It has changed the game.

A haiku. A mistake. An age-old pattern.

Oxygen is somehow crisper and slips into the lungs with ease.

This reflected a deeper tendency of mine: I am incredibly self-impatient.

I sat down with a family friend for lunch today.

Writing an original piece of content every day never got easy.

I notice that every time I interact with a song on an instrument, the words come across differently.

Nothing is a better depiction of what’s happening inside my head than my “suggested for you” lineup of videos on YouTube.

Adulthood is full of doing a lot of funny tasks I didn’t realize I didn’t know how to do until I came to them.

I see people pigeon-holing and making loved ones into formulas with these personality tests.

“Why waste time say lot word, when few word do trick?”

One YouTube search in, I realized I knew nothing.

This week I started playing my baritone ukulele again.

How I set the stage for a good night’s rest.

Grandma here is finally accepting it: I guess technology isn't as evil as I thought.

I don’t really like taking photos. And I’ve tried to like it.

I put something on paper because I needed to put something on paper.

Piecing together arrival times, budget, drive time, and lodging—I find it all deeply satisfying.

Pour me a cup of terrible gray-colored coffee and slide me a menu.

Holding my breath must’ve begun somewhere and for some reason.