Here is to the story

Maybe I just have a lot on my mind.

For over three decades, I’ve put pen to paper. I’ve written in tally books, Moleskines, and most recently, Japanese Tomoe River notebooks.

One thing has always stayed the same: I write.

I snapped this photo about a month ago. It’s been sitting in a folder labeled “Topics.” Tonight—Saturday night—I worked all day, and figured now was as good a time as any to start this story.

Originally, I wrote poetry. I wanted so badly to emulate Edgar Allan Poe—so misunderstood. That raw, emotional intensity spoke to me.

I still write poems now and then, though not as often. I must have filled four of those books in the photo while working on rigs. Oh, the time I once had.

I guess I really started writing around age 14, freshman year of high school. My doctor recommended I work things out on paper—and I listened. I’m glad I did.

I still have those early notebooks. They’re in that same stack, full of thoughts stretching back more than 30 years.

When I moved from field work to an office job, writing took on a new meaning. It helped me track my internal cycles—highs, lows, and everything in between. One of the quiet powers of writing is its ability to store thoughts safely, until you’re ready to return to them.

Going back through those books has been incredible.

As I read, I’m transported back. I can feel the moment again—with sharp clarity. That clarity, I think, is what drew me to photography. To help capture and expand the story.

I’m not even sure if this post will end up on social media. Maybe it’s one of those “private/public” entries—the kind you have to seek out.

But I think it’s time to tell my story.

I’ve got the tools now—and the time.

Here’s to the story.