It’s December 25. Instead of opening gifts by the tree or stealing kisses under the mistletoe, I’m 30,000 feet in the air, midway through a 24-hour journey back to Singapore.

I can’t remember when Christmas last felt this un-Christmassy. Not because I’m traveling today. Not really because of a lack of effort. I threw a holiday party and served mulled wine alongside an elaborate charcuterie board. I have a seven-foot living and breathing Douglas fir that I painstakingly decorated so it could give off designer. I even spent two hours watching YouTube Shorts on repeat to learn how to tie a bow properly. [Side note: It is impossible pick up a skill in fifteen seconds; I cannot recommend enough watching regular YouTube videos instead.]

I deliberated for weeks before deciding to go home for the holidays. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to. I have parents in my 70s to see; nephews aged 7 and 5 that I have yet to spend a Christmas with since the pandemic. It was that my year had been so unpredictable that by the time I felt comfortable disappearing into a time zone thirteen hours ahead, flights had become both exorbitant and unavailable.

In the end, I pulled the trigger and settled on spending Christmas in the air.

2025 has been a year of motion. Before this flight, I’d taken forty others: eight and a half days in the air, eighty-eight thousand miles traveled. Apparently enough to circle the Earth three and a half times.

My body has been on the move. So have my mind, my heart, my spirit.

This year alone, I went through a breakup, sold a company, published a book, and started a new job, only to have that company acquired three weeks later. I moved apartments. Moved cities. Moved states. It was also a year of firsts: my first time vibe coding, my first NFL playoff game, my first attempt at DJing, my first Turo rental, my first speeding ticket (incidentally, not in the Turo).

It was also a year of revisiting firsts. My first time writing poetry since 2008. My first time living in New York since 2011. My first time snowboarding since 2015. My first first date since 2019. My first time living alone since 2021.

I work in an industry that moves faster than you can keep up with, one that proves you wrong over and over again. Yet most people around me seem to have found a sense of settlement. Not settling for, but settling into something: marriages, partnerships, children, careers with rhythm.

Not I. I am anything but settled.

There were moments this year when that in itself felt deeply unsettling. And many others where it felt exactly right, exactly where I needed to be, exactly who I needed to become.

George Orwell, in his novel 1984, famously coined the term doublethink: the ability to hold two contradictory beliefs at once, and accept both as true.

If I remember 2025 for anything, it will be the year I became comfortable holding contradictions. Craving routine while still wanting spontaneity. Enjoying being alone while still feeling a deep sense of loneliness. Wanting love while fearing intimacy. Wondering what it would be like to build a life with someone again, while still defiantly clinging on to my independence. Feeling homesick, yet knowing there is nowhere I would rather be right now than here – in a country where my right to stay can change on the whim of one arguably deranged man.

Christmas this year has been like the rest of it, spent in a liminal space. Somewhere between time zones, between versions of myself, watching the map inch forward on a seatback screen. I am unsettled. But I am moving. And for now, that is all that matters.

P.S. If you enjoy my writing, I ask you for only one thing! That is, to my pick up a copy of my first book, Digital Mavericks, or leave a review if you already have a copy. I make literally a dollar on every sale – I just want to make crypto more human and accessible, and I think my book does just that 💛

It’s December 25. Instead of opening gifts by the tree or stealing kisses under the mistletoe, I’m 30,000 feet in the air, midway through a 24-hour journey back to Singapore.

I can’t remember when Christmas last felt this un-Christmassy. Not because I’m traveling today. Not really because of a lack of effort. I threw a holiday party and served mulled wine alongside an elaborate charcuterie board. I have a seven-foot living and breathing Douglas fir that I painstakingly decorated so it could give off designer. I even spent two hours watching YouTube Shorts on repeat to learn how to tie a bow properly. [Side note: It is impossible pick up a skill in fifteen seconds; I cannot recommend enough watching regular YouTube videos instead.]

I deliberated for weeks before deciding to go home for the holidays. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to. I have parents in my 70s to see; nephews aged 7 and 5 that I have yet to spend a Christmas with since the pandemic. It was that my year had been so unpredictable that by the time I felt comfortable disappearing into a time zone thirteen hours ahead, flights had become both exorbitant and unavailable.

In the end, I pulled the trigger and settled on spending Christmas in the air.

2025 has been a year of motion. Before this flight, I’d taken forty others: eight and a half days in the air, eighty-eight thousand miles traveled. Apparently enough to circle the Earth three and a half times.

My body has been on the move. So have my mind, my heart, my spirit.

This year alone, I went through a breakup, sold a company, published a book, and started a new job, only to have that company acquired three weeks later. I moved apartments. Moved cities. Moved states. It was also a year of firsts: my first time vibe coding, my first NFL playoff game, my first attempt at DJing, my first Turo rental, my first speeding ticket (incidentally, not in the Turo).

It was also a year of revisiting firsts. My first time writing poetry since 2008. My first time living in New York since 2011. My first time snowboarding since 2015. My first first date since 2019. My first time living alone since 2021.

I work in an industry that moves faster than you can keep up with, one that proves you wrong over and over again. Yet most people around me seem to have found a sense of settlement. Not settling for, but settling into something: marriages, partnerships, children, careers with rhythm.

Not I. I am anything but settled.

There were moments this year when that in itself felt deeply unsettling. And many others where it felt exactly right, exactly where I needed to be, exactly who I needed to become.

George Orwell, in his novel 1984, famously coined the term doublethink: the ability to hold two contradictory beliefs at once, and accept both as true.

If I remember 2025 for anything, it will be the year I became comfortable holding contradictions. Craving routine while still wanting spontaneity. Enjoying being alone while still feeling a deep sense of loneliness. Wanting love while fearing intimacy. Wondering what it would be like to build a life with someone again, while still defiantly clinging on to my independence. Feeling homesick, yet knowing there is nowhere I would rather be right now than here – in a country where my right to stay can change on the whim of one arguably deranged man.

Christmas this year has been like the rest of it, spent in a liminal space. Somewhere between time zones, between versions of myself, watching the map inch forward on a seatback screen. I am unsettled. But I am moving. And for now, that is all that matters.

P.S. If you enjoy my writing, I ask you for only one thing! That is, to my pick up a copy of my first book, Digital Mavericks, or leave a review if you already have a copy. I make literally a dollar on every sale – I just want to make crypto more human and accessible, and I think my book does just that 💛