What part of your routine do you always try to skip if you can?

In daily life, there’s nothing I really try to avoid.

But at work—especially in software development and troubleshooting—

I often feel too lazy to document things properly.

Still, reason always wins.

Good documentation isn’t just for others;

it’s for the future version of myself—

so that knowledge doesn’t fade, it continues to build.

Who is the most famous or infamous person you have ever met?

It happened about a year ago.

I was walking down the street when I suddenly recognized a familiar face — magician Bing-Hsün Tsou.

He noticed me too. For a moment, my inner fan completely took over, and I went straight up to ask for a photo together.

He smiled and said yes.

When we shook hands, I felt something unexpected — his palm was thick and slightly rough.

Not the delicate hand of a performer under the spotlight, but the hand of someone who’s practiced endlessly, shaped by countless cards, props, and effort.

That simple handshake left an impression on me.

It reminded me that the real magic isn’t on the stage — it’s in the persistence, the long hours, and the quiet dedication behind the scenes.

He thanked me sincerely before we parted ways.

Later that night, I looked at the photo again and thought,

Magic may amaze people, but what truly inspires is the passion you can actually feel — even through a handshake.

Having a pet is like adding a quiet, breathing companion to your home.

They don’t ask why you’re tired, nor do they offer advice.

They simply stay—

and in that silent loyalty, you remember what it means to be trusted.

Sometimes I feel the human world is too crowded, too noisy.

But a pet’s world is simple—

eat, walk, sleep, look at you.

That brief eye contact feels more real than any algorithm.

Maybe that’s the best thing about having a pet—

they teach us how to live simply again,

and remind us that kindness is not weakness, but strength.

Name the most expensive personal item you’ve ever purchased (not your home or car).

If I’m being honest… it’s probably the phone I bought for my partner.

Not the most luxurious thing in the world, but definitely the one that meant the most.

It wasn’t really about the specs or the price — it was about that small smile when they opened the box,

that sense of “shared life,” where what’s yours becomes ours.

Funny how the most expensive items we buy aren’t really ours in the end —

they become memories, wrapped in moments we quietly replay later on.

What podcasts are you listening to?

I’m not someone who listens to podcasts every day.

But when I do, I usually turn to Listen to the World by CommonWealth Magazine.

Each episode lasts around twelve minutes—short, clear, and never dull.

It feels like a daily sketch of the world—economy, technology, industry, and global affairs all condensed into one cup.

For someone like me, who’s always moving between data and systems,

this kind of audio briefing is like a morning black coffee—brief, awakening, and full of flavor.

What was your favorite subject in school?

It feels like a long time ago — those student days when life was simpler, yet full of discovery.

Among all the subjects, programming was the one that truly made me feel alive.

There was a friendly competition between the Information Systems and Computer Engineering departments.

I still remember the quiet tension, the long hours in front of the screen,

and that little spark of pride when my code finally ran — perfectly.

When they announced I’d won first place, I smiled, but inside, I was glowing.

That moment changed something in me.

It wasn’t just about writing code; it was about creating logic from chaos,

turning a blank screen into something that moves, thinks, and responds.

Even now, years later, that same feeling returns every time I build something new —

that quiet joy of watching an idea come to life, line by line.

When I rest, it never feels enough.

When I work, there’s always something unfinished.

When I play, time slips away too fast.

And then, suddenly — ten years are gone.

We keep saying we need more time,

always chasing what we think we lack.

But maybe that’s the point —

to keep remembering

that every moment we do have

is already time worth holding on to.

Three years from now, I don’t ask for much —

just peace, stability, and enough abundance to live with ease.

A calm morning, a warm heart, and steady hands for the work I love.

That’s all I wish for — everything peaceful, everything full.