• Diary

    On My Horizon

    Today marks a turning point in my life, on my horizon is a moment that feels both liberating and profound. After years of carrying the weight of my past, encapsulated in the worn pages of my old diary, I’ve made a decision that feels like a bold step into a new chapter. My diary, filled with painful memories and trauma from both my job and personal life, has been my silent companion through the darkest of times. Yet, today, I decided to let it go, to release the hold it has had on me. In a symbolic gesture of moving forward, I chose to burn my old diary. The decision…

  • Diary

    Difference Has Been A Constant Companion

    This morning, after yet another restless night filled with tangled dreams and half-formed thoughts, I found myself lying awake, staring at the ceiling. It’s become a ritual of sorts, a quiet moment before the dawn, where I turn inward and ponder over the adventure that has been my life. It’s been a journey akin to an errant beam of heat seeking out a distant star, always flickering, always different from the paths taken by those around me. As I lay there, the gentle sound of rain against my window seeped into my consciousness. The rain, with its persistent, misunderstood droplets, seemed to echo the feelings I’ve harbored for much of…

  • Writing

    Embracing Uniqueness

    This morning, as I looked out my bedroom window, a wash of early sunlight coming through the trees, a thought struck me—a thought so compelling, I knew I had to write it all down. Belonging, or more accurately, the lack thereof. In my case, it is the perpetual struggle to do so. Throughout my life, the scrutiny seemed endless. People often questioned everything about me, delving into aspects of my existence that were both personal and, frankly, none of their business. They questioned my sexuality, as if it were a puzzle for them to solve, not a facet of my identity. They doubted my intelligence, undermining my thoughts and contributions…

  • Diary

    Reflections Of A Solitary Soul

    I have always believed that I came into this world alone, a solitary figure marked in constellation. This belief is not born of loneliness but of a profound understanding that, when stripped of all else, my essence remains unaltered, steadfast through the seasons of life. It’s a thought that comforts me in moments of solitude, a reminder that my presence in this world is defined not by the people around me but by the strength within me. My approach to life and work has always been one of profound dedication. When I commit to a task, I pour my heart and soul into it, much like midnight machines that work…

  • Quotes

    Thomas Slatin, On Love Versus A Soulful Connection

    I’ve heard numerous people express their love for me, and it’s sparked some reflection. When someone bares their soul to you in such a heartfelt manner, it’s almost instinctual to feel a profound connection with them. I see this not so much as love in the traditional sense, but as one of the purest forms of human connection—embracing another’s soul. It feels very much like love. Thomas Slatin

  • Writing

    Writing, Photography, And My Life With Amelia

    As I sit here, my fingers poised over the keyboard, I can’t help but feel a wave of exhilaration mixed with a hint of disbelief. Today marks the beginning of a new chapter in my life, one that is entirely dedicated to my deepest passions: writing, photography, and my beautiful relationship with Amelia. For years, I found myself juggling the demands of a conventional career with my innate desire to create. My days were filled with tasks and responsibilities that, while vitally important, didn’t ignite the spark within me. Each evening, as I sat down to write or sifted through photos from my latest adventure, I felt a surge of…

  • Writing

    The Bittersweet Feelings Of Letting Go

    As I stand at the threshold of the house where I grew up, a flood of emotions washes over me. This quaint, familiar space, with its creaky wooden floors and sun-dappled windows, has been more than just a building; it’s been a silent witness to my life’s journey. From the echoes of laughter that danced in the hallways to the silent tears shed in the quiet of my room, every corner of this house is steeped in memories. Selling my childhood home feels like closing a cherished book filled with colorful chapters. There’s a sweet nostalgia in remembering the blissful days of childhood, the warmth of family gatherings, and the…

  • Diary

    We Simplify Our Journey To Make It Understandable

    As I sit here this January, I can’t help but think about the past ten years. It’s incredible to consider how much time has passed and how far I’ve come. Ten years, a whole decade, feels like a lifetime in human years. It’s long enough to transform completely, to shed skins and emerge anew. But it’s also just enough time to realize how quickly moments can blend into one another, how easily the days can slip through our fingers like grains of sand. Ten years ago, I was a very different person. I was at the south end of my career, feeling stagnated and unfulfilled. Professionally, I had hit a…

  • crop businessman signing contract in office
    Cornerstone Content,  Diary

    Of Cakes And Conspiracies

    The knife used to cut the cake of celebration is the same one that inevitably gets used to stab one in the back, is an idea that recently came to me, harsh as a proverb, and laced with the kind of wisdom that is usually earned through a painful sequence of experiences. It wasn’t until the undulating waves of life had crashed upon my shores a few more times that I truly understood its depth, its reality, and its almost predestined inevitability. I recall the early days of my ambitious youth, days colored with the hues of success and nights scented with the fragrance of victory. Those were the times…

  • Writing

    Car Ads: Where Reality Takes A Backseat!

    I once strutted into a car dealership in Albany, New York, fancying myself the next Ansel Adams of automobile photography. I had my camera slung over one shoulder, my portfolio bursting with shots of shiny hubcaps and dramatic rearview mirror reflections, and a confident glint in my eye. But the hiring manager took one look at my resume, pushed up his glasses, and said, “I see you’ve captured the essence of a ’67 Mustang in the golden hour, but where’s your college degree?” I was flabbergasted. Who knew you needed a diploma to snap a picture of a gently used sedan? If you’re like me, you’ve probably sat on your…