How Long Will We Swallow the Lie?
The myths we cling to now are manufactured in boardrooms and back rooms, polished for our consumption, meant to distract, to pacify, to give us something to hope for, or rage against, or buy.
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424. I Named The Site After a Number. Here’s Why.
The 424 became a small act of defiance against a world that demands constant explanation. A reminder that some of the most important choices we make don’t come from logic or plans, but from a quiet tug at the edge of awareness.
The Last Goodbye
How Leonard Cohen, Jeff Buckley, and Louis Tomlinson Speak the Same Language
They Called Him Difficult
Heartbeat
They Called Him a Lover-Part 1
Not the polished, pretty boy who sent flowers and said the right thing at the right time. No—he was the kind who stayed when he shouldn’t have. Who forgave the silence. Who kept showing up, hoping she'd eventually meet him halfway.
424. I Named The Site After a Number. Here’s Why.
Rewritten
The Last Goodbye
The Day I Asked Google If Gay Dragons Could Get Pregnant
Galaxy and Other Bad Influences
Fast, Fluffy, and Furious
Pulse
They Called Him a Lover Part 2
Some didn’t see him. Not really. Not in the quiet way he touched his shoulder mid-sentence, or how his voice dropped when they were alone, like love had weight and he didn’t want to break it.
They Called Him a Savior
We Could’ve Been Something
Some Songs Don’t End.
They Called Him Difficult
Road Noise
Road Noise
For two years, I wandered the U.S. with no clue what I was doing. I took work calls from a hot spring, made friends with hippies named Moon and one dog who saw right through me. I also ate beans in six different states while crying—but that's advanced content we'll cover in Chapter 9.
New Era Begins
The Cat, the Bulb, and the Boldness of Being Weird
People in Parking Lots
The Great Sink Meltdown
Frequencies And Cosmic Subtitles
Things to Avoid: Backing Up While Towing A Trailer
Jetlag
Bugs on Tape
It began innocently enough. The inch-long millipedes that crisscrossed the bathroom floor were oddly entertaining at first. I’d brush my teeth and watch them march in neat rows to, well, I don’t know where they were going.
OMG - The Cleaner Ants of Costa Rica!
Bugs, Scorpions & the Existential Spider: A Love Letter to Costa Rica
Where the Roads Have No Names, Only Reputations
The Oracle of Salerno
Lessons from a Hike in Costa Rica
