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I hadn’t even left San Jose yet, and I’d already managed to destroy the sink. That’s right—my grand two-year road trip began with a bang, or at least with a suspicious chemical fizz. Here’s the thing: The sink looked sturdy enough. Gray. Shiny. Innocent. But,

I’m not the type to leap headfirst into claims about interdimensional portals or cosmic vibrations. At least, I wasn’t back then. These days, my beliefs hover much closer to just north of woo-woo.

Pro tip from someone who’s lived to tell the tale: If you have the chance, just don’t back up at all. Drive through, pull forward, do whatever it takes. Because backing up is a last resort—a move reserved for people who are either very confident or have no other options.

I saw a man get punched once — a perfect hook to the cheek on a bone-cold morning near the McCormick Center in Chicago.

I became wild. Then I became wise. Resilience crept up on me, originally disguised as arrogance, though it wasn’t about feeling superior to anyone — it was about knowing, with certainty, that I stood alone.

The torx screw  was invented to solve a problem that was plaguing the world: screws that, heaven forbid, actually slip out when you try to tighten them. Also because the world needed a screw that looked like a mini ninja star.