This Is Where I’m Writing From

I used to blog every day.

I didn’t have a plan, a platform, or anything figured out. I just needed somewhere to put my thoughts before they got overwhelming. Back then, I was on the verge of something huge: I was about to become a dad. I felt excited, terrified, hopeful, and overwhelmed, sometimes all at once.

That blog captured that season. I’ve left it where it is. Not because it was perfect, but because it was honest. It belongs to the person I was then.

This space is for the person I am now.

I’m a dad of four. I’m back in school, studying anthropology, because at some point I realized I still want to understand people, maybe even more than before. I have long-term plans for work, for my kids, and for a life that keeps changing just when I think I understand it. I’m writing a book I once promised myself I would write. I miss streaming—not just the games, but the routine of showing up, unscripted, with friends and strangers.

Along the way, there are adventures. Some are small. Some are loud. Some might look like nothing from the outside but mean everything when you’re living them.

This isn’t a return to daily blogging. It’s something quieter.

Think of this as a journal with the door left open.

I’ll be writing three times a week: Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I’m not doing this because consistency helps with algorithms, but because having a rhythm helps people.

Mondays will be grounded. Parenting. Family. The daily work of showing up.

Wednesdays will be about growth and craft. School. Learning. Writing. The slow work of becoming something over time.

Fridays will look ahead. Long-term plans. Play. Friendship. It’s a reminder that joy and rest aren’t rewards; they’re necessities.

Some posts will be short. Some will wander. Some will answer questions I didn’t even know I was asking when I started writing. That’s okay. That’s the point.

If you’ve been here before, welcome back.
If you’re new, welcome in.

Either way, this is where I’m writing from now.

I am a dad. I’m scared out of my mind. And today, this is where I landed.

Much love. Stay safe. Wash your damn hands.
I’ll see you next time.