

Corporate life in small towns or perhaps life in small towns, in 2025, and thank god it's 2025, because that small life do be different minus 50 years from today. Just, the people out here are so, so honest. Above all else, they're so earnest. They don't demand life to bring them what they want. They are willing to start from scratch, no matter where they are in life. A certain Mr. Pingley, and yes, he's my first and probably last Pingley I'll ever meet, he was more than ready to start on the teller line after being 20 years a high paid manager at Lowe's, simply because he wanted more flexibility to be with his family. No job was too small for him. And he's only an example of that earnestness and devotion to family.

The people out here are so humble about their capabilities. They all add a dash of a smile at the end of their sentences, at almost every cash register and point of sale I make. I was called sweetie, darling, and honey back-to-back by a young girl at Lowe's when I was fumbling to find where a certain nail might be. Not only was I embarrassed that I truly had learned so little being my father's daughter, but 15 minutes had passed in the same aisle before I asked for help. I'm stubborn when I'm tired. 

And the little miss ma'am so happily showed me where I needed to be. I left in a literal minute. "Good bye, sweetie."

And these are only glimpses of Ohio. 

Because folks, I'm in Kentucky right now. I'm in Louisville. I'm only an hour away and North from Abraham Lincoln's birthplace, Hodgenville. Louisville. A city that memorializes an apartment that Thomas Edison resided in for only a year. You silly asses. A city with truly the most beautiful view of itself at Waterfront Park. That vast river view and the way the river looks like a million pieces of shape shifting glass. I didn't get to see my own reflection in it, but at night, that same river reflects the light show that the great bridge plays.

On a Monday evening, straight after a wonderful first day of teller line work, I put on my favorite "lilac short skirt. The kind that fits me like skin," quoting the great Taylor Swift. Because yes, I wore the exact skirt there hehe. My little black bag. I went to The Bep, my favorite boba chain in Houston. Yes, I was as surprised as you realizing they had one up here too. Louisville of all places. Sorry for joking about you too much at work. :(

With my strawberry matcha cream in hand and up to the moment when a bug flew right through my hair and made me drop that delicious cup, I had the most beautiful walk.

You know how when you look at something so beautiful, you could tell that you'd miss it later? You don't know when you'll miss it, but you know you certainly will. So you stand still and capture it best you can from as many angles as you can. Like the way Kentucky and Illinois tried to claim Abraham Lincoln, I tried to claim this great American river and these great American bridges for my own. 

The size. The smallness of me. I felt my own small bean-ery. 

I felt all my foolery. Up to that moment. How silly I was, how dare I, to ever make fun of such a city when Houston could never.

Houston, gosh, I love Houston. But we could never do what Louisville was doing to me as Monday evening turned into Monday night and I was still my lone little lady self, in my little skirt, little hair, little purse. 

I was alone, yes. Well, come on, I'm out here. I'm always alone, silly people. 

But I really didn't feel that way. Because to be honest... and I am pretty honest on this blog.

My main goal, besides coming out here to help best I can, was to visit Abraham Lincoln's birthplace. It's such an important memorialized place that even the National Park Service protects it. And so for the 2.5 hours of the 5 hour drive to, not the hotel, but to his birth town, I listened to all things Abraham Lincoln.

And my god, Abraham is my favorite. I said it. He's one of the good ones. 

I will write a separate episode detailing my knowledge bits about Abe. You all will have to supply any missing knowledge hehe. BUT OH MY GOSH, I AM GUSHING. ABE IS THE MOST WHOLESOME GOODEST BEAN. He's the guy you want to root for, regardless of time. There are, of course, white supremacist bits to his story but every other part. Every other part, is mostly good. :)

He was president during the great Civil War after all. How terrible and great that responsibility was, to do all that you can and protect what the founding fathers had created. It was a dark time for this country, and yet I love how there's so many accounts of his funny stories. The kind he'd tell to his cabinet members and make them laugh. Uplifting their spirits. The kind he'd tell to any and all who made the pilgrimage and visited the White House. He made time every day to at least see and hear from a group of guests what's important to them and share with them a silly story. He hardly left DC but stories about what kind of leader he was spread far and wide.

His voice wasn't deep. I always read that most famous Gettysburg Address, imagining a deep voice bellowing it out to the masses. But no, his voice was higher pitched and nasally. "NASALLY?!" Yes. 

In fact, this specific combination helped amplify his volume. It was easier for folks to understand and hear him. Oh, Abe. And he must have also been the most depressed president in our U.S. history too. He lost two sons. His mother died when he was young. And his first love died when she was 22. He's just seen so much death. Some of his friends even had to hide sharp objects from him for fear he might do unto himself little or great pains.

The common theme between the 3 different podcast sources was how notable his empathy was. 

People felt so understood in his presence. He had a keen eye for understanding and listening. Those were often his goals and so his leadership is unique in the amount of empathy he demonstrated. It was his great strength.

And of course, he's so good at so many things. He taught himself the law, y'all!! So of course he's already incredibly hardworking and talented, but he was also a writer. A true writer.

