A Civil Engineer, a Father, a Work-in-Progress.

I spent years learning how to design things that don't fall down — structures that account for load, stress, and the slow wear of time. Nobody teaches you the equivalent for a life. You just start building, mid-air, and hope the foundation holds.

Fatherhood changed the math. Somewhere between sleepless nights and a kid who now argues his bedtime like a courtroom lawyer, I realized most of what I actually needed to know — about patience, about failure, about showing up — wasn't in any engineering textbook. It was in the small, unphotographed moments. The ones that don't make it to a highlight reel.

So I started writing them down. Not to teach anyone anything — I'm not qualified for that — but because naming a thing honestly is often the only way to actually understand it. That's what this space became: a record of raising a son, chasing a second act alongside a full-time career, the travels that shifted something in me, and the slower, quieter work of staying steady through all of it.

I don't have this figured out. That's sort of the point.