May Reflections • Stray Signals
#05 | May 2025
Last Month, In a Thought
Time has a strange way of compressing when you're not looking. Four months have slipped through my fingers since my last update; a record even for my usual, delayed cadence.
The prime culprits?
Two 3-week trips that I somehow managed to squeeze into a four-month window, when normally I'd spread that kind of travel over at least six months. That's nearly six weeks of being away, not counting the extensive preparation and aftermath that comes with extended travel.
Each destination becomes its own obsession. I spend weeks diving into obscure blogs, local forums, and Facebook groups, engaging with locals, mapping routes, cross-referencing recommendations to filter tourist traps from actual gems.
For me, travel isn't about ticking boxes or collecting passport stamps. It's a pilgrimage, each journey a sacred ritual.
By the time I board the plane, I've usually built a small database of possibilities in my mind.
I map out everything from hidden viewpoints to the time of day certain valleys catch the best light, or which neighbourhoods deserve their reputation.
And of course, hunting down cafes that might meet my espresso standards, because life's too short for burnt beans and mediocre pulls.
I also refuse to waste a single meal on tourist traps or cute-but-mediocre spots, so by the time I land, I've built a mental map of possibilities that most visitors rarely discover.
The aftermath of these trips creates its own chaos though. My clinical hours still demand their pound of flesh, now squeezed into a tighter window. Then there's the backlog of everything else: portfolio decisions that need attention, administrative tasks that breed like rabbits, nd life's constant barrage of questions that didn't pause while I was away.
Gathering these scattered strands feels like trying to wrangle an octopus - just when I think I've got one tentacle under control, seven others are still dancing free.
Every trip leaves a crater of catch-up that takes weeks to climb out of.
The last four months felt like trying to gulp down Niagara Falls while keeping three flaming torches in the air—technically doable, but unwise.
Stray Thoughts
Rather than putting together a comprehensive narrative around a month that resists neat packaging (and let's be real, trying to reconstruct detailed memories from four months ago would be an exercise in creative writing), I'm opting for something different: a collection of raw, unfiltered thoughts that surfaced throughout the month.
Some weeks these insights burst forth like fireworks, sparked by late-night revelations or conversations that blindside me. Other weeks slip past in a blur of tasks and deadlines. I pin these thoughts to paper while they still crackle with life, before they disappear.
I'm calling them Stray Thoughts because they're the wanderers, the misfits that refuse to settle into tidy categories and cannot find a home elsewhere.
Going forward, I'll probably just publish these collections mid-month rather than waiting for month's end.
But for May, these fragments will serve as my waypoints through time. They stand in place of the fuller story I’d tell if I weren’t catching up on the last four months of events.
I used to think that if I understood why something was bothering me, it should stop bothering me.
That if I could map the dynamic, name the pattern, trace the wound—then that would be enough.
And sometimes it is. But not always.
Because intellectual clarity doesn’t neutralize emotional injury.
It doesn’t bring closure.
It just makes the discomfort easier to explain, not easier to feel.
Maybe it’s like using a scalpel to treat a bruise.
So then what?
If understanding doesn’t dissolve it, what’s left?
You get to understand it in high definition.
Clarity doesn’t grant relief. It just removes confusion.
A quiet truth I keep bumping into: You have enough time. You just don’t have enough obsession
There’s a James Clear quote I’ve been turning over:
Focus on how the world is working with you, not against you. Everything you are given is material for the next move. Everything.
I want to believe that in the moment. But I usually don’t.
Because when something misses, when the plan breaks or the outcome falls flat…it doesn’t feel like material.
It feels like a misread.
Like I bet on the wrong thing, or aimed too high, or should’ve seen it coming.
Yet, when I look back, life’s been "directionally" good to me.
Things haven’t always gone to plan.
But the detours, delays, and defeats? The stuff I filed under “setback”. They were never the dead ends I thought they were.
They just didn’t announce what they were becoming.