I can't imagine anyone else touching the Gettysburg Address but he, himself. Today, our politics are ruled by the clean cut words of every voice in the room, but back then, Abe's words are still memorialized today because they were solely his, representing the fullness of his thoughts and the thoughts of the Union. He wrote his own. And what was so beautiful about his writing was he wrote every word with the intention of speaking them aloud. Writing for speaking. That's why those words flow so beautifully.

So unforgettably. He writes words like music. He'd cut up his speeches into parts and re-arrange as necessary, so meticulous, so that the flow could improve. Of course he did.

So for all these samples of his great qualities, I truly had to pay homage to the one and only. And what coincidence it was to be back in Kentucky and do a true Abraham Lincolnian thing.

Lincolnian is a word. Oh my god. It's not red-highlighted or anything. DAMN. <3 

So I drove straight to Hodgenville where the tall grass is tipped with tiny yellow flowers as far as the eye can see, and rising in the distance are grand hills that are full of such lush and healthy green trees. So lushy it's almost fluffy. 

It reminded me of my mother's home village in Viet Nam, Buon Ma Thuot. The way the grass in the rice paddies would sway gently in the breeze against the mountains. Abe grew up in such a beautiful place, surrounded by this much life and so many grass flowers. We're not too different in where we come from, you and I, Mr. President. 

I spoke to him in the car you know, as my car winded through the most beautiful curves for miles and miles on end. I rolled my windows down and let my car flood with the scent of that green world. It was heavenly, this perfumed flowery grass-y hill-y scent. Of a world long forgotten in places like Houston or DC or Boston. 

Kentucky is gorgeous. Breathtaking in its land and greenery. No wonder my favorite sweet and salty popcorn grew here. If I was a corn, I would want to grow here too. :)

So with the window down, I spoke to Lincoln. Perhaps that's an understatement. After telling Ivanna what I was saying to him, she verified that I must have been praying to him instead. And I think she's right.

I think I was praying to Lincoln. I won't tell you the words of my one-sided exchange, but I will say that I hoped to be as good as he was. To live with that much goodness and kindness as he did. And I don't need money or fame. I just need to know that my life had a positive impact in some way small or medium. I just want to promise that, even to you, dear Reader. I hoped Abe could hear me. I promised him I am available 24/7 for any guidance he might have for my journey. And of course, I introduced myself in my full Vietnamese glory in case he ever spoke to the wrong Ngoc, so I said, "I am Nguyen Khoa DieuNgoc, from Houston, TX. Now here in Marietta, OH. Hello, Mr. President."

It felt cathartic. It felt true. Like the life I want to live has been lived before by many and I have so many great examples to remember with. Because that's what I like to do, remember? 

I want to remember.

Did I tell you about the cows yet?! Because there have been so many cows on my drives to and from work out here. Imagine a bunch of big cows and then smaller cows, medium sized cows, and then teenage cows and then smaller cows, and then baby cows. Imagine how all of them might all look in a painting. Each doing its own thing or playing around in small groups. 

Imagine they're all the same color. Black. Or white. Or brown. 

And that's how they're kept out here in such vast, vast land, fenced next to a thin stream or creek. Fenced in with some fat trees. Fenced in with each other. Gosh, I really slow my Bean down to the 10s when I see them, to everyone else's dismay. 

I'm crazy for cows. <3

And apparently, I'm crazy about Lincoln too haha.

But back to Monday night, because there I was at the Waterfront Park. And when you've traveled as much as I have, you get pretty good at identifying souls that feel familiar to yours. And I did find such a soul. We stood and talked for 20 minutes after I complimented her dress. 

Like me, she stood and stared at the river as if to feel all of it in a single breath in, and another breath out. It's when you know your stay isn't long that you cherish it more, and that's how I knew she was traveling through Louisville like me.

I learned a lot about a new person Monday night. I loved making her laugh about dying from amoebas first before actually drowning if I were to jump into the river. And dang, that was a pretty dark joke. Dang, Ngoc. Reel it in, please. Soon enough I learned that she was a military student advisor to a university and that she hopes to move to Florida one day. That she might move to Houston as a serious second option. 

And I tell her what I normally tell everyone about Houston.

"First is, terrible road rage and traffic and heat. Yes. Hot as hell. I kid you not. And second, there's hardly any such beautiful third spaces like view before us. There's hardly any. But, it's a nice place to be." We smiled and exchanged Instagrams and maybe I'll see her again one day.

I normally do see people again, because I want to remember all of them.

The squiggly map of everyone's lives. What matters to them. What makes them so so happy. I want to them all, because that's simply who I am. 

Along this long journey of being at the nail salon to being here at Peoples Bank to living my little life, it seems I'll always want to know what your little map looks like. The bridge lit up different light patterns before me, reflecting on the black glass river. I don't want to simply reflect on people's stories. I hope to shine my own light too, for others to see. And I feel like I'm starting to. And dear future daughter, if you're reading this, it feels really good to walk on a bridge alone at night. I swear. 

