Craving Growth (and Maybe a Burger Too)

Lately, my feed has turned into a steady stream of food pics and restaurant check-ins.

But I’ve been feeling a little one-dimensional lately.

The kind of full you get from a great meal is different than the kind of full you get from learning something new—stretching your mind, exploring a new idea, or creating something just because. I felt that deeper kind of full recently on a trip to Arizona. Yes, I got to spend time with good friends (and eat some amazing food), but what really stayed with me was the growth. The spark. And I didn’t realize how much I’d missed that part of myself until I got a little taste of it again.

It made me think about Sal.

Back in the day, Sal and I used to pick a topic—anything we were even mildly curious about—and take a class. Glass fusion. Marketing. Grant writing. Sometimes it was a two-hour workshop at the Sawdust Festival. Other times it was a weekend-long adult ed course or a full-on college class. It didn’t matter. We weren’t trying to become experts. We were just trying to grow. Together.

And now, I find myself missing that kind of friendship. That kind of rhythm.

Don’t get me wrong—I love a good meal, especially when it comes with a side of laughter and friends. These days, most of my social life revolves around lunch or dinner. That’s just how we hang now. Between packed schedules and overflowing to-do lists, meeting up over food checks two boxes at once: we catch up, and we eat.

So I’m putting this out into the world:

I’m looking for a friend who wants to take a class or workshop together. Nothing too serious. Just something that makes us go, “That sounds kinda fun.”

We’ll show up, try something new, maybe laugh a lot, and then grab a burger (or tacos or dumplings) afterward to debrief like we’re back in high school.

If this sounds like your vibe, hit me up. Let’s learn something, make something, be a little awkward, and grow a little—together.

Lom Wong: A Thai Feast That Tastes Like Home

From cozy takeout vibes to full-on culinary storytelling—Thai food has range. And Lom Wong in Phoenix? It’s giving masterclass.

 

I was visiting Georgia and Jose, my ride-or-dies in all things adventurous and edible. When they said they were taking me somewhere special, I didn’t expect to be whisked straight into what felt like the soul of Thailand, right there in the Arizona desert.

First Impressions

The moment we walked through the wrought-iron gate, I smelled it—the warm, smoky scent of temple incense. Not that patchouli nonsense you find at a farmers market. This was the real deal: the kind used in home altars and Buddhist ceremonies across Thailand. The kind that smells like reverence and childhood. It hung gently in the air, welcoming and grounding.

The Space

The inside was rustic and elegant all at once. Exposed brick, dark wood beams, and polished concrete floors set a mood that was both intimate and alive. Smooth leather seats beckoned. Woven baskets hung from the ceiling like floating lanterns. Wedding photos of the two chefs hung on the wall. The colors were just as rich as the flavors in the food. Every detail felt intentional—earthy, rooted, and warm. In the background, old-school Thai luk thung music crooned softly, the nasal vocals pulling me back to my parents’ living room on lazy Sunday mornings.

The Order

We skipped the à la carte menu and went straight for the “อะไรก็ได้” (arai ko dai) option. It loosely translates to “whatever works” or “I’m good with anything.” But here, it felt more like a trust fall. Like the chefs were saying, Sit down. We got you. This is how we eat at home.

And we did. And it was EVERYTHING.

Course after Course

Dishes arrived in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Cold bites, then hot ones. Soft textures followed by crunch. I couldn’t keep track of what was coming, and I didn’t care. I was fully present. 

Here’s what we were served (at least the ones I can remember after the food coma that followed):

Naw Tod (หน่อทอด) - Fried bamboo shoots with Thai basil, served with a spicy and savory crushed peanut dipping sauce (nam jim)
Yam Mamuang Boran (ยำมะม่วงโบราณ) - Traditional-style green mango salad with hand-torn shrimp, crispy shallots, toasted coconut and peanuts, dressed with coconut cream, lime, and fish sauce.
Tom Kha Gai (ต้มข่าไก่) - A creamy and tangy coconut milk soup made with chicken, lemongrass, makrut lime leaves, galangal, tomato, mushrooms, and fresh herbs.
Pad Pak Kwang Tong (ผัดผักกวางตุ้ง) - Stir-fried baby bok choy and tofu with garlic and chili.
Naem Khao Tod (แหนมข้าวทอด) - Crispy rice salad flavored with curry paste and mixed with cured pork sausage, fresh ginger, shallots, peanuts, lime, and cilantro.
Bamee Moo Dang (บะหมี่หมูแดง) - Egg noodles served with Chinese-style BBQ pork (char siu), minced pork, bok choy, crispy wonton, bean sprouts, and a house-made sauce.
Ba Buey Krati (บ่าบุ๋ยคลักติ) - Moklen-style crispy pork belly curry made with hand-pounded red curry paste, rich coconut cream, makrut lime leaves, and Thai chili.
Tub Tim Grob (ทับทิมกรอบ) - A chilled Thai dessert featuring crunchy water chestnut pearls and translucent palm seeds in coconut milk with shaved ice—sweet, creamy, and refreshing.

