Shawn and I having a sunset drink at Potato Head in Bali, Indonesia
You’re always you, and that don’t change, and you’re always changing, and there’s nothing you can do about it.
— Neil Gaiman

I hate writing this shit.

It’s hard to write because I always figured I’ll take myself to the grave in the most literal sense - my brain, my mind, me. I’ve spent a good thirty odd years trying to keep myself private and only letting the surface bits touch the world. I was happy with that and I think I still am. But it’s a comfort zone. And comfort zones are the scariest things in the world.

For the first few years of my working career I chased dreams and passions, but I abandoned them to hobbies when I realised that while it put food (not as much as I would've liked) on the table, I wasn’t that person whose dreams (acting? Opening a café?) and passions (photography) made me whole. I wanted conflict, the unknown, to learn something else, be somebody else. That realisation took me on a tangent of a journey, and I achieved things younger me never thought I would. 

But then I quickly hit a plateau (mid-life crisis). When I stepped out of that shining light for a minute I realised that oh dear, I’d been living in a comfort zone I created, one that I felt trapped in, and was very happy with. I was doing great, probably had a few more years of wonderful things I could do, but I wasn’t growing anymore in the way that younger me hungered after. I’d stopped being challenged, and I'd stopped challenging myself.

Somewhere during that time I got attracted to doing things the easy way, the popular way, gotten comfortable with a known set of rules. A rat race keeps you focused, but it doesn’t really evolve you. A part of me forgot how to travel, how to photograph, how to feel the world like I used to and make memories for me, not for anyone else. I had grown tired and angry, prone to stress and fatigue of imagination. When I quit my last job where I'd been for four years, it was a breath of fresh air. I suddenly felt released from a stereotype, a character that I'd moulded myself into so I could make the days seem meaningful. My journey up to that point taught me a lot of things, but it was time to end and evolve. 

This site came into being somewhere during that period after, a short sabbatical of my trying to find my feet again. This isn't so much a travel blog, or food blog, or however you categorise it. It’s a recovery process, a slow introspective performance art piece I’m using to unlock my thoughts, perhaps record the shifting sands of my person as it changes to become something else again. Sometimes called growing up.

Nine Two Six are my life path, destiny and character numerology numbers.

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