What I Think
These are my thoughts. Unfinished, honest, and mine.
Select a topic from the menu to begin.
On Creativity
Creativity isn't a gift. It's a discipline disguised as chaos.
I used to believe that creative people were simply born that way — that inspiration was something that visited you, like weather. You either had a stormy mind or a clear one. But I've come to think that's entirely wrong.
Creativity is a practice. It's what happens when you show up every day, even when the well feels dry, and you make something anyway. The act of making — however imperfect — is what keeps the channel open.
The hardest part isn't the blank page. It's tolerating the gap between what you can imagine and what you can currently produce. Every person I admire creatively has learned to sit with that gap without flinching.
Make ugly things. Finish them. Then make more.
On Solitude
We've confused loneliness with solitude, and it's costing us something essential.
Loneliness is the ache of unwanted separation. Solitude is something you choose — a deliberate turning inward that replenishes rather than depletes.
Most people I know are terrified of quiet. They reach for their phones before they've even opened their eyes in the morning. I understand the impulse. Silence has weight. It presses against you and asks things.
But those questions are worth answering. The version of yourself that exists without an audience is the truest version. And if you never spend time with that person, you risk building an entire life around a character you're performing, rather than someone you actually are.
Ten minutes a day. Just sit. It's enough to start.
On Technology
Tools don't shape us. Our relationship to them does.
Every generation has had its moral panic about a new technology — the printing press, the telephone, television. In hindsight we usually see those fears as overblown. But that doesn't mean the concerns were wrong to raise.
The question worth asking isn't "is this technology good or bad?" It's "what does this technology make easier, and what does it make harder?" Because every tool tips the scales somewhere.
The danger isn't the tool itself. It's passive adoption — accepting whatever default behaviour a platform nudges you toward without noticing. Intentional use is the antidote. Use the thing, then put it down. Notice what changes.
We built these things. We can choose how we relate to them.
On Beauty
Beauty is not decoration. It is information about what matters.
We're taught to be suspicious of beauty — to treat an interest in aesthetics as frivolous, even vain. But I think that's a mistake. Attention to beauty is attention to the world. It's a form of care.
When something is made beautifully, it carries a signal: someone thought about how this would feel to encounter. That consideration has value. It changes the experience of moving through a space, reading a page, using an object.
Ugly things erode us quietly. Not dramatically, not all at once. But environments that haven't been thought about tend to communicate that they don't expect much from you. Beautiful environments ask something different of you. They raise your own standards by example.
Pay attention to what moves you. Then make more things like that.
On Change
The self is not fixed. That's terrifying and wonderful in equal measure.
One of the most destabilising realisations I've had is that the person I was five years ago would barely recognise my current priorities. And the person I'll be in five more years probably can't be predicted from here.
We cling to identity as though it were something solid. "I'm not the kind of person who..." is a sentence that closes more doors than it protects. Change happens whether you cooperate or not. The only question is whether you're driving it or being dragged.
The most useful thing I've found is to hold your self-concept loosely. Not to abandon it — you need somewhere to stand — but to treat it as provisional. A working theory about who you are, subject to revision as new evidence comes in.
You are allowed to become someone your old self wouldn't have predicted.