A tiny strip of pink tape started as a way to mark my tools. Somewhere along the way, it became part of my identity. My brand.

“It depends” is always true. It’s the easy answer. But for the hard questions — it’s rarely the right one.

You don’t need to add hours to get better. You just need to notice the reps you already do. Same work. Sharper reps.

100 days in. The goal isn’t out there somewhere—it’s here. It’s in showing up, writing, and sharing every day.

There’s a subtle hum after launch—a space between exhale and inhale. It’s where relief meets reflection and gratitude fills the room.

Onion problems aren’t hard because they’re unknown. They’re hard because of volume and tedium. The only way through? Start chopping.

A quiet moment this week made me reflect on why I started. It has nothing to do with software—and everything to do with spark.

Tech debt isn’t something to resent—it’s a receipt. A sign that something got made. That progress happened. Now it’s your turn to move it forward.

Before you build the plan—count the days. Real days. The ones you can actually work with. It’s simpler than it sounds. And more sobering than you’d expect.

Coming back from PTO doesn’t have to mean inbox chaos. I’ve developed a system that works with how my mind moves—so I can catch up with calm, not overwhelm.

Archiving is how I close chapters. Not just to organize the work—but to honor it. To say: this mattered. This happened. We did it.

Process should be earned. Not inherited. Not performed. Not protected out of habit.

Tone is your fingerprint. Your feel. But it’s not a prerequisite. It’s the product of effort. Start before you “find your sound.” Then find it.

Sometimes the win is invisible. You’re the only one who saw how hard it was. Celebrate it—quietly. For yourself. For others. It doesn’t have to be big.

Don’t yuck someone’s yum. You might just learn something—about the project, the process, or the person sitting across from you.