Status: Single
Zodiac: Cancer
Favorite Food: Sushi
Favorite Drink: Gin & Tonic, Flammin' Dr. Pepper, Jack Daniels
Favorite Color: Silver
Favorite Designers: Versace, The Original Penguin, Robert Graham, Ben Sherman, Dagr, Krush, Color Siete, 4 You, Calvin Klein, Division E., Kenneth Cole, DKNY, Banana Republic, Hugo Boss, RARE, French Connection, English Laundry
Favorite Fragrances: Gucci - Envy, Lacoste - Red Style In Play, Versace - Man Eau Fraiche, Davidoff - Echo
Grooming Brand: American Crew, Origins, KMS, Di-Fi
Hates: Bush, Michael Savage, Assholes, Apple Bees, Nature
Loves: Dancing, Madonna, Britney Spears, Surprises, Dorks, Art
Drives: 2005 Honda Civic LX

Back To Where We Started
Dad immigrated to the United States illegally. The Catholic community sponsored Mother, Grandma, Aunt and Uncle to the United States. Mom and Dad met in Phoenix, Arizona in 1985 and Mother gave birth to me in 1986. Although, from what the family told me, I wasn’t supposed to be alive. My mother had complications giving birth to me. The doctor told my dad that there was a possibility that the baby would not make it. The doctor then transferred my mother on helicopter to another hospital and they were able to save me. Because of this, Grandma named me Phuoc, which means Lucky in Vietnamese.

My family was poor. I grew up in a no-bedroom house where Mother had to use a curtain and some nails to separate where we live and where we sleep. I never had a crib. Dad, Mother and I slept on one bed. We all spoke very little English; Vietnamese was my first language. I grew up in a very traditional Asian culture. My parents were strict and I did not get along with my parents very well even at such a young age, especially my dad.

At The Age of Three
I was gifted with a very sharp memory. I remember the yesteryears as if it were yesterday. My grandma, aunt and uncle practically raised me for the first five years of my life. At the age of three years old, I was destined to carry the weight of the world on my shoulder. Uncle and I would often play Nintendo or watch wrestling. One hot summer day, we decided to watch wrestling. I was sitting on the floor playing with my Ninja Turtle coin saver; Uncle was sitting on our hand-me-down couch and Grandma to the right of him. I recall Grandma going on about “Ay! I don’t understand why Americans must participate in such cruel activities. You should not encourage your young nephew to watch such things…” while Uncle keeps on turning up the volume. As I was playing with my coin saver and glancing at the T.V., my eyes were fixed on the muscular, sweat dripping wrestlers as my heart started to pound and I was overcome with euphoria. I could not identify what that feeling was at the age of three, but I knew what I was feeling was ‘different’.

Something Wonderful
I was forced to understand adaptation as early as preschool. I was in an environment where kids and teacher spoke a language that I could not comprehend. When the teacher asked us to take our seats, I went over to the playhouse and played. For the longest time, my teacher would phone my father to inform him how defiant I was. As with any traditional Asian parent, I was brutally physically punished for bringing such dishonor to the family. I recall sitting in the cafeteria for the longest time, starring at my lunch, wondering if they will ever serve rice. I would go hungry during lunch every single day. I remember passing out once because I was not used to such food that the school was serving.

We tend to struggle when we are forced to adapt, but it’s amazing how much we can endure even through the most trialing times. After a long meeting between my teacher and Dad, they came to an understanding that we have a language and culture barrier. She also brought the attention to Dad that my name is being pronounced inappropriately at school. At that time, Bill Clinton was all over the news. My father spoke very little English, so he figured Bill would be an easy name to spell, pronounce and remember, especially for the family. My name was then legally changed to Bill, but Grandma will always know me as Phuoc. 1991 was also the year that my brother was born.

After many one on one tutoring with the teacher and me, my English skills soared. Because of my comprehension, my behavior in a classroom setting has dramatically improved. I was no longer hungry during lunch. I have learned to adapt and even embrace the American culture. Before the school year ended, my parents decided to move to Fresno to embark on business ventures so that they can provide a better life for my brother and me. The day that Dad and I walked down the hall to bid farewell to my teacher burnt a bittersweet photograph into my memory. She shed tears, telling Dad that I became the best student she ever had. She leaned down to my eye level and smiled at me “You will become something wonderful some day.”

