Before I even stepped onto campus, I had a clear picture of what university would require: focus, discipline, and caution. My parents had lived through challenges that showed the cost of influence, and their guidance stayed with me. I internalized it deeply. Their warnings weren’t paranoia — they were lessons from experience — and I tried to take them seriously.

I’ve spent the last few entries talking about the creative world — how noisy it can be, how influence works, how easy it is to lose your voice in the middle of it all. But I haven’t properly introduced myself to anyone who might be arriving here for the first time.

The internet is loud. Every moment, someone somewhere is uploading a masterpiece — a painting that looks effortless, a film sequence that feels cinematic, a brand campaign polished until it gleams. With a single scroll, you can travel through a hundred creative worlds, each one more refined than the last.

I’ve been thinking about how much pressure there is to know. To know where you’re headed. To know what you want. To know how to get there. In school, the path feels drawn out — syllabuses, semesters, grades. There’s always something or someone showing you where to go next. But when you start looking toward a career, the map suddenly disappears. The road isn’t straight anymore; it bends, splits, loops, and sometimes fades altogether.

This site has been on my mind for a long time — a place that feels personal, honest, and alive. I wanted somewhere to document not just what I make, but what I’m learning, what I’m curious about, and how my ideas evolve along the way.