I’ve been thinking a great deal about the passage of time, lately. I don’t know if it’s because of the increasing dread that comes with being a “30-something year old”, or because quarantine gave me a chance to air out the corners of my brain and really dig into the wild thoughts that keep me up at night.

I’ve been thinking a lot about legacy, and history, and my impact on time. I find myself wondering what I’m doing with my life. Am I bringing value into existence? What am I leaving behind before I pass into the cosmos as endless space dust?

I’ve been spending time lately nurturing my creative side. I figure leaving some art, a few recipes, and a dumb blog no one reads is sort of a legacy, right? I think I’m doing a pretty good job with my sourdough bread, and my garden is finally producing vegetables I can eat!

But I feel like I’m still not doing enough. I figure everyone encounters this wall eventually. This blog, and all of my creative endeavors are my way of binding together some sort of ladder to get over that wall and maybe leave my name scrawled on the other side.