Leaving and Left Behind
Fresno was a time and place of carelessness and innocence. I went to Fremont Elementary School. I hung out with the popular kids and had my first girlfriend in first grade. Stephanie Irwin was her name. Our first grade teacher, Ms. Salazar, always laughed and reminded us that we don’t really know what love is. We both were convinced that we were, strolling the playground, hand-in-hand and singing Barney songs. Stephanie moved away and for the first time I got familiar with the feeling of being left behind.

I grew up with my cousins Don and Phi. We traveled an unholy path and committed shameful deeds. We dominated the streets of Fresno as gang members while our parents were too caught up with work to even notice. However, the more I grew, the more I yearned for another life.

Glamorous Life
As I yearned for another life, the Higher Power must have envisioned glamour and fame for me. We moved to Monterey to once again embark on a better life. My parents worked very hard and were able to afford a more than comfortable life for my brother and me. My brother was too young to remember what we struggled through to get where we are, but I remember.

In 1999, I entered the world of performing arts and begun my training as a professional dancer. I danced at the Off Broadway Dance Center in NYC and then Millennium Dance Studios thereafter. Even at such an early age, I was very meticulous to detail and instructions. My ability to quickly learn choreographies and apply unprecedented personality to my routines, I was crowned top ten (and youngest) dancer of my workshop.

My Dad’s mother became very ill and had a stroke. She was staying with my Uncle in Sacramento at the time. We then moved to Sacramento to be closer to Grandmother. We bought a house in Elk Grove, that same year Dad retired at age forty, that marking the end of my parents’ business ventures and launched an epic of mine.

In high school, one of my good friends turned me on to industrial designing. At the age of fifteen, I asked Dad to fund my own firm so that I could follow in his footsteps. Dad was doubtful, but after writing up a spectacular business plan with the family lawyer, Dad granted me my own firm. Non-Stop Productions targeted the entertainment industry and offered effective solutions which in ways inadvertently earned me celebrity status.

While running the firm, press photos of me got into the hand of some modeling agencies which launch my career in modeling. Modeling was short lived, but I had a fashion spread and graced the pages of Laurent Martinez and attended fashion week in Milan in 2000.

In 2001, I critically injured my back during dance rehearsal. I was doing a back bend when my right leg slipped forward and the weight shifted to my upper body, therefore breaking my back. All I remember was the dance studio faded dark and I woke up in a hospital. My dancing and modeling career ended as I began my six years of physical therapy recovery.

Pivotal Moment
One day, Dad and I got into a fight. I hated the life I was living. I wanted to be loved by my parents so much, but nothing is ever enough. Dad gave me an ultimatum: “If you don’t like it then leave”.

I was seeing a boy named Jeremy that lived up in Yosemite at that time. At first, I told him that it’s best that we stay friends since I’m busy with my career and that we’re three hours apart from each other. Eventually, he was persistent enough to visit me every week on his days off. I fell in love with him.

With the fight that Dad and I had, I decided to leave my world behind so that Jeremy and I could create a world of our own. I left my career, fortune, and family. I walked out empty handed and moved to Yosemite to be with Jeremy.

Unfaithful
Life was rough for me in Yosemite. Being the city boy that I am, I was not used to living in nature. But everyday, step by step, I did all I could to make it work for the both of us. Eventually, our relationship deteriorated and nothing that I could do would preserve what was good. After three betrayals, three attempts to make things work; I died a million times over. It was time to let go and return to what I knew best. I was lucky to find a good job at Verizon Wireless and moved back to Sacramento.

Fighter
Days turned into weeks, weeks to months, and months to years. I've endured more heartbreak, made more mistakes, lost more money, taken more than a few steps back on career, and played the victim in more failed relationships. I stand here satisfied to know that I've matured and blossomed, am accountable for my decisions and actions, stand true to my convictions, honest in my intentions, unconditionally sacrificed. And still... I'm a fighter.