Of course, in a safe area! But tonight, your mum, being me, felt super whole as she talked to people alive or dead, about her dreams. Where she's been. And where she will be. And planned those next steps on that long walk across that bridge, just like any other night. 

Maybe you noticed, but this is the gigantic, not-so-gigantic episode 100. 

It's 10:45 PM on a Tuesday night. I never foresaw it would be about Abe Lincoln or that it would be written in the quiet of a Marriot hotel suite.

I didn't foresee either that Monday night would be a waning crescent moon. But tonight is a new moon, did you know? The new moon is the most powerful moon to me. Only new things can grow from here. If I want to make the most of it, I do it in the here and the now. 

And I will. I certainly will. 

But just, wow I've come so far in this blog. This blog has meant so much to me. In the way that it's helped me write and sort through my feelings, and usually the tough feelings, but the way it's helped me document some of the happiest memories of my life, or the most neutral ones, or saddest. At 24 years old, I finally reach episode 100. I was 16 when I published my first real episode.

I always thought episode 100 would be so grand and loud and maybe a little obnoxious. 

But this episode 100 felt perfect. It felt like a long walk across the river. Calm, peaceful. Beautiful.

Episode 100 has been so beautiful. 

And always, silly. :D

I'm so glad I finally made it!! :D To episode 200 some day, here we go! Oh my gahahahahah.

Peoples Bank: I hope you'll let me

I had a silly little project today, that somehow brought me straight to the teller line. I was testing software, and from where I sat, it was really nice to see you again.

You're my work mom, some times. You're a friend I feel, in other times. And you're just really smart, all the time. I think about your energy, the way you always accept me, even as I show up uninvited. You always ask how I'm doing in a way that I know that you truly want to know. And so I always am honest with you. 

I live alone out here in Marietta, and sometimes at work, I search for the familiar. And the teller line, with you being one of my first work friends feels just like that: a familiar warm hello. We first met whilst training together, and you sat behind me and always had the coolest stories about the ghost hotel in Parkersburg and always participated in our loan application classes with witty remarks. I liked you as a person then and would later so much appreciate you as a colleague later. 

It was my first month ever at the bank and Saundra sent me straight to retail. My little desk that I used to shadow everyone was right next to yours, and so we'd talk over our little wall. About your beautiful family. Your adorable daughter who's just getting braces. And your husband's car that looks soooo cool, like out of a 1940s movie. As the winter bore deeper into my bones, you made sure I bought a car brush.

"For the snow. And you have to get one with a brush, not just the ice picking part. A brush. Please."

And I got, guess what, the wrong kind of ice pick-thingie, regardless.

It would be half a year later, that you saw my car a little buried by the day snowstorm that you and Ben both scraped snow off my car when I wasn't there. And I gush about that all the time. You know it.

I'm great at customer service, but gosh, do I panic. And you would always sense when I was panicking. Without me even turning your way for help, I could almost always count on your voice calmly walking me through my panic. The customer is waiting for an answer. My ears are going to combust. My brain is melting. And the moment I hear you calmly give me next steps of how to run, what I thought at the time, a difficult transaction, I would feel like a steadier ship. The heat in my head would die down. My hands would continue to fly.

I once told my new friend in accounting that one of the best things about working the teller line is building good instincts. And you always showed me you had them. 

You showed everybody you had them. When you didn't know something, you'd calmly be on the phone, asking the right person the right questions. You're a queen of finding your own answers, and I learned so much more about who I wanted to be just watching you. Your calm, steady work ethic. Your unwavering trust in your curiosity to take you where you needed to be. You were exactly the kind of person I wanted to be, if I didn't know something.

I just really admire you as a person. You truly are such a Mom and I hope that when you joke about that, you're not saying you're old, because you're such a beautiful little miss. I hope you realize what a gift it is to know a colleague who always checks in and remembers my favorite rotations. How I've returned to project management yet again or how much I love risk management. How my family is doing, and any boy advice you sometimes have on a whim.

I am a little bean. And at work, where I feel like I need to be big bean, I feel like I could just be little again next to you. 

So, don't say that you're not going to grab the cold Coke bottle just because all you brought was cash and the machine only accepts card. It's just $2.65. Let me grab it for you. But so firmly, you said that I shouldn't grab it for you. 

"You're not letting me grab it because you don't want to owe me?" I asked you, after we sat down in the cafeteria, trying to understand why you didn't let me. My noodles and broccoli steamed between us. You said such a firm no when I opened the fridge attempting to, that I stopped. And together, we just sat down and talked. I showed you pictures of my favorite boy band that I just saw in NYC this past weekend. I showed you pictures of my friend and roommate who hosted me in New Jersey. Her family was so wonderful. And you showed me pictures of your daughter and husband and the husky that sleeps in your bed. Your Christmas tree pictures and you showed me how you like to twirl colorful Christmas lights around the stair railing. It truly did look so cool.

And thank god you have good taste like I do. You own a Samsung too. And on the back of it is the "Y'ALL" sticker I gave you. You say it all the time with your little twang. >-<

So for all these reasons, I hoped that you wouldn't refuse my offer to grab something that you wanted, and sure, you said you didn't need it, but you wanted it. And I want you to be happy. Always. Because you always make me happy as a person here in our little bank. And you've taught me so much.  

