An echo chamber of one. Laws, lyrics, lore, leitmotif, and lother stuff. Dissected with curiosity and reconstructed with disregard for convention. A meticulously chaotic exploration of everything that is nothing in particular. Strategerically awful on purpose, and the best of what’s left.

Dear Reader, Are You There?

I like to write. But my style is not artistically engaging. By profession, it prioritizes clarity of instruction over emotional resonance, and is legally binding. Technical documentation drafted under duress. Laws, regulations, analyses – exhaustive exercises in precision and the avoidance of ambiguity. A life spent chasing fidelity to the letter, debating over the meaning of a sentence’s semi-colon, or convincing others “effect” is also a verb. Language to govern every conceivable scenario (and several inconceivable ones). I find the process… satisfying.

However, perfecting meticulous culpability standards for civil liability reach a point of diminishing returns. This site is an attempt to redirect that energy. To synthesize information and articulate concepts to an inanimate object. To produce something that isn’t destined for a legislative docket.

I find myself increasingly drawn to the mechanics of understanding itself—the act of breaking down complex systems into manageable components and reassembling them in novel configurations. Slowly making my way through life, eliminating what I don’t know I don’t know. Lateral thinking.

The great thing about writing, or art in general, is that every keystroke, strum of a guitar, or delivered joke is deliberate. The artist created meaning out of nothing, and put creativity to canvas. It captures a point in time. They chose one word over another, a particular expression of emotion, or silence in place of noise. Every creative component—from a single lyric’s resonance to a drum solo’s complex mix, or even a law’s seemingly absolute mandate—is inherently subject to deep interpretation. In my profession, there is no such thing as a loophole. If the word is there, it is purposely put there; if a word is not there… also purposeful. And my favorite: if a word changes, there is an articulable explicit or implied reason, which provides incredible additional insight into intent (not only of the previous version, but the issue that brought about the change; how the author interpreted the issue and found their intended fix; and the author’s intent with the subsequent version’s construction).

This notion forms the basis of hermeneutics: the philosophical study that acknowledges that the meaning of a text (or any work of art) transcends the creator’s original intent. The work is not a static statement of purpose but a living text, rich with allegories and layered meanings for the reader to uncover. Or misinterpret completely.

You are welcome to read. Or not. I have no regulatory authority over your leisure time. Read at your own risk though; no citations are required.

Who Am I?

Just a person who grew up in Seattle. A 90s xennial introvert smothered under grunge culture. I flipped burgers in high school; joined the Navy as a radiochemist and radiological controls technician on submarines; finished an undergraduate in human resources (ended up being useless); left the Navy to be a process engineer in circuit board manufacturing; used my military education benefits to finish an M.B.A. (I learned a lot, but also useless); promptly laid off during the great recession; went back to school and exhausted my military education benefits to get a law degree; hired by a state agency after graduation. And here I have remained.

Small family, music lover (KEXP 90.3 FM!), avid gamer (Monster Hunter, woo! Soulsborne, woo!), reader (more educational than literature), LEGO builder (need more display space), and lifetime baseball player (sadly no longer due to injury). As for other uses of spare time, my brain is a bit divergent. Special interests come and go, hyper-focus makes time fly, I need routine, my senses are extremely sensitive, I need to pay attention to my mood, and I constantly mask in public. Writing helps me be myself, if only to process thoughts and output something real, as opposed to spending all day in my head.

That means this list will continue to grow: learning linux, docker, basic coding; self-hosting services (ad-blocking, media servers, data hoarding); continual collecting of headphones and audio gear; messing with software-defined radio; way too much coffee gear; comparing different strains of recreational marijuana; sitting next to a dust-covered Stratocaster; music production gear sitting in the attic; enjoying my dream car (Subaru STi); watching Lord of the Rings when I decide I need to cry; and other things I can’t control learning about.

Why? Worry.

Does a submarine captain need to worry about the installation of a screen door? Does a skydiver need to worry when he sees his parachute packer reading a book titled Origami for Beginners? Does a man wearing a tuxedo made of raw sirloin need to worry about the approaching pack of wolves? Does a man discussing a crime need to worry about the microphone in his soup, if the waiter promises to only listen for “keywords related to tipping”? Does a teenager need to worry about photocopying her diary and dropping it from a blimp, provided she crossed out her middle name with a very light pencil?” Is Angela Bennet ever going to eat pie again after playing the new hot game “Mozart’s Ghost”? Do I own the Gatekeeper security system, and am I gathering data on you?

No.