Musings

My Brain at 3AM: A Transcript

Man insomniac eyes wide open

This post is for my fellow night owls and insomniacs!

So here I am again, staring at my ceiling fan like it holds the secrets to the universe. You know that feeling when your brain decides bedtime is actually the perfect moment to become a philosophical debate club? Yeah, that’s me right now at 3:25 AM, and I figured I might as well document this mental chaos for your entertainment.

The Writing Projects That Haunt Me

First up on tonight’s agenda: my writing projects. You’d think my brain would be tired enough to give these a rest, but nope! Instead, it’s doing this thing where it replays every single plot hole in my current manuscript like a broken record.

“