We're already here in the cafeteria. And I know you have another trust account to open, and you hate those the most. So let me. I just don't understand why you'd refuse me so strongly. 

I had to sneak-buy it, while you were preoccupied. And I could tell that the moment you saw it in front of you, you smiled so big. 

I hope you know that you deserve people doing nice things for you. I hope you know that you deserve all the goodness coming your way and because you are who you are, people just like me will always want to go out of our way for you. And this time, was such a little out of the way. Soooo tiny.

You're worth every trip. And you definitely deserve much much more than the $2.65 coke. So I hope next time when we meet, that you'll let me grab it for you. Whatever it is.

I just want to see you happy, because you're the best work mom ever.

:D

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Dear readers,

I wrote about E***! My work mom colleague friend.

Gosh I admire her soooo much. 

I will be starting a little series about my favorite people at my workplace, Peoples Bank.

I will do my best to keep them anonymous, just in case. :)

made it

1.7.25.

I wrote my sister, my friends, my daily update:

"I made it home, made dinner, made myself shower. How did your day go?!"

I made myself do a lot of things today. 

But the most important thing I ought to do tomorrow is... I am buying myself a shovel. A freaking shovel. 

I can't attempt that idiotic, ill-prepared plan, which was, I'll dig my car out of the snow with my house broom.

What a freaking idiot.

The only reason I made it to work today was because a neighbor of mine was taking an early morning walk in 20 degree weather? 

I asked if I could borrow his shovel... and he said yes, after glancing at my Texas license plate. I felt instant relief.

I was more grateful than relieved when he started shoveling the snow around my car himself. And I almost wanted to cry.

God, I'm such an idiot. And gosh, I'm so alone.

I'm so silly that I shouldn't be worth saving.

I've never felt more fragile than being snowed in, unable to drive the 5 minutes to work, and using a house broom to brush off 1.5 feet of snow all around.

I just want to not have to look after myself every second hahaha, but isn't that the point? Of being 24?

I'm in danger all the time. Breathing alone all the time. Cold, all the time.

I just want to rest my head somewhere soft and warm. I just want to forget this winter ever existed.

I hate the way the constant gray, the sunless sky, reflects my heart.

How empty I feel as I'm locked in. The snow locks me in with myself, my ideas, my books, my games and phone.

I just want a hug so bad. I'm just like my new puppy haha. The kind that bites when people start to leave, because I don't want to be alone right now. I just want to rest somewhere warm with a hand on my head, as I sleep this winter off. 

I want to wake up and it's never snowing again. That it's just cherry blossoms. That I see a bunch of tiny white flowers in a grass field. A bunch. And for someone across the parking lot to yell at me, "WE ARE GOING TO COLUMBUS THIS WEEKEND!" because I so badly want to dance, when this is over.

I so badly want to take long drives without fearing a possible skid.

I want spring love songs to be relevant.

My Mom no longer reminding me to wear my scarf, but to paint my toes and parade them in my Vietnamese sandals.

I want that moment, hard.

My Sugar Poem

9.21.24.

My sugar poem

For the day you read this

That your tea, your cheeks, the long day ahead

Had a little streak of purple and pink

That anyone who glanced your way

Could see the moment your face flushed as you took in the sun

That other people’s dogs favored you, the stranger, above other passersby sharing the sidewalk

That this note I left you made the next sip of your drink

A little sweeter; my sugar poem to you

Vietnamese Coffee

2.13.23.

The underside of my fingers smell like the Vietnamese coffee I was brewing for the first time in years as I write this. 

It's comforting to know a little bit of this morning's magic is coming along with me. I bet my fingers will still smell like coffee until the evening, when I might kiss my own hand again.

One scent could bring you back to everything, all at once. I read Master Thich Nhat Hanh's "How to Relax" mini-book last night before bed. There's a deep lesson on every single 4 by 4 inch page of the small little book. I had to stop reading at page 15. 15 life lessons all before bed felt like a bunch. 

But the two lessons I managed to remember were, "Remember you do breathe. Focus on your breath and isn't that a miracle?" to loosely quote from him. And secondly, "The present contains all moments." 

Me sniffing this coffee scent on my hands is me breathing in being everything all at once. And the same act is happening in the present, smelling a scent that is bringing me back to my history, to mornings when I was rushing to get into the car, while my Dad all too-slowly added 30 seconds to the microwave to reheat that tiny cup of coffee.

I waited then for coffee I wasn't even drinking. And I wait now, for the little coffee here, to drip enough for a gulp. 

And I'll wait later, maybe alone somewhere in some city, some town, for my coffee to run the filter and be reminded all over again, of all the things that make me wait. All the things that I want to wait for in life.

I must be patient.

I must have peace in the waiting. I'll have my own microwave one day maybe. It'll be crazy then, haha, to have my own microwave. 

For Vietnamese coffee, I wait patiently.

