in the notebook

Saigon and all the ways i survived

whether they are the days i return to Saigon just to soothe my own hurt, the days i come back to be spoiled and find warmth in the arms of my friends, or simply the days i return just to stand there, lost and alone in the middle of a passing crowd, watching everything around me shift and turn like a kaleidoscope.

i like conversations that make me feel as though i am seeing into someone else's soul. lately, i have been spending a lot of time with a few people, and i have been telling them all the good things i have ever known, the things i spent so many years wishing someone had once said to me.

do you know how many times life had to throw me around for me to become this gentle?

in the autopsy

how to ruin a daughter

anyone who's ever known me when i'm in love knows how completely fucked up i can be. i have a habit of wanting love more than anything in the world and then having absolutely no idea what to do with it when it's mine.

in the machine

the code that helped land Apollo 11

i'm sharing the original Apollo 11 source code, written for NASA's historic 1969 mission that landed the first humans on the moon. developed by teams at MIT, including one led by Margaret Hamilton, this software helped guide the spacecraft and kept critical operations running even when

in the machine

on AI, art, and human hands

i had a boss named Dave. Dave loved AI. Dave also had opinions about how i was using AI. a lot of opinions. wrong model. no tools. no retrieval. no memory. no agent. no second agent supervising the first agent. Dave, i am trying to rename a file. i got

in the notebook

the every version of me

i don't think people realize how quickly i have changed over the years, mostly because from the outside it probably looked like reinvention. from where i stood, it often felt more like burial. there was the million-dollar baby Bailey whose ambitious lit up the building. she learned