Sometimes I sit down and start typing away mindlessly and other times I feel a jumble of nerves. It took years to make sense of that sensation. To know what could be done with it. How to resolve it. All without getting too mindful.

One of my work stories around writing is that I wrote this book in my early 20s. The self-help boom, paired with the arrival of eastern esotericism and spirituality, ignited a pretentiousness only young men recently removed from boyhood can emit.

The world conquered, and the game won in my mind, this new wealth of intellectual social value was only a just reward for my bearing. I would be a writer who educated poor fools.

And so I wrote. Manically. Hundreds of pages in two weeks time. Assured I had been chosen in the grand prophecy mythos of Western media. A newborn best seller, riding a bullet train to Kyoto unironically in the tourist garb.

It is astounding how grateful I am for the humility that followed that hubris. The embarrassment. The shame. The guilt as memories turned to different shades. Revealing a thread between the pompous words I retched and the man I had been.

It took over five years before I wrote again. There was no doubt that 'great writers are born from great experiences' was valuable insight. And I, who had only recently begun traveling, enjoying the pomposity it compounded upon, finally realized that I was an idiot.

I did not know anything of value in Life. I had no business telling anyone what they should or shouldn't do. I was a little demon. A trauma baby overcompensating through the guise of intellectual prowess. It was right there on the page. Would I disrespect myself further by denying it?

That trip and writing experience was the beginning of my travel destinations changing from hot spots to struggling nations and sketchy governments. To nations you get warning colors from the tourism board. To neighborhoods and dinner tables that discuss human trafficking as privileged tables may discuss allergy season.

Not only were these experiences heart breaking, but they pushed the dagger from Japan deeper. Because yes I was an idiot, but now I also realized I was an entitled whiny bitch.

My traumas run deeper than average, and even still, pale in comparison to the people I've met. Who were more polite. Who were more grateful. People who were in a better mood!

Not in a forced facade mood. A more content and stable rhythm of energy they emit.

The humiliation.

I feel my guts turn over as I type this. I am sorry to those people for my past behavior. It was simply something I did not know. How blind one can be.

This all relates to ENRGY and writing in that writing is how I remedy those realizations. It is not to tell anyone anything. It is to look in the mirror. To make sure that I am a reasonable level of idiot and not a whiny entitled bitch.

When I returned to writing five years later, finished with my backpackers era, the world shut down because of the COVID pandemic. I was out of work, returned to family to help with the elderly, and stumbled into crypto. Nothing was more interesting at that time than this idea of internet native money and the coming developments. I started writing research notes as essays. I don't know why that's what I chose. I just wrote.

That spark led to writing regularly about web technology, internet culture, and economics. Those writings led to career opportunities that relieved me of past jobs. That ingratiated me to a world of tech and futurism I was not privy to in all my travel around the globe. It became clear what writing, for me, was meant to feel like.

This introduction is written in that feeling. I'm not telling you to do anything. I'm just writing about ENRGY.

This is the foundation that allows an independent entrepreneur to scale their own data on the internet. It's not a genius or even novel idea, just remixed to my aesthetics and opinions.

You can never know if a new venture will take flight, but after all that writing it's clear that having a home for your own content is better than not. And that posting my writing keeps the standard of those hard earned lessons.

Sometimes I sit down and start typing away mindlessly and other times I feel a jumble of nerves. It took years to make sense of that sensation. To know what could be done with it. How to resolve it. All without getting too mindful.

One of my work stories around writing is that I wrote this book in my early 20s. The self-help boom, paired with the arrival of eastern esotericism and spirituality, ignited a pretentiousness only young men recently removed from boyhood can emit.

The world conquered, and the game won in my mind, this new wealth of intellectual social value was only a just reward for my bearing. I would be a writer who educated poor fools.

And so I wrote. Manically. Hundreds of pages in two weeks time. Assured I had been chosen in the grand prophecy mythos of Western media. A newborn best seller, riding a bullet train to Kyoto unironically in the tourist garb.

It is astounding how grateful I am for the humility that followed that hubris. The embarrassment. The shame. The guilt as memories turned to different shades. Revealing a thread between the pompous words I retched and the man I had been.

It took over five years before I wrote again. There was no doubt that 'great writers are born from great experiences' was valuable insight. And I, who had only recently begun traveling, enjoying the pomposity it compounded upon, finally realized that I was an idiot.

I did not know anything of value in Life. I had no business telling anyone what they should or shouldn't do. I was a little demon. A trauma baby overcompensating through the guise of intellectual prowess. It was right there on the page. Would I disrespect myself further by denying it?

That trip and writing experience was the beginning of my travel destinations changing from hot spots to struggling nations and sketchy governments. To nations you get warning colors from the tourism board. To neighborhoods and dinner tables that discuss human trafficking as privileged tables may discuss allergy season.

Not only were these experiences heart breaking, but they pushed the dagger from Japan deeper. Because yes I was an idiot, but now I also realized I was an entitled whiny bitch.

My traumas run deeper than average, and even still, pale in comparison to the people I've met. Who were more polite. Who were more grateful. People who were in a better mood!

Not in a forced facade mood. A more content and stable rhythm of energy they emit.

The humiliation.

I feel my guts turn over as I type this. I am sorry to those people for my past behavior. It was simply something I did not know. How blind one can be.

This all relates to ENRGY and writing in that writing is how I remedy those realizations. It is not to tell anyone anything. It is to look in the mirror. To make sure that I am a reasonable level of idiot and not a whiny entitled bitch.

When I returned to writing five years later, finished with my backpackers era, the world shut down because of the COVID pandemic. I was out of work, returned to family to help with the elderly, and stumbled into crypto. Nothing was more interesting at that time than this idea of internet native money and the coming developments. I started writing research notes as essays. I don't know why that's what I chose. I just wrote.

That spark led to writing regularly about web technology, internet culture, and economics. Those writings led to career opportunities that relieved me of past jobs. That ingratiated me to a world of tech and futurism I was not privy to in all my travel around the globe. It became clear what writing, for me, was meant to feel like.

This introduction is written in that feeling. I'm not telling you to do anything. I'm just writing about ENRGY.

This is the foundation that allows an independent entrepreneur to scale their own data on the internet. It's not a genius or even novel idea, just remixed to my aesthetics and opinions.

You can never know if a new venture will take flight, but after all that writing it's clear that having a home for your own content is better than not. And that posting my writing keeps the standard of those hard earned lessons.