Anywhere

It's early morning on New Year's Eve. I'm sitting at a crowded table of markers and drawing pens with two laptops set up to play Minecraft and Jurassic World Evolution 2. The second one is a surprise for Salem who is still sleeping. He was up late last night. I have about two more cups of coffee before the reality of responsibilities kicks in.

I value these moments and I've taught myself to not feel bad for taking time to myself. I don't get a lot of it. Yet, when I do have free time, I find myself sometimes thinking about people I knew a long time ago. Every so often I feel adventurous enough to reach out to someone either by Facebook message or a long email. A few days ago I wrote a very old friend who has yet to write back.

I suppose it's time to make a resolution for the new year, but I'm already a gym rat who eats consciously. I have the job of my dreams and it is starting to pay pretty well, which is great. Maybe I'll just go on being thankful for this year in the same way I'm thankful for each and every day. I still find it unwise to pass up a chance for any sort of personal growth, so here is my resolution: I'm going to find a way to make my family international again. Perhaps it will take more than a year, but I'm going to begin focusing on adventure again. It's not fair to my son to hide my past from him. 

Here I am, looking out a snowy window and letting the coffee reach my brain. Whatever the next year brings, I'm just happy to be anywhere.

12/27/2025

Awake and caffeinated. Already been to the gym. Back home and everyone is still asleep. Erykah Badu plays softly from my phone next to me. My cat chews on the side of my laptop. Winter boredom; I have a hard time relaxing. Short hair sucks. I need a new tattoo. I'm happy that I'm drawing again. Everything is interesting and important. 

Dream Machine

I've invented a dream machine, at least that's what I like to call it. Every morning like clockwork, I wake up sometime after 4 AM and drag my blanket to the couch where I'm greeted by a small square pillow and a second that is moon-shaped. Within seconds I'm back asleep in a wildly vivid dream world, and I do this every single day.

Some people have a hard time seeing clear images in their heads while others can see things clear as day. I happen to be one of those who can't really see much beyond eyelid goo, but there is hope. For whatever reason, the part of your brain that delivers brain juice to your consciousness is a different part than that which controls inner mind visualization. So, for people like me who rely on what I call a filing cabinet of information rather than a slide show, dreams have become that much more important.

Ornament

Today you cried when you saw your picture. It was a gift given to you by your teacher in the form of an ornament for our Christmas tree decorated with a photo of you wearing a Santa hat and holding a string of flickering lights. There is a cozy winter scene behind you with a gingerbread house and lots of snow. It really got to you for some reason when we were opening presents today, and I didn't want the entire day to pass without writing that somewhere. The very act of putting those thoughts into words is comforting.

I've been trying to get my inspiration back, the kind that I once invested in art and music. There is no doubt that I've converted much of that energy into parenting, but I'm finding myself once again in a place where I begin to fidget at night if I haven't created something during that day. Today I drew three or four cartoonish video game characters, and it doesn't matter how much personal touch I put into them, I just needed to feel a marker carry itself across paper.

For a short while I was beginning to grow afraid of something I could not control. I caught myself doing that thing where I anxiously pace from room to room of my small house. I get caught up in a thought or lost in a pattern of temporary interest and distraction and suddenly I begin to feel bad like I'm wasting my time. Somehow writing this down allows me to zoom out a bit and whenever I take a moment to do that, I catch a glimpse of realization that I'm probably just misfiring from being so hyper-focused on my duties as a father, husband, etc. 

Yet, I feel a certain sense of concentration coming over me tonight that I haven't felt in a long time. Watching you see yourself in a photo of holiday job and feeling those emotions you felt face to face made me realize that it's time I see my own photo for the beauty I've created. 

I love art. I love this spectacular painting we are making together, my beautiful son.

UASLP Fall 2025

UANL BUS304

The Threshold

It's earlier this morning than usual. I'm laying on the couch in the living room, sorting through sativa-induced thoughts, wondering how on Earth I'm ever going to get back into music and art. I feel so far away.

Two weeks ago I cut off all my hair, and just yesterday I shaved my face clean. People look at me like they are upset, and older people will always point out how grey I've become. In some ways I thought I was going to be sad about how I look these days, but it's nice to blend in a bit. My neighbor told me that I look like I'm wearing a disguise. I like that. 

So, while I put in a few months of growing out my hair and never shaving my face clean, I'm finding that perhaps I was reaching out for the 'reset' button, and perhaps also I need to stare at the loading screen for a while. I think my system needed to be shut down and restarted. Maybe I missed an update somewhere. F@cking drivers; they get me every time!

My life belongs to my son now, and I'm trying to stay focused on that. I'm trying also to stay present, but it's harder than it sounds. Staying present means being a better listener and eating slower. It means entering a room with a purpose and committing to not thinking about unfinished business in the room you just left. 

