In response to my cascade of messages asking for her guidance, Phiona had simply referred me to her very old Youtube channel.

PHIONA: I applied the textbook teachings of composition and choreography to my videos. They should be easy to spot.

TAI: When is our next session?

TAI: You didn't answer my questions. I know you are busy, but even a sentence's worth of explanation will be helpful.

TAI: What happened between Hidden Stars and you? Why does Charu think I'm any of their business? I want to understand.

--

TAI: [Image of a painting]

TAI: Are you able to transcribe this?

PHIONA: It's an old song. "All Over Again." One of my first.

--

Why do you talk about clothes

Like gold

What's more golden than authenticity

See me in pink jackets and folds

Beauty, I'm told

Is what reflects reality

Follow me as I change out of disguises

I'll show you how to shop for you, not for others' eyes

YouTube automatically loaded the next recommendation, which turned out to be a black screen. Pops of static had me wondering if my laptop needed to go on life support. When the static cleared, a musical chime played and a voice introduced me to "Phi's Diary." The scripted, monotone preamble reminded me of how I'd tried to present my university projects in a professional manner--nostalgic, but of an era I didn't miss.

"If you're on a low budget, arrange the room in a way that spells out different stories and has multiple depths just by walking around it. I like to play with the same setting for multiple songs. There's a lot of shots needed if you don't want it to be boring.

"But you'll find a way to make it interesting. A tip I got from a fellow anime friend is making sure the object of focus is in the same location of the screen when you're switching between camera angles. That way the eye can follow you without getting whiplash."

"As always, thanks for tuning in to my project. Some days it really does feel like putting your nose to the grindstone. And other days it's more doable than living an actual life. I'll keep this going as long as I can."

Her older songs were harder to understand. I listened to them, then skimmed through their reflections.

All Over Again

Say you love me

Say you love me

Say you love me

But do you see me now?

Hold me close

(As I pick up the scraps)

Of the clothes you bought me

(This warmth is a trap)

Say I love you

Say I love you

Say I love you

But do you really love me back?

Thousands of miles away

And I can't break free of this love

And still I come back

Come back

Come back

"For today's listener question...well I have two that can be answered the same. The first is, 'Why don't you rap?' and the second one is, 'Do you feel pressure when posting your music online?'

"In rap...well, I know many folks for whom rap has been their saviour. It's important. I know. And it's not the only place with bigotry. It just hurts more to realize you don't belong in a space where you should.

"And do I feel pressure? Of course. I don't know if saying all of that was from the heart or from the brain or from an obligation to need to touch those topics. Everything is a statement. Nothing is ever just something. It's so much more."

As I sifted through different memories, scribbling down the atmosphere for days when I felt content, the ideas stayed inert. A graveyard of inspiration. Nothing was good enough. Really, the only creative thing I'd accomplished today was an Instagram post.

"If you're searching for Vietnamese soul food in Toronto, look no further than Quan's Restaurant and Bar. After five long years, Quan is re-opening his doors to delight our taste buds with his unique spin on Vietnamese cuisine. I'll be there to show my support! I will have the honour of kicking off the celebratory night by singing songs close to my heart. Additionally, a limited supply of stickers, magnets and CDs will be available for in-person purchase, all illustrated and designed by myself. (Yeah I know, CDs are old, but my Instagram poll won out!)

Quan and my family go way back. It'd mean a lot for you to not only support my work, but also support his restaurant.

But I want to know your thoughts: what sort of songs should I sing? It's my first time opening for such an event. I want to write a fresh song or two to reflect this new beginning.

If I accepted Charu's invitation, I'd have professional advice at my fingertips. A plethora of industry expertise and a guaranteed audience, all for the fair price of your autonomy. I wouldn't have to painstakingly craft each song to perfection, praying and hoping it'd be the one to launch my career for real.

If I rejected Charu's invitation, I'd be taking a detour from the one thing in life I've been desperately chasing for--proof that my parents' university-dropout son isn't a failure.

I texted Nora.

TAI: Should I join Hidden Stars???

She replied in a flash.

NORA: Yes!

NORA: It is SO well known, and it'll support artists like you! That's an amazing opportunity!

She went on and on, but I stopped reading. Who were the artists "like me"? As in, people of colour? As in, musicians of colour whose music wasn't necessarily fully international, but rooted from a second-generation perspective growing up in the West, and thus might not satisfy the palette of those looking for something "unique" from us?

Hitting backspace on the email draft, I thought of asking Ba for help. I pictured him working on a half-finished nailed-together contraption in the basement, the lines in his face beaten down by life's hurdles.

How did he do it? How did he sacrifice so much without losing who he was in the process?

I texted Tienne, "I know what you mean now. I don't know who I'll become, either."

The bedroom grew larger. I closed my eyes and put my invisible hands in my invisible face. How could it be that both options would fail my parents, just in different ways?