A Journey, Not Just a Meal

This wasn’t a meal. It was a journey. This isn’t a “build your own plate” kind of place. It’s a “let go and experience Thai food the way it’s meant to be enjoyed” kind of place—with curiosity, respect, and maybe a glass of water nearby in case the chili creeps up on you. (Which it will.)

🍛 No substitutions. No customizations.
🌶️ Flavors that don’t hold back.
💰 A bit of a splurge, but absolutely worth every bite.

Cocktails That Break the Rules (in a good way)

Also? The cocktail menu is 🔥. Inspired by classic Thai dishes, each drink channels a familiar flavor in a totally unexpected way. It shouldn’t work—but it does.

Back Patio Dreams and Moo Krata Nights

They do Moo krata (หมูกระทะ) on their back patio during the cooler months, plus a lineup of grilled skewers I’m already daydreaming about.

Moo krata is a beloved Thai dining experience that blends the joy of Korean barbecue with the warmth of communal hot pot. The word translates to "pork pan," and that's exactly what it is—a domed grill surrounded by a shallow moat of broth, set right in the center of the table. Friends and family gather around, grilling slices of meat and veggies on the top while simmering noodles, greens, and meatballs in the broth below. It’s less about the formality of a meal and more about the shared experience—slow-paced, laughter-filled, and deeply social. 

As soon as Phoenix dips below “surface of the sun” temperatures, I’m back.

Chon Thai

Hanging out with the Shagster and Stephen in Chandler, AZ, and they took me to their go-to Thai spot: Chon Thai. Not every meal needs to be a culinary expedition—sometimes you just want comfort food that shows up fast, fills you up, and doesn’t interrogate your spice tolerance. 😂

Appetizers are a must, so we ordered some Chicken Satay Skewers and some Pot Stickers:

Shannon always orders her faves:

• Shrimp Fried Rice (ข้าวผัดกุ้ง – Khao Pad Goong)

• Garlic Chicken Stir Fry (ไก่ผัดกระเทียม – Gai Pad Gratiem)

I got a little excited and went for:

• Chicken Prik King (ไก่ผัดพริกขิง – Gai Pad Prik Khing)

• Spicy Eggplant Stir Fry (มะเขือยาวผัดเผ็ด – Makuea Yao Pad Phet)

• And for dessert: Fried Banana with Coconut Ice Cream (กล้วยทอดกับไอศครีมมะพร้าว – Kluay Tod Gap Ice Cream Maprao)

Yes, I went all in. No regrets.

This is the kind of place that’s happy to tweak your order just how you like it. You won’t find obscure regional specialties here, but you will find familiar favorites, generous portions, and a menu that’s super approachable—especially if you’re still figuring out where you stand on the fish sauce spectrum. No shame if you’re a “mild please, extra rice, no cilantro” kind of dinner.

Perfect for weekday lunches, picky eaters, or Thai food newbies looking for something cozy and crowd-pleasing. Sometimes simple is exactly what hits the spot.

Bathroom Stalls in the U.S.: The Great Privacy Gap

Much to the horror of my international friends, American public restrooms are infamous for their wildly un-private stall design. You’ve got gaps on the sides where you can make accidental eye contact, a foot of space at the bottom so you can spot your neighbor’s shoes, and zero effort toward creating a sense of dignity. Total privacy? That’s a cute idea we’ve clearly decided to skip.

As someone who grew up in the U.S., I’m used to it. I’ve made peace with the gaps. But even I was caught off guard by a restroom at a highway rest stop in Arizona.