I sometimes wonder if there would ever be a point in my life when I'm so far away from the person I used to be that they become a storybook character I'm only learning about from old pictures and conversations. I might be pretty close to that. However, I believe in valuing the importance of thresholds. I believe that the lesson to be learned will sometimes be so glaringly obvious that it blinds you when you crossover. It's right there in your face, the painful truth, and it always comes with wisdom as long as you can relax your eyelids enough to let it in. 

It feels good to write about it. I'm somehow less worried about it only twenty minutes after loudly clicking on this keyboard, a little too much for early morning ambience. The moon was beautiful last night and it probably came up loudly over the water. I didn't see it though. I glimpsed it from my window, but I didn't drive down to the lake to see it. I should start doing that. It's right there.

It's right there. Somehow that seems so relative. The beautiful glowing mystery is silently peaking her bright eyes through the trees, through the clouds, and I'm pretending I'm too cool to notice. 

A Note to my Son Before We Go

Today your mother and I have been married for six years. You're staying with your grandparents tonight, and we're eating ice cream at home. That's just how it is, but I'm sure you're getting your fill with Uncle Jimmy. So, here we are son. Only one full week before we head off to Yellowstone. You just finished school last week, and we had a really cool party for you with your teachers and your classmates. I could only wonder if you'll remember these cute times. You see, today I also went to Aidan's graduation party. There was a lot going on today. Aidan is my best friend's son and I remember him clearly when he was just your age. So, that makes me realize that you are not going to be this age forever, but I wouldn't freeze time if I could. You have a lot coming up, my beautiful boy. Just remember to be thankful for where you are on your path and always be considerate to those who are just beginning theirs. I love you, Salem. Dad

Onward Again

Check back with me in one week. 

I have a feeling something cool is coming up.

Earth Berry Apothecary

I feel my connection to this blog taking a bit of a timeout.

Please enjoy the beauty that is Earth Berry Apothecary, our humble family business.

www.earthberryapothecary.com

Wyoming

This year we will drive to Wyoming. I had to write that somewhere.

Boy, I hate when you're gone

Boy, I hate when you're gone. I write this as if somehow you're going to stumble upon it and somehow feel me on this, but I feel terrible when you're far away from me. You're spending a few nights with your grandparents on both sides, and then on Monday you'll begin school. It's Pre-K, and it's kind of a big deal because you've never been away so long every day of the week. It's kind of killing me, and I feel like I have to hide it for some reason. Mom is really sad about it, and we're just trying to see the positive side of these changes. I just needed to write that somewhere because this is a lot harder for me than I typically care to admit. Something about you being in school for so long ties together the entirety of schooling in my mind, and all of a sudden I can see so many of the chapters laid out for our family. Until now it was such a mystery. 

Matoya's Cave

In Final Fantasy 1, there is this iconic moment when you first enter Matoya's Cave just to the north of Cornelia. You'd know this if you were a dork like me, but you'd also know that the music in that cave is absolutely enchanting for some reason.

That music captured me good last summer when my family and I were staying in Washington just outside of Seattle. I was toting around a couple of ocarinas that had been the objects of my new fascination at the time, and I managed to slowly figure out how to play the music from Matoya's Cave. 

The song just spoke to me. It still does. Songs are magic like that, and when you learn to recreate them you learn how to perform real magic. For me, I have always felt that music sends me back to other times, often many different timelines at once. I can feel the passing of history between the time I first hear a song and the present when I can recreate it the moment I pick up an instrument.

I'd like to make a song like that someday. 

Liminal (part 2)

According to my memories on social media, I get the exact same way every year. I even take on the same fascination with boldly heading out west. My posts on here from the past would probably show this all to be true as well. It's probably cabin fever, or a lull in creativity that comes naturally with the contemplative phase of winter. The days hit their shortest point not long ago, and the season will only get brighter.

I have some reflection to do.

I'm sure this is somewhat normal, but I often get caught up in the mathematics of how long it's been between chapters of my life. Next year will mark the tenth anniversary of my departure from Istanbul, and yet I haven't gotten around to changing it as my hometown in my profile for this blog. It's just that much a part of me, and it's pleasures are a delicate treat I can only share with a small handful of people who wrote the pages of that chapter together. 

The whispers are real. 

The cat-like visits I have from the spirts of inspiration are frequent these days, and I'm hesitant to immediately believe I only feel the way I do because of the lonely nature of this gloomy season. Of course some of that is true, and my presence in this part of the world is due only to family that I could not separate from their only grandchild. I say that proudly and with love in my heart, yet I would be lying if I said it didn't come with a bit of personal sacrifice. 

Liminal

Today is the first day of the year. 

I'm creatively a pile of dust and ash.

Deeply seeking inspiration in a world of grey that is not cold enough for snow to stick.