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4.15.23. 

lol yes I'm trying to publish all my unfinished and unpublished blog episodes.

I can't have 50% in process. ;(

Even if it's unfinished. Or a half-thought.

Ms. Karen: "hugs coming your way"

2.1.25.

Song for this episode :) Sechkies - Couple

My phone buzzed lightly in my pocket, just as I made to drive away.

A message from Ms. Karen: 

"Lots of love to you

My adopted granddaughter-just thinking

about you and the cold when we are so

spoiled in Houston (at least most of the 

time) hugs coming your way <3"

My quick glance made me want to cry all over again. As I do often now. As often as I'd like lately.

I cry like a baby, all the time, my dear readers, my dear friends.

Just half an hour earlier, I'd come home from a long day of work.

A long day of departmental interviews for my project management team. 4 to 5 a day. Just me and my words and my understandings and misunderstandings and "thank you for your time today. It's been a pleasure speaking to your team." The Zoom call, so quick to end. 

I'm leading a meaningful project, to map out understanding of an organizational issue that we're facing. It's been thrilling. It's been trial and success. I ride the highs when I've left an interview feeling wonderful, feeling the other team's excitement that we're bringing something worthwhile to their team.

I ride the lows when I feel like I wasn't sharp enough, the hour dedicated to the topic simmering as I stumble through. 

But the highs exist and exist more often. 

And I do well in communicating to the team. I do well showing my continuous understanding or attempt at understanding.

I do well in collecting the data we need, in analyzing what I have in front of me, in communicating to the next person who I might need to talk to. And why I must speak to you. And no one else. And it's going to be worth it, dear person. 

And I never really hear myself. 

All the language I'm using, even as I stumble at times, even as I feel my mind going blank and perhaps my face looking silly, the words come too easily, like an automatic Nerf gun shooting foam balls.

All words come too easily. 

Perhaps it's finally me seeing myself for the first time, the powerhouse that I am, at the 3rd interview, back to back. The third hour after the snack. 

The words pouring out, and if I ever did get to stop and listen to myself, I'd hear how crazy professional, patient, and productive I am at leading each meeting. 

And yet I didn't. I didn't really hear myself.

I'm good at that haha. I'm good at not hearing myself sometimes.

But Erin, a leader of my team, who happened to listen in on one of my interviews, who I never knew was ever really listening, brought up to me in the middle of our conversation about Taylor Swift ("and of course... which album is your favorite?!") that I speak very well. That I'm very encouraging. And that I say such beautiful words even if it is a meeting about something quite technical, a topic we wouldn't be poetic about. But I manage to do it. 

"You manage to bring excitement to the topic. That's wonderful. I've got to borrow what you say." 

I am such a lil' sucker for words of affirmation. Haha, I was there, smiling in front of my notes. The next call scheduled shortly.

For where I am right now, I am happy. I am excited. I am making a name for myself.

But when the day is over, and I stumble home in my heels on the cobblestone road, up to my apartment, I just want a hug.

Ms. Karen is a customer of ours at Angel's Nails. "Ms. Karen" is the name that I call her so respectfully for all the times I've ever asked and adjusted the heat of the water in the pedicure bowl, or the times I'd help close her car door after she dropped off art supplies for my mom, simply because we mentioned one time that in another life, my Mom might be artist. Or for all the times she's asked me if I'm ready for Ohio?

"How are preparations for Ohio, Ngoc?"

Perhaps I'll remember most the sacred ways her eyes lingered on me as I took care of her, beyond the pedicure bowl, while I struggled to admit that I didn't buy a car yet for Ohio haha. The way her eyes watered more when she knew it was the last time she'd see me, before I left for Ohio for real. The way she hugged me so tightly, a little pat on my back in the end.

I felt like a baby bird in her arms. Wings wrapped around me. A sweet grandma birdie wahhhhhh and I knew it so deeply that I was loved bean. <3

She made me feel like a baby, when I saw her bouquet of flowers on my doorstep last October. And like a baby again, when she sent me a big box of scarves, socks, art supplies, and gloves. "For the winter, sweet lady."

Agh. Ms. Karen.

I am so humbled by her love. My body bowed. I am a little asian lady with a little white grandma. <3

WAHHHHHH~!~ sweet beans and buddhas ~ sigh beans ~ 

ALL MY BEANSSASASASA

I am not just Ngoc today.

I'm also an adopted grand-daughter to someone. :)

And a poet. And a writer. And a thick little miss who bought like, 3 new skirts today. 

And a lover. 

I'm a lover :D of love. :)

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4.13.25.

Friends, do you realize that I have 90~ drafts and just 175 published pieces? That means that over 50% of my pieces are still in process.

That's crazy. 

Well, I will always find a way to bring the almost-finished ones to light. :)

There are so many unspoken things, aren't there? So many forgotten rhymes of that time of our life, even if it was just two months ago. That rhyme has passed right through me.

But I challenge time. I challenge memory, by always revisiting my past, making sense of it, so that future me can remember something fondly. I hope future-me can remember what she comes from and the people she comes from.

