A Perfect Day Without Magic

This is a late entry to the March blog jam hosted by Alex, part of Wiwi's Chinese-language blog party. I originally drafted this in both Chinese and English, but couldn't get the EN version right in time. Six weeks after publishing the Chinese version, I finally finished this English one.

Ideal Day A — The Romantic Adventurer

7:30 — Wake up naturally, no alarm.

7:30–8:30 — Complete my 5 km run under the first rays of dawn. Strength training, hydration, shower.

8:30–9:30 — First coffee of the day. Confirm all email reply drafts. Check the PIF community for any interesting tasks or favors. Review what my AI chief of staff Lia accomplished overnight and give her clear instructions to direct the rest of the team.

9:30–13:30 — Take the boat out with friends and the dog for some fun. Pure relaxation at the beach — swimming occasionally, reading when the mood strikes, completely losing track of time. (Still a slight PTSD flashback from last week's pirate-infested waters, but coastal cruising feels much safer.)

13:30–14:30 — Lunch: fresh local seafood.

14:30–16:00 — Final polish on tonight's keynote.

16:00–17:00 — Quick check-in with Lia — no urgent messages. Perfect.

17:00–18:00 — Grab a light dinner on the way to the venue.

18:00–19:00 — Network with other speakers and organizers — all wonderfully eccentric in the traditional sense.

19:00–20:30 — Deliver my talk: "Creating Your Own Meaning of Life from a Meaningless Existence." Introduce the Pay-It-Forward mutual aid community founded in 2026; make the most of this in-person annual gathering to connect with everyone.

20:30–22:30 — Head to a local jazz bar. Improv singing with friends, jamming and flirting with new people.

22:30–23:00 — Back to the cozy hotel. Check messages, play with the dog, confirm all documents are ready, inventory supplies for the one-month voyage back to Taiwan. After all, I'm the captain.

23:00 — Shower (or skip it) and sleep.

Ideal Day B — Work-Life Balance

5:30 — Wake up naturally, no alarm.

6:30–7:30 — 5 km morning run with the dog, then shower.

7:30–9:30 — Kiss my partner goodbye, drop the kid off at school, tinker with personal side projects.

9:30–10:30 — First coffee of the day in the office. Start work — prepare the memo for the afternoon meeting.

10:30–12:30 — Review project progress, sync details with the product team.

12:30–14:00 — Quick lunch while flipping through notes.

14:00–17:00 — Board meeting: advocate for the R&D proposal to implement new AI tools.

17:00–18:00 — Wrap up. High-five the team — we got board approval for the AI initiative.

18:00–19:00 — Head home; my partner has already picked up the kid and walked the dog.

19:00–20:30 — Screen-free family dinner. Chat about everyone's day, last weekend's gaming moments, plan this year's trip to Africa.

20:30–21:30 — Shower, put the kid to bed, then more time on personal projects (pushing PIF toward Republic Labs).

21:30–22:30 — Read for 30–45 minutes, pillow talk with my partner, fall asleep together.

Ideal Day C — High-Impact Power Player

5:30 — Alarm wakes me.

5:30–6:00 — Check emails from boss and/or clients. Reply to anything urgent.

6:00–7:30 — Daily 5 km run, hydrate, shower, mentally map out today's tasks.

7:30–10:30 — Grab food on the way; meet opposing counsel at 9:00. Settlement fails — litigation is inevitable. Conference call with our law firm on the drive back to the office.

10:30–12:30 — Brief executives on the case. Outline best/worst-case scenarios.

12:30–13:30 — Back at the office. 15-minute NSDR/power nap on the way; quickly down supplements heading to the conference room.

13:00–14:00 — Explain to the board why donating $100M to an educational charity is beneficial for the company in the long term.

14:00–15:00 — Online call with government officials: explain why the $10B investment is a triple win for the public, the government, and corporate profits.

15:00–15:30 — Update internal stakeholders on the government meeting's atmosphere and attitude.

15:30–16:00 — Corporate scandal breaks. Media is requesting comments.

16:00–16:30 — Fact-check, summarize the incident, schedule a 17:30 press conference.

16:30–17:30 — Double-check facts and remedies, prepare a memo for the CEO.

17:30–18:30 — Live press conference: state our position, provide written materials.

18:30–19:00 — Follow up with the PR team to supplement materials.

19:00–20:30 — Sushi bento in the conference room while debriefing the crisis and next steps.

