Influenced by Robert Frost and Mary Oliver
Two roads diverged in the digital wood, and I—I took the one with code, where logic meets the soul's own good, where algorithms bear their load.
The other path, well-worn and wide, promised comfort, steady pay. But something deeper pulled inside—to build, to create, to find my way.
And having chosen thus, I stand with callused fingers, weary eyes, yet knowing in my heart and hand, the builder's path—it never lies.
There is something sacred about creating from nothing. The blank screen, the blinking cursor—they are invitations, not obstacles. Every line of code is a small act of faith, a belief that what we build can matter.
I've learned that building is not just about the final product. It's about the practice itself. The daily discipline of showing up, of wrestling with problems that have no easy answers, of finding elegance in complexity. The process shapes us as much as the outcome.
Robert Frost understood the weight of choices. Mary Oliver taught us to pay attention. In building, I've found both—the constant choosing, the deep attention to detail. Code is poetry with a compiler. Both demand precision. Both reward clarity. Both ask us to say exactly what we mean, nothing more, nothing less.
Bodies in motion tend to stay in motion. This is physics, but it's also philosophy. When I run, when I play basketball, when I hike through Arizona trails—I'm not escaping from work. I'm fueling it. The body carries the mind further than the mind can carry itself.
Creative momentum works the same way. Start moving, even if you don't know where you're going. The direction reveals itself in the doing. Stillness has its place—for rest, for reflection. But creation lives in motion. Build something. Ship something. Move.
This is a living collection. More poetry, reflections, and short writings coming as I create them.