They were building blocks or early moves. Sometimes even slingshots.
What I keep circling back to isn’t some mindset shift. It’s a simple recalibration:
What doesn’t work out still becomes part of the material.
What didn’t work still feeds what’s next.
What closes might be clearing space.
The harder part is remembering that while it’s happening.
Not that everything has meaning.\ But maybe the world isn’t working against me.
That when something disappears or doesn’t go through, it’s not always sabotage. It might be setup.
I forget that. A lot.
When I remember, something settles.
And I start to build again.
Made a list today of things I’ve been quietly nudging into some distant, indefinite future, mostly because they’re expensive, a bit risky, or both.
But if not now, when?
Get a pilot’s license (because flying a plane seems “freeing”)
Learn how to ride (and get licensed for) motorbikes (two wheels just seem more fun than four)
Skydiving (gravity deserves respect, but fear doesn’t)
Get a tat (although I’ve never been able to think of anything cool enough to ink + I don’t want to be banished from Japanese onsens)
“If” is the most polite way to brace for failure.
A friend asked me: “what’s next”?
I said I’m experimenting with a bunch of things. I’ll let you know when one lands.
He paused: “I like that you said when. Not if.”
That remark been living in my head ever since.
“If” is a cushion. It softens the blow before it hits. It’s a quiet exit route, rehearsed in advance.
But I’ve learned that the only unknown is when, not whether.
And when is infuriating...
It doesn’t follow my demanded pace.
It drags. It stretches. It pretends not to hear.
It doesn’t follow my calendar or care how ready I am.
Hard, asymmetric outcomes often arrive on a massive lag.
Usually after you’ve adjusted your expectations twice.
Sometimes after you’ve already stopped looking.
And in the worst stretches, delay starts to look like dead ends.
In real time, limbo and failure wear the same face.
There’s no label when you’re mid-wait, so you start to interpret the silence.
But that doesn’t mean it isn’t coming.
It means that the outcome isn’t listening to my tempo.
So no, it’s not “if.”
It’s “when.” Still.
Even if I hate the pace.
The only thing worse than the wait...is stepping out, and never finding out how close you were.
Not mine. Just things that are blunt, uncomfortable, and mostly right.\ If any of these offend you or sting, sit with them longer.
On Ambition
You cannot live a big life surrounded by small people.
The only thing crazier than chasing your goals is expecting other people to understand it.
The willingness to be misunderstood is a requirement for success.
The lazy lose to the average. The average lose to the focused. The focused lose to the obsessed.
On Control
You can’t outthink the world into submission. The universe doesn’t take orders from your thoughts.
Many psychologically-driven life problems trace back to our refusal to accept people and the world as they are—and our compulsion to control them.
Quitting is an underrated skill.
On Letting Go
Stress and anxiety are directly proportional to the amount of time we spend in the past or future.
Since my mid-20s, every meaningful decision faced a single, unforgiving test:
Does this increase the probability that by 35 I’ll answer to no one, depend on nothing, and spend my days exactly as I choose?
Because buying time back is perhaps the most expensive thing there is…and I’m paying up front.
Sweat Equity
Iron and pavement continue to take turn claiming my sweat (as usual): three days lifting, three days running.
My lifts dance between strength and hypertrophy, while my runs have been focused on improving my lactate threshold. These days, I’m teaching my legs to embrace the burn without needing to curse myself into submission like a drill sergeant screaming in my own head.
Workouts Logged: 21/31 days (subpar training month for me 😵)
Next Stop (Maybe)
My travel plans for the next 12 months are now up on my personal blog. It's a living document, breathing and evolving like a restless wanderer.
It maps out both my locked-in adventures and the places tugging at my imagination - a window into my globe-trotting thoughts for fellow explorers wondering which corner of the world I'll wander to next.
I'll update it as plans crystallize.
Until next time,
— T
Archive
January: Unscheduled Maintenance