I've been alone out here in Ohio for only so long and even though it's just been 8 months, I've needed my own advice many times. I've needed to revisit an old blog episode about something I've already learned, and ask, "How did past me deal with that?" and Ngoc from the past, even if she was 17 or even if she was 20 and crude in her own advice, she had some real life experience. That was ALL real life. 

So yes, I'm basically admitting that I don't go to therapy.

But hey, that's my secret of how I make it through hard times haha.

It seems that some lessons, I keep re-learning like a silly girl. Maybe it's because I never learned it hard enough the first time LOL. But in my own words and poetry and episodes, I can revisit the history that made me possible today. And technically, I am currently future-Ngoc whenever I visit old episodes. 

And you should see me smile, as I remember fondly how younger me dealt and felt about things. How younger and less experienced me made bad decisions and did okay in the end. How younger me would prioritize a big problem or have her own take on silly situations.

I smile because I am so proud of little me. So proud that she did her best to bring present-day Ngoc to today.

I've grown so much of course, but I hope I never change too much. 

There are some really good things already here within me. I just need to keep growing them. And if there's bad stuff, I can just pull em' out, but for the most part, I think I'm managing. 

I think... I'm managing haha. :)

Future Ngoc, oh, miss ma'am, I hope you'll smile when you read this little short prose thing, and feel that you are loved no matter where you are, because you are so lovable. Because you're authentic and you're kind. And yes, you're naive. Yes, you trust people too much too easily. And yes, you believe that everyone is just like Ms. Karen, but it's okay. 

I think it's better that you believe that everyone is like Ms. Karen. I hope you always will. That no one breaks that image for you. Hope and goodness, I hope you'll see the world through those lens, even if others might call you naive or a crazy optimist in a time like today.

That's what makes you you, Ngoc. When you believe in good. And you become the good in the day-to-day. And you make all the necessary decisions and tackle all the challenges to be where your heart desires. 

You can never mess up if you follow your heart. Follow your instincts.

Episode 99: To DC, to see you

It's in the downhill. It's the way my Subaru, my little beannnn, could speed down too well, passing all the Nissans and Hondas that think they're fast beans. I take the left lane like a religion, chasing em all out.

I'm afraid to tell you that I've become that kind of driver. Yikes. But only on downhills. I'm a grandma on the uphills, driving 60 or under, as I gauge how my pedaling might affect my mileage.

It's in the fact that I was as high up as the birds. At the height of the clouds weaving in and out of the mountains and hills, just as my Subaru descends from the tallest height. The formidable stretch of green plains and the scattered houses built into the hills below me that looked like ants. How blue that sky was. I breathed then. I smiled so big. Like a kid at first bite into the crunchy, chocolate shell of ice cream cone.

My 15 hour playlist played on. I kept my left knee folded close to my chest, my only other foot pedaling steadily. I drove like an Asian, for real. Y'all. Haha. My own fucking gas money.

All gas. 6 hours on my ass, only to merge into the Houston-like traffic that is DC. 

Fuck DC traffic, oh my god. The instant merges without signaling. The rushing. The killing. There's no killing, but it felt like I'm going to die all the time.

And every mistake would cost me an extra 10 minutes. And I made several. By that point, I'm already stressed, and would unfold my left leg to press my left foot to the ground, a stressy spaghetti.

Despite the stress, I did smile again, when I saw the tip of the Washington Monument. That long vertical thing that is always the first to tell you on the I-395, that you've arrived to lawmaking America. Where just a week ago, Cory Booker stood 25 hours and 5 minutes for his filibuster. To which, I watched the last 2 hours of on YouTube live and cried like a baby in my hotel room, while my fingers greased with chicken wing sauce.

I cried.

To DC, I was where my heart was crying for.

And to Cory Booker, dang it, you're attractive. DANG.

Lawmaking daddy?!

Sigh. Agh. I had my Obama-crush stage. And now it's Booker time. ;(

Anyways. 

Friends. Family. Whoever reading this, I need you to know, the most attractive man to me is the man who loves his country so damn much that he fasts and dehydrates for a cohesive 25-hour speech, and doesn't fucking sit down, because he's a strong daddy. <3

Anyways. ANYWAYS.

My reason for going to DC?

1. Grace. The country of Myanmar is having military rule and had a deadly earthquake recently. Faced with such peril, the parallel government and the rebels are still fighting against the unjust military government today. The military government even ended rescue efforts after the earthquake. Corpses rot beneath cement crush. Grace has been suffering on her own. I needed to see her. And it was... <3

2. Cherry Blossoms season!!! TIDAL BASIN, MAYBE RUN INTO OBAMA?! 

So with these very different reasons, I ended up parking beneath a hospital to spend two nights with Grace.

My plan was?!

Well, to sit my ass down again and listen.

Grace has that love of a lifetime. She cries, almost as if she must suffer along, with her people. She shared me with me words that I will never forget and only highlight how much she loves her country.

"I can be tortured. I am willing to do anything. They can cut my ears off. Anything to me. I just want my country to get out of this nightmare," she said, her eyes powerful with love. Determined. Sad. Exhausted by love and worry.

