Currently, I’m contemplating the facets of care.
Am I accurate about what it means to care;
or, am I soothing that piece of me that yearns to be better,
and more than I am today.

It’s easy to lose grip of reality.
Is it Bombs over Baghdad or tear gas canisters exploding over Los Angeles?

I have a device embedded to my hand, a supercomputer wrapped in titanium and glass.
And, it’s still impossible to parse fact from fiction.
Garbage in; garbage out.

Moorings past, felt anchored to trust and credibility;
a fact felt like something you could cash at the bank.
These days, everything feels like foreign currency.

Exchange rates out of wack, don’t know who you can trust,
what you can trust.
It’s all fiat.

It feels like you don’t need an influencer or a journalist to know what’s what:
Our freedoms are under fire.
From Tiktok to CNN, the alarms have been tripped.

Yet, helplessness and detach.
I am moved and affected. I am sad and disheartened.
I feel lost.
I am exhausted.

Two truths are held.
Like friends, there are only so many things I can nurture well.
And, I’m stretched.

America’s grand experiment wasn’t to just stop kissing the ring, and bending the knee to the King.
It was a manageable, docile, and paralyzed citizenry;
One that cared enough to take ownership, but not enough to stage another coup.

Do I care too little, or too much?

What’s care?

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Filled with mixed emotions. It seems unbelievable that Martin Luther King Day and the inauguration of a criminal could be on the same day. I’m reminded by the more thoughtful from my follow list, that I can decide to show up any way I’d like. Right now, that’s resistance. I want to use my voice to dissent. Life’s complexities will provide this space with several topics, but today, I’ll continue to offer a sandbox for those that are as angry and frustrated as me.

-Justin

P.S. When I downloaded the cover photo for this post (with all 3 technocrats), I renamed it “The New Axis of Evil.” They legitimately look haunting and their collective impact is incalculable.

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We hold these truths to be debatable.

When I opened Linkedin to schedule a post for a client, this was the first thing I saw:

I don’t know Becca. Hell, I probably know less than 1% of the people in my social media multiverse. Before I wrote this, I decided to double back to her profile. It looks legit enough, so I’ll forge ahead.

The world looked a lot different in the 90s. For instance, we still valued expertise. If you committed 8+ years of your life to medicine or research, people would gladly take your word over someone off the street. (Reminds me of Bill Burr pushing back on Joe Rogan.)

Political affiliation was largely a secret. I didn’t know who my parents voted for until my late teenage years.

Our lives were secrets to people outside our community, unless we did something newsworthy.

Friendships were built largely on proximity and the ability to get along — and wanting to do similar stuff.

Economically, there was a kinder distribution of incomes and wealth. A healthy middle class meant people weren’t constantly fighting for scraps everywhere you looked. Back then, some of our parents still had pensions.

It made sense that I believed in inalienable truths. There was no debate about the earth being round or if the moon landing was real. People were still racist, but you got the sense that the chattel slavery debate was done and dusted. There was no debate about whether the Holocaust took place.

Now, not only are all of these things debatable for a large swath of the U.S. population, there are hundreds of things for which we’ve moved from acceptance to re-litigation.

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I haven’t written because I didn’t know how to change. Constantly questioning how much this space is allowed to shift and adapt to my interests and curiosities. I still don’t have the answer, but it feels like a piece of me is missing. Nothing left but to try.

-Justin

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I love me; I love me not.

It’s confusing to reconcile the image you have of yourself with the one others hold.

When people look at my professional journey, they speak so highly: You’ve accomplished a lot! You worked on Wall Street?! Freelancing for three years, let alone ten, is crazy. You’ve stacked so many experiences in such a short time.

When I look at it, it feels muted and abbreviated: You’ve bounced around a lot. You flunked out of your first three jobs. You were a successful photographer but average at best. Nobody knows who you are or what you’re good at.

There are moments of self-adulation, waves of confidence—short-lived but real.

One of the most transformative moments of my therapy journey was during a mirror exercise. My therapist asked me to sit in a chair and pretend a mirror was in front of me. He prompted me to speak to my reflection and share how I felt about the person staring back.

I said everything except an emotion. Then he asked, “What about love?”

I told myself, I love you, and immediately broke down.

It was joy, pain, and regret all at once. I couldn’t believe it had taken 37 years to experience this. I was happy I’d finally arrived at some version of self-love, but it hurt to realize how long it had taken.

