Journal

I was driving near my house when I turned past a corner and asked my wife, "Has that pole always been there?" She didn't even hesitate. "Always. Well, since we moved here."

And I thought about The Truman Show.

Noticing the Cracks

If you haven't seen it, the movie follows a man who slowly realizes his entire life has been staged for television. Despite how carefully the world was built, cracks start to show. A light falls from the sky. He notices people around him anticipating his reactions, as if the world really does revolve around him.

That noticing changes everything.

Once Truman starts to see past the edges of what he thought was real, he can't stop. He questions. He experiments. He pushes. He's not just living in the world handed to him anymore—he's searching for the one beyond it.

Past the Fringe

I think about that a lot. How easy it is to move through life on autopilot. Same drive, same walk, same routine. But every once in a while something breaks through. A pole you somehow never saw. A mural on a wall. The way light falls on mid-afternoon grass.

Those are Truman moments.

Little reminders that there's always more to notice, more to try, more to experience.

Every day I wake up, I want to carry a bit of that with me. Noticing. Asking questions. Testing the edges of the world I've grown comfortable in.

Sometimes all it takes is noticing one thing you've been passing by to see how much else has been hiding in plain sight.

And that's enough to keep me looking.

It's been awhile since I've written here. Long enough that I started to wonder if I'd ever come back to this (blogging).

Life filled up. Work, kids, projects, distractions-a-plenty; stacking until writing slides further down the list. I'd open a blank page, stare at it, then close it again.

And yeah, I've written plenty elsewhere. Social platforms, group chats, quick-fire spots where everyone drops their thoughts these days. They work, but it never feels the same. Too fleeting. Too crowded. Too much ownership by others. Whereas writing here feels different, like putting words back where they belong.

In fact, it reminds me of the early 2000s, when blogging was everywhere and people were sharing just about anything. Sometimes polished, sometimes messy. But it was all out there, and that openness mattered.

So here I am again. No big declarations, no "content strategy", no promises of daily posts. Just... back. Writing when I can, how I can.

What you'll get here is what you've always gotten: pieces of life, half-thoughts, stories I don't want to lose, things that I'm still working out in real-time. Some will be short. Some long. Some will ramble and some will only make sense to me and that's more than okay.

Comments aren't working here yet, so if you feel like responding, we'll end up doing the ironic thing and take that back to the social platform.

P.S. If you're reading this, thanks for showing up. Feels good to show up again, too.