Bangkok changed the way I think about cities. In its neon streets, crowded temples, and layered history, I discovered what urban texture truly means—and why some places stay with you long after you leave.
A reflection on my daughter turning 16 and how she continues to grow.
A year of change, road trips, shared meals, and learning to be present. From Yukon highways to meditation cushions, this is what 46 taught me about showing up.
Another year full of challenges, but my daughter survived.
I speculate about Google Me, decentralized networks, private publics, and how Google might reshape identity and sharing online.
I wrestle with unread feeds, Twitter noise, privacy, and the need to step back from the internet so my thoughts can deepen again.
I document my early paleo experiment, cutting grains, eating more fruit, walking daily, and learning how my body reacts to a primal diet.
I review the 2009 Dawson City Music Festival through the journey north, festival paths, local atmosphere, and Yukon music culture.
I expand the Immersion Age idea through tribes, participation, online information flow, and the way connection changes daily life.
I argue for the Immersive Age, where constant information, media, and global connection reshape attention, ambition, and confusion.
I respond to Douglas Rushkoff and question whether business, left politics, idealism, and my own worldview need to be reconsidered.
I write about depression, introversion, the pressure to keep writing, and searching for a brighter way to move into the new year.
I unpack why conservative businesswomen appeal to me despite my left-leaning politics, using The Apprentice as an awkward mirror.
I tell my 2005 version of who I am, from childhood silence and observation to theatre, relationships, politics, and searching for direction.
I describe a lifelong social awkwardness and how the internet became a more comfortable place for identity, friendship, and expression.
I think through trust, secrets, emotional risk, and why sharing hidden thoughts with another person can feel like release.
I reflect on indigo adults, energy, healing, sexuality, and the uneasy search for peace with who I am becoming.
I write a poem about the relentless machine in my mind, where noise, darkness, and pain keep grinding without slowing down.
I collect unfinished thoughts about progress, idealism, corruption, human potential, and why I still want a better world.