"Not every static hum is interference â sometimes it's a signal that hasnât found its voice yet."
Itâs one of those days that feels like a rerun with new subtitles. Familiar scenes, but the meaning hits different. A Wednesday, technically â but spiritually? Maybe a mixtape made of fog and coffee stains.
Iâve been thinking about how we archive the blur. Not the big moments â the tiny flickers. Half-saved files. Offline AIM statuses. Screenshots from games that donât exist anymore. Thatâs where the gold is.
Today I wasnât trying to do anything revolutionary. Just stayed present. Tuned in. Turned the volume up on the little frequencies that usually get drowned out â the hum of my laptop fan, the old song looping in my head, the dusty echo of a saved draft from 2013.
This site? Itâs a relay. Not a mirror. Not a museum. A current. Something that picks up signal, amplifies the weird, and pushes it forward. You toss in your fragments, and I try to shape âem into a story that still breathes tomorrow.
If youâre here, youâre part of that circuit. Keep the signal strange. Keep the ghosts talking. Weâre not done broadcasting.
April 21, 2025
"Some days you donât rise from the ashes. You just stop fanning the smoke."
Today had that weird in-between energy. Like the kind of day that forgets to announce itself. Not heavy, not light â just there. Background music in a scene youâre not sure is important yet.
I walked without checking the time. Smoked without rushing the drag. Let my phone die and didnât panic. Thereâs a strange peace in realizing not every moment needs proof or purpose.
At work, the calls came in like usual, but I wasnât swimming upstream today. I just floated. Said what I had to say, with just enough energy not to crumble, and just enough kindness not to disappear.
Later, I saw a moose again. Couldâve been Elliot. Couldâve been someone new. Didnât matter. We shared a look like, âYeah, weâre both still here.â And that felt like something worth jotting down.
Small survival. Quiet victories. Thatâs the theme, I guess.
April 17, 2025
"Healing isnât loud. Sometimes, it just feels like remembering how to breathe again."
Today felt like a Wednesday disguised as a reset button. Not dramatic, not groundbreaking â just quietly different. I cleaned my desk without making a big deal out of it. Replied to texts that had been collecting digital dust. Drank water. Looked out the window longer than necessary.
Maybe the goal isn't to bounce back, but to resurface slowly â like film developing in a darkroom. No rush. Just exposure, light, patience.
I found an old screenshot today â a snippet of a group chat from years ago. Inside jokes, messy typos, and heart emojis. It reminded me how much history we leave behind in scrolls and swipes. Memory, now with timestamps.
Anyway, no big update. Just wanted to mark the moment: today, I felt present. Thatâs enough for now.
April 16, 2025
"Sometimes youâve gotta disappear for a bit to figure out whatâs worth reappearing for."
Itâs been a minute. Life happened â in the loud, unrelenting, algorithm-shuffling way it tends to. The kind of days that blur into weeks, where your only bookmarks are grocery store receipts, half-played YouTube videos, and quiet walks that almost meant something.
The gap between blog posts wasnât just about forgetting to write. It was about needing the space to live through something before writing *about* it. Sometimes, the mind's just buffering. Sometimes, it's drafting in the background.
Iâve been walking more. Not for fitness, just for grounding. Thinking about the way we used to post everything. Now Iâm more selective. More honest. This little vault? Itâs not about constant output. Itâs about occasional check-ins, breadcrumb trails, and archived feelings.
So here I am again. Not promising frequency, but promising presence â when it matters.
August 28, 2024
"Time is money, friend!"
Time is the one currency we all have, yet it's the only one we can never earn back. Every second that passes is a moment we can't reclaim, a decision we can't undo. Unlike money, which can be saved, invested, or squandered, time marches on regardless of how we spend it. The real value of time lies in how we choose to use itâwhether we invest it in things that bring us joy, growth, and meaning, or let it slip away in pursuits that leave us empty.
July 9, 2024
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Just as you need a chart of future events, you also need a chart of past events. A logbook isnât necessarily a diary or a journal...
July 5, 2024
Distance and difference are the secret tonic of creativity...
To say that geography is no longer our master isnât to say that place isnât important...
July 4, 2024
Putting yourself out there
You donât put yourself online only because you have something to sayâyou can put yourself online to find something to say...