She keeps an earthquake tracker on her phone. She calls her family every night and morning. Never knowing when it might be the last. So I sit there, and listen. And do my best to see her for all she is. See the story that she comes from, the determined people still in Myanmar, fighting and dying and forgotten by mass media. 

A footprint in the backyard, to the world.

So, she microwaves her meals lately. So, she keeps to herself. So, her hands fly quickly to her phone whenever the earthquake alarm screams, the most high pitched, loud noise.

So, it made sense that the first place we went to was an Asian supermarket, to get her groceries. It would take her 3 hours by public transport round trip, whilst carrying the groceries. No brainer that we went. <3

And it made sense when I told her I can drive us anywhere she wanted. And she wanted the Myanmar mini mart, the only one in DC. Perhaps the only one this side of the country. No brainer that we went.

And it's neatly tucked away. Folks, this mini-mart is a MINI-MART and it's tucked away almost, half basement level, behind a medium-sized plaza, yards away from trash and recycling. It's so tucked away that there's no direct entrance. You have to go through a door that someone who must have been super angry, kicked so hard, that glass has bent. And through there, you step a few stairs, open another door and there you are.

A full ass store, packed with ready-made meals. Dried fish, beef, chicken. So many spices and canned goods, and frozen upon frozen foods. Grace easily conversed with the store owners there. And was so excited to speak in her language, I could tell. Her language like music in the background while I stared keenly at the different seed packs and canned fruits I've never heard of.

Southeast Asia really has it all. DAMN.

Just seeing Grace intently take in the ready-made meals, excitedly grab a multitude of things. Put it into her little bag. A lighting up. A coming home.

I just wanted Grace to feel the coming home, that I've taken for granted. That I didn't know was such a privilege. Miss ma'am. Little miss bean, whom loves her country and people so much that she absorbs their suffering because it is her own. 

Gosh. 

A love so great that it is pain when it is pain.

And maybe this episode was going to go somewhere happier about DC. And maybe it would but just for now, I just wanted to hug Grace. As I drove us home from my Uncle's, the thin road ahead became thinner. Thoughts became clearer.

Eventually, we called up Manal, asked for her exact location and I struggled y'all, but I picked that girl up from the busy ass corridor known as U St. That place is a crazy pick up spot. Do not. My fool ass should have remembered the last time I was on U St.

And that was the summer of 2022, when Manal walked me back to the subway station so I could get home. We ran into two random ass white people. A cute lesbian and her bald bi friend. Yo, we're still kinda keeping in touch even today, honestly.

But when we asked them to help us take a picture of us, I think the four of us vibed too hard. 

We vibed so hard that they pulled us to the nearest Spongebob-looking-ass bar. I got a soda pop. Everyone else got drinks. I was still a non-drinker then haha. And later, I'd meet the girl again. She's the coolest. I'd later reunion with her while she sold gay merch at Smith College on a fateful afternoon, my senior year.

But that should have been telling. U St. My fool ass should have remembered. >-<

With Manal, I feel like she sees right through me. It's been 2 years since last. She knew me as the ultra chaotic girl. No wonder she was surprised. I was the unsmashed bug in college hahahaha. Deserving of all the smacks.

I remember I said most things without thinking. I had great reactions, great wit. And I was never diplomatic. Well, not as diplomatic and people-seasoned as I am today?? People-seasoned....?!

As seasoned with dealing with people. Two years ago, she saw her chaotic friend say the most off-the-wall things unafraid, safe in their traditionally all-women's institution. Protected by being in a bubble of other secure off-the-wall people, who could overhear at any time and laugh along. 

I could make anyone laugh back then.

So this past weekend when she saw me, it was an absolute reunion. But a total newness too. Ivanna, my best friend, has seen me change gradually. Jacob tells me that I've mellowed out. I used to be crazy. I'm softer now.

But for friends who haven't seen me in a while, the change must be drastic for them.

But then also, I want to know that the Ngoc that is growing inside of Ngoc is actually Ngoc and not a hollowed-out, corporate-seasoned, people-seasoned, mellowed people pleaser.

I'm scared folks. I'm scared, ngl.

Manal and I assessed each other, like the queens we are, still laughing at all the silliness in each other still, but new.

That's why reunions are both so exciting and scary. It's a chance to see your own new reflection, of yourself.

I love Manal's bluntness. And for that, Manal. She's a mature and wonderful little woman. <3

We parted ways at the bus stop. I couldn't stop waving at her, even as the bus pulled away. Tears bubbled behind my eyes. A friend. Gosh, from horse riding, from sitting in the same van that stank of horse and shit, from international politics classes upon international relations classes, from dinners that went on too fucking long.

Manal was there. Grace and I took the long way back home, avoiding clear the sus-looking stairs, where a bag of popcorn chips still laid gutted out and splayed. Like a crime scene. 

So... naw.

I packed neatly into my blue suitcase. We woke up early, Grace and I, to visit the National Mall at least once, to see if the cherry blossoms really did all blow off. Before we got there, I paid homage to the Vietnam War Memorial, as I always do, that long and silent walk. From one name to many names, to one name again. A period at the end of a sentence. 