I didn’t even need to go inside the stall to notice it. Walking up, it was obvious: the door was so short, you could see over it. Not if you’re sitting, of course—but if you’re standing inside the stall? You and the person washing their hands could easily make eye contact and have a full-blown conversation. No need to text your travel buddy—you can just shout stall-to-sink.

To be fair, I get why these designs exist. They’re cheaper, easier to clean, and supposedly help prevent shady behavior. But as someone who’s used public restrooms around the world—where stalls are fully enclosed and privacy is treated like a basic human right—it’s still baffling that this is the norm here.

So if you’re traveling to the U.S. for the first time, prepare yourself. Our bathrooms might be stocked with toilet paper, but they’re running dangerously low on modesty.

The Broken Asian Card

Some friendships are built on shared playlists and cute brunches. Mine and Amanda’s? Built on spontaneous road trips, boxed wine and movie marathons on the couch during “that” time of the month, and a “locals only” adventure through Thailand, where Amanda met my friends, my family, and somehow didn’t get heatstroke.

Amanda’s not just a friend—she’s my sister from another mister. So naturally, I issued her an honorary Asian card. She’s been using it responsibly… good for sarcastic auntie jokes, instinctively removing shoes indoors, and knowing how to side-eye mediocre Drunken Noodles.

Then today, she texted me: “I broke it.” I told her it’s fine. You don’t lose your honorary status over a shattered bottle. Soy sauce washes off. Loyalty doesn’t.

And our friendship? Indestructible. Just like a good rice cooker.

You Can Love Both: A Third Culture Kid’s Guide to Not Choosing Sides

Third Culture Kid (TCK)

Let’s clear something up: just because you have a new address doesn't mean you have to trade one part of yourself for another. You can love where you came from and where you are now. That’s not confusion—it’s range.

What is a Third Culture Kid

I’m what’s called a Third Culture Kid, or TCK if you're acronym-friendly. It’s someone who grows up in a culture different from the one their parents came from. I grew up in the overlap—think Los Angeles, Bangkok, and more than a few zip codes in between, but somehow all feel like home. It’s not always tidy. But it’s honest, layered, and alive.

I love California. I love the ocean air, the casual slang, the way strangers say “bro” with sincerity. But I also light up when I hear Thai in a crowded room, when the scent of lemongrass and chili reminds me of my roots. And just because I’ve fallen hard for Bangkok’s chaos, spirit, and late-night food stalls doesn’t mean I’ve ghosted In-N-Out or SoCal sunsets. I hold them all.

You Don't Have to Choose

Some folks seem to think you have to pick. That moving forward means erasing where you started. Like we’re only allowed one cultural subscription at a time. Cute theory—but no.

For those of us raised in the in-between, the idea of choosing just one version of ourselves feels... limited. We were built to blend. We know that identity isn't a zero-sum game. It’s a mosaic.

There’s a quiet beauty in holding space for both the old and the new. In letting childhood traditions and current joys sit at the same table. In knowing that your sense of home isn’t a fixed dot on a map—it’s something you carry with you, shape, and redefine as you go.

You Get to Love it All

So, to anyone who’s ever crossed a border, blended worlds, or built a life in places your ancestors might not recognize—you’re not alone. You don’t have to choose. You get to love both. You get to love ALL.

And if someone tells you otherwise? Just smile, wish them well, and keep thriving in the layered, expansive, and beautifully complicated life they couldn’t even begin to imagine.

We the People: Showing Up for Each Other and the Future

Today, on Flag Day, people across the country are gathering — not just in protest, but in purpose. For community. For country.

This moment isn’t about one man — it’s about all of us.

It’s about the kind of world we want to live in, and the kind of people we choose to be.

We’re not just pushing back — we’re moving forward.

From the NO KINGS protest to the joyful celebrations of PRIDE MONTH, today is about showing up. It’s about standing together for freedom, dignity, equity, and love — and refusing to be silenced, sidelined, or erased.

I see you bringing your voice, your courage, and your care.

Nonviolence isn’t passive — it’s powerful. It’s a strategy, a discipline, and a declaration of the future we’re here to create.

And to my fellow photographers, storytellers, and documentarians: I hope you capture the spirit, not just the spectacle. Show the kindness in the crowd. The power of diversity. The hand-painted signs. The open hands. The strangers becoming neighbors. 

Yes, anger is louder. And yes, conflict gets the headlines.

For the values we hold and the future we still believe in.
But history needs to see the HOPE, too.
We get to shape that story — and we’re shaping it right now.  It’s being built — by us, for all of us.

