If there were a biography about you, what would the title be?

“Somehow Still Alive: Notes from the Scenic Route.”

Because the straight path was never an option. Every sensible highway exit was ignored in favor of questionable detours, strange side quests, and the persistent belief that the long way around usually hides the good stories.

It would be a tale of stubborn momentum. Of bad timing that somehow turned into perfect timing. Of chasing light with a camera, chasing meaning with a notebook, and occasionally chasing sanity through the woods when the world got too loud to hear yourself think.

There would be chapters about grief that never quite leaves, love that refused to quit, kids who changed the entire trajectory of the story, and a recurring theme of saying “yes” just often enough to keep life from becoming predictable.

Critics would call it chaotic. Friends would call it familiar. Enemies would probably call it irresponsible. All of them would be correct.

It wouldn’t read like a master plan. More like a field journal written during a long expedition where nobody bothered to bring a map. Just a compass, a camera, and the stubborn belief that forward is the only direction worth arguing with.

Because in the end, the story isn’t about perfection.

It’s about survival, strange roads, and refusing to live a life that could be summarized in a neat paragraph.