I felt that deep thankfulness in my heart for every American soldier whom died fighting for Vietnamese democracy alongside the South Vietnamese, even if Americans stood to gain maybe a military base or whatever if they won the war with the South Vietnamese, Americans were there. They were there. Brave and young and gone now. And I can never stop being grateful for that.

We then paid homage to Abraham Lincoln's monument. Because, it's Abe. It's honest Abe. I fucking love Abraham LINCOLNNNNNN. Fuck my ex for not letting us stop at any of the Kentucky Abe stops. >-< Sigh. It's okay.

Abe was still enormous before me. Rereading his "4 score and 7 years ago" always gave me chills. <3 America. AMERICA. If she were honest. Like Abe.

My bad ankle grew sore but we pushed on, deeper into the next part of the mall. To cross over to the Tidal Basin where Obama was just spotted a few days ago. CAN YOU BELIEVE HOW DEPRESSED I WAS WHEN I REALIZED I MISSED OBAMA BY A FEW DAYS?!?! MY GOD. MY GOSH. I AM SOOOOO UNLUCKY. To say the least.

What made things harder was the 10-mile Cherry Bloom marathon. It was the only thing separating me from my cherry blossoms. So we fucked it, and joined the marathon, for a total of maybe 7 seconds to cross. And when we did, it was more than obvious that the blossoms had all blown off from days of rain.

I didn't sob.

I didn't cry.

I was empty inside.

Like the time my silly ex left me. What a silly man.

Like the time I realized that I missed Obama by a few days.

Well surely, Obama would be no where near the National Mall right now if the blossom trees looked so damn naked like that. We found some baby trees that still had some. And stared at those for a while, before turning back, defeated. Worn out. Fresh from a marathon. Me chugging along a bad ankle. 

And just when we thought spring sucked in DC, a field of tulips, hidden away by a grove of trees, appeared to our right. They're the kind of tulips we would have no way of knowing were there without walking back defeated.

In defeat, we found paradise.

A field of fucking tulips. According to one of my Har Mar trivia nights, tulips were a form of currency in the US of A, 1920s. AND I GET WHY. THEY'RE GORGEOUS. THEY'RE SO FAT. 

TULIPS HAVE A GYATT. THEY ARE SO FAT AT THE TOP AND THEIR STEMS ARE SO LONG AND FIRM AND THEIR COLORS ARE ANY YOU CAN THINK OF. THERE'S SO MUCH FULLNESS AND MY EYES WERE FEASTING. I WAS DROOLING INSIDE AND OUT. OH MY GOD, TULIPS?!?!?! TULIPSSSSSS.

So your biatch squatted low to the ground, and smiled at the them, for the pics. 

I'm still young. I'm still pretty. 

I'm still really cute.

I need the pictures. :)

So THENNN we took an Uber home. My blue suitcase stood alert and ready. Let it be known that it was a very long good-bye to Grace. A very long hug. She stood there sweetly, waiting for me to pay the parking garage, and waved me all the way until the barrier lifted. 

She's that kind of friend. Grace. Su Than Thar Nyi. :) Thank you, Grace.

The final stop was to see my homestay host. Ms. Jennifer whom hosted me in DC back in 2022, during my State Department internship. Whom invited me to go sailing with her. I wrote about that time in Episode 93. What an interesting time it was then. Wow. Life was really hard for me in 2022. T__T

Shit I can't believe I'm not at episode 100 yet. I'M TAKING TOO DAMN LONG WRITING TOO MANY POEMS AND EXPERIMENTAL PIECES. EW.

Anyways, to see her again. I brought along Taiwanese pineapple cake to share. We caught up on all things love. Like we usually do. I feel like such a girl with her hahaha.

Because I am a girl. Yes.

I didn't know I've missed her laugh so much. Or her disapprovals. Haha. She will have an honest opinion about you and you will see it on her face. I'm invited to her wedding y'all. :D WAHH!!!

And she called me honey. She called me daughter. She missed me.

And I missed her. What a gift it is to start as strangers and then love each other so hard, despite time and distance and a call or two once a year. What a miracle that love like that exists amongst ladies like me and Ms. Jennifer.

I'm smiling right now as I write this.

Ms. Jennifer thinks I've grown too. In all the ways. A charmer, though, I've always been. ;D

She is going to be one of few people in my life who can say my name so endearingly, even when it's said as "Knock". The most endearing "Knock" I've ever heard.

I took her for a spin in my Subaru. She was delighted. "You're a good driver, wow, Ngoc." She smiled.

She went off to get ready for church and I drove off to come back home, to somewhere in Marietta, Ohio. 6 hours away.

In the rain. Non-stop rain. It poured and poured and I almost fell asleep but I made it home. Barely. Exhausted. But undefeated.

Dear DC,

Thank you for giving me the opportunity to see a couple old friends, not all of them, but gosh, next time. Next time, I will see all of them. New and old. But this time, just the few people who I love for a few hours. Thank you DC, for having me.