THE WORLD IS WATCHING. 

We Are the City of Angels—and the World Is Watching

 A City in the Shadow of Fear

There’s a chill in the air here in Los Angeles. ICE agents are raiding homes, businesses, and neighborhoods—making assumptions based not on legal status or due process, but on race, language, and appearance. People are scared. Communities are tense. The line between safety and fear is razor-thin for many Angelenos, regardless of where they were born.

It’s heartbreaking. It’s enraging. But it’s not the whole story.

Because while fear may be in the air, it does not define who we are. It never has.

This Is the City of Angels

Los Angeles is more than palm trees and freeways, more than movie sets and headlines. This city is a living mosaic of humanity. We’re home to over 200 languages. We’re the place where tacos and kimchi and palak paneer live on the same block. Where street murals tell stories of struggle and triumph. Where neighbors become chosen family.

Together with the surrounding Greater Los Angeles area, this region is not a melting pot—we’re a garden. Each culture, each story, each life adds beauty, flavor, and richness to the whole.

We stand together as Angelenos, as Californians, and as Americans.

We are the Golden State.

We are the world’s fourth-largest economy.

And that power comes not from sameness, but from difference. From immigrants. From artists. From essential workers. From innovators and creators. From every background imaginable. We are the dream that many said couldn’t work—but we make it work every day.

Peace Doesn’t Mean Passive

Right now, some would have us believe that “keeping the peace” means keeping our heads down. Staying silent. Looking away.

But here’s the truth: peace doesn’t mean passive. Real peace requires action.

We will support and protect each other. We will not let our neighbors face these raids alone. We will not stand by while families are torn apart. We will speak up, show up, and hold the line—not with hate, but with advocacy. 

We Are Not the Stereotypes

There are those who look at a city like Los Angeles and see chaos, danger, or dysfunction. They see our cultural complexity and label it as something broken rather than beautiful. They hear our accents, see our skin tones, or witness our protests, and call us un-American.

But that couldn’t be further from the truth.

We are not the monsters that pundits make us out to be. We are not broken. We are not bitter. And we are certainly not the enemy.

We are the promise of what a truly inclusive society can look like. We are the proof that it’s possible for different people to share space, resources, ideas—and even joy.

This is our moment to show the rest of the country who we really are—not just in our words, but in how we treat one another when it counts.

Let’s Be the Example

What happens in Los Angeles doesn’t stay in Los Angeles. We set trends. We shape culture. We influence policy. What we do here reverberates far beyond city limits.

And that means we have a responsibility. Not just to ourselves, but to the world.

Let us be a model of what peace and cooperation among diverse people can be. Let us show that safety and justice are not mutually exclusive. Let us prove that a multicultural society doesn’t just survive—it thrives when people look out for each other.

We’re not perfect. But we’re learning. We’re evolving. And in moments like this, we have the chance to lead—not by force, but by example.

Let’s invite the world to see how diversity can be a superpower. Let’s make it clear that in a place like LA, no one stands alone.

For the World Beyond

To my friends outside of Los Angeles—many of you I met while growing up in Thailand, attending Ruamrudee International School, traveling, or through this global digital village—we see you too. And we know you’re watching.

What’s happening in the U.S. right now is a mirror of deeper questions facing every nation:

Who belongs?

Who gets to be safe?

Who do we protect?

In LA, we are doing our best to answer those questions with compassion, not cruelty. With unity, not fear. With action, not apathy.

We hope that by living our values publicly, loudly, and unapologetically, we can remind others that building a just and inclusive society is possible—even when it's hard.

Choose Action, Choose Care

If you're in Los Angeles right now, I invite you to act in whatever way you can:

• Check in on your neighbors.

• Share resources and updates.

• Speak up when you see injustice.

• Show up for people who may be too afraid to ask for help.
  

If you're outside the city, consider how your own community reflects—or rejects—these same values. The need for empathy, courage, and solidarity is global.

The World Is Watching

Los Angeles is being tested. So is the nation. And in a time of uncertainty, we must become certain of who we are—and who we refuse to be.

We refuse to be silent.

We refuse to turn on each other.

We refuse to shrink.

Instead, we will rise. With pride. With purpose. With compassion.

This city does not just sparkle—it leads.

AND THE WORLD IS WATCHING.