It felt like shedding one skin for another—a kind of ascension. Overwhelming, but amazing. I felt lighter. The shift felt almost immediate.

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This weekend brought big shifts in energy. Throwing up a little in my mouth. I know I sound woo woo, but something did happen. Learning to feel, to live, to love, isn’t easy for some of us. I feel like I’m cracking and getting access to more of me. I’m thankful. I’m scared. I’m excited.

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Today, just trying to make sense…

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How are you feeling at the moment? How would you answer that if I stipulated no filler words or fluff? It’s been a minute, because it’s been a lot. Some struggles and some excitement. Big changes and big fun. Enjoy today’s letter. It’s to you, and to me.

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San Francisco weather has landed on the east coast. Warm days, cool nights. I’m geeked to be able to don my high school basketball hoodie around the apartment. It’s funny how much we are wooed into the excitement of leaf peeping season even though we know misery is a stone’s throw away.

Life is poetic. I hope you travel your week in goo…

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Quiet. New York is a yo-yo at the end of summer. Most people are still away, yet there are days where the city is flooded. College students and their families moving into dorms. Summer outdoor events like film screenings and community biking. You never know what you’re going to get. It’s a gamble. No wonder NYC feels like a drug to tho…

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I’m on vacation. Will write a little more of a preamble next week. Have a good one y’all!

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Positive things are happening: Kamala and her social media are making me forget Trump exists. The Olympics have been fascinating, from wardrobes to pettiness, a full vibe. It’s summer, so that’s cool. And yet, unemployment is up, the market tanked, and things feel slow. Idk.

Channeling a Boomer pep talk: You gotta take stock in what you…

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Feels like things are right in the world momentarily. USA is crushing it at the Olympics (I think). Kamala is making Trump look weird as she surges in the polls. Her social media is a vibe btw. The sun is shining. I hope we can keep this energy in 90 days or so when the polls open.

In other news, I’m purging again. Closet by closet, sto…

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Do you know Andrew Bustamante? Great name. He’s a former covert CIA intelligence office. I listened to his interview on Steven Bartlett’s Diary of a CEO. Manipulation and motivation are two sides of the same coin. A paraphrased tidbit from the episode. My mind wanted to find other two-sided connections. I was struggling with my own rel…

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Last week, I definitely had burgers. This week, I’m dying from oppressive humidity. I barely want to cycle unless it’s past 6pm. Definitely not waking for an early ride without convincing.

Starting a business can be slow work when it’s not fast. Those who have done it will know exactly why that statement seems obvious but isn’t. I’m bu…

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My parents were here last week. I’m considering writing about how outside perspectives can help you dig deeper into family intimacy. I was really happy to have them here. I feel like I learn something new with each dinner conversation.

Happy 4th of July. I hope you’re fortunate enough to see fireworks or eat something cooked on a grill…

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Sorry I wasn’t with you last week. It’s been biking madness. If you happen to see any of my videos on my cycling challenge, please like and repost. Leave me some love in the comments.

Also, quick question—any topics you’d like me to share. Anything going on in your life that would be helped by a little creative writing? Comment or repl…

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I came across a video of an author talking about how his early writing wasn’t good. He said something like, there was none of me in it. When he started, he was trying to write stories about characters and stand-ins for real living. His writing improved when he was able to get vulnerable. To put yourself in the writing, is to give a pie…

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After I wrote this, I read it to my partner. As I read the last couple of sentences, I started to cry. It was a surprising and relief-filled moment. I said, “I really like this one.” And, I do.

It’s an attempt at art. I hope it hits for you.

-Justin

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I’m under the weather with a positive attitude. Somehow, I think I dropped some heat below. Let me know what you think. I love y’all. Thanks for continuing to read.

-Justin

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I skipped last week. I’m sorry, and I hope you’ll forgive me. We’re all going with the flow. My goal is to have something authentic to say, and the capacity to say it. It’ll happen 90% of the time. But, not all the time.

On a fun tip, MASS MoCA and TOURISTS is a vibe. NYC is getting better by the day. And, I finding my way back to readi…

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Two messages. Be kind to yourself wherever you’re at. I’m still processing how much of a tough self-grader I am. I’m harsh, and it shows to the people that love me. I don’t know when I got wound this tight, but I’m ready to release all this tension.

Secondly, visit my new site. Totally cool if it doesn’t apply to you. Most of you are he…

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