I belong to the last generation that remembers growing up before the world went digital. No internet. No smartphones. No social media. Just bikes left in front yards, trips to the video store on Friday nights, Saturday matinees at the movie theater, comic books, cable television, five bucks in quarters at the arcade inside Lamppost Pizza, and parents who expected you home before the streetlights came on.

I was a latch-key kid growing up in a world that taught independence early and thick skin naturally. I learned empathy from E.T., right from wrong from Superman and Batman, how to recognize—and fight—fascism from Star Wars and Indiana Jones, and how to drive a manual transmission before GPS told people where to turn.

I remember when entertainment felt communal instead of algorithmic, when finding a movie, television show, comic book, or band felt like uncovering something all your own. Maybe that’s why I still collect physical media. My generation learned long ago that the things we loved could disappear without warning, so if a movie, television series, album, or book truly mattered to you, you made sure you owned it.

Maybe that’s why I still love writing about movies, television, pop culture, storytelling, cooking, nostalgia, and the strange little observations that stick with us as we get older.

This site has existed in one form or another for years. Sometimes active. Sometimes neglected. Much like the writer behind it.

But I always seem to come back to the same thing:
writing… inconsistently.