20:30–21:00 — A director informs us she will veto the donation proposal in tomorrow's vote.

21:00–22:00 — Government email: preliminary approval of the investment, requesting more details. Reply while internally screaming, list all pending items.

22:00–23:00 — Shower + NSDR.

23:30–00:30 — Read work materials, review the day, prepare for tomorrow, mentally simulate how to persuade the director to change her mind… drift off mid-thought.

Magic Requires Imagination

These are my three imagined "ideal" days in 2025: the romantic adventurer, the work-life balancer, the high-impact, high-intensity professional. (It doesn't have to be law — could be shooting non-stop with a film crew for a week, constant flying, or endless live-stream selling. Still exciting in its own chaotic way.)

I've shared these versions with many friends. With this ideal-day blog jam I finally turned them into concrete text — they'll probably evolve again in a few years¹.

For the longest time, I couldn't decide which one I truly wanted… until a friend pointed out:

"Your real ideal life is actually a mix of all three — creating meaningful impact in the world, exploring adventure and joy, while still maintaining work-life balance."

That made so much sense. I'm the ultimate daydreamer, yet I was still being too "practical" by only imagining them separately.

Now the question: is such a hybrid even feasible? Can one life truly incorporate all these exciting elements I'm drawn to?

I'm not sure yet. But as the saying goes: "Have a dream, and hope will follow."

After all, to become a magician, you need powerful imagination first.²

Bonus: An Ideal Day in 2035

Wake up naturally, the sky still dark. Take the dog for a morning run. Suddenly a phone call — the $10B investment from earlier this year just got final approval.

Oh, the call is from Taipei. No wonder it's so early. I'm on annual leave, but I'd told Lia to forward anything related to the investment. Great way to start the day. Just minutes ago, I was still grumbling about whatever broke on the boat yesterday.

I can't wait to share this with H — she'll be thrilled too. Where should we celebrate today?

After the run, back home. Make coffee in the courtyard, soak in the sun, read, jot down notes. H wakes up and joins me. I share the news.

We decide to throw a party two days from now and invite our American PIF friends.

Today, sticking to plan: a simple steak lunch. American steak and ice cream never disappoint.

Afternoon: my own piano room, playing some "noise" at random. I wish I could perform at a bar with my own voice and piano, but I don't practice enough — I'd rather not get booed off. Save it for the party where I can torture friends' ears.

Evening: H makes salmon pasta. As good as ever.

Per annual tradition, H shares his next year's growth plan with me. I tell him about the charity donation that finally went through — feels like our world keeps getting better. Almost too good to be true.

Of course, there's still the annoying stuff. We only winter in Florida, and we were supposed to set sail with the kids this week after their winter camp. Boat broken — slightly grumpy.

Repairing in the US is a pain: technicians are expensive, hard to find. Maybe rent one for now and have someone fix the original later.

After dinner, we curl up on the couch and watch Avatar: The Final Chapter. Released early 2035; I worried about spoilers at first, but ended up not minding. Year-end was the only time to actually watch it. The point is who you watch with, anyway.

Pistachios, chips, milkshake, movie — finally.

After the film, ready to wash up and sleep. Lia reports nothing urgent. Wonderful.

Tomorrow I don't want to deal with the boat either. Maybe just play video games all day.

Back to a Realistic Ideal Day in 2026

Wake up naturally — it's already 8 AM. Lazy time in bed with my partner.

Morning sun, fingers on the keyboard, watching traffic outside. No dog. No kid.

Maybe — before I take responsibility for other lives, I should sort out my own.

A cup of coffee, daydreams, and racing the deadline: I cut the English version and sent the Chinese one out.

Some admin chores still pending at month-end. Q1's almost over and there are still many to-dos undone, KPIs unmet.

Hard not to feel let down, even though rationally I know I gave it what I could.

Maybe — don't rush to chase the imagined ideal day.

Shift my view of the world and what I expect of myself. Care more about process than results. Face the procrastination and avoidance head-on.

Take action to overcome anxiety. Accept life's impermanence and what fate hands me.

Cherish the flexibility I have. Embrace future possibilities without letting uncertainty rattle me.

Maybe — a simple day, even one that doesn't change the outside world, can still be ideal if I take care of myself.

Live each plain-vanilla version of an ideal day well, and along life's road I'll pick up all kinds of magic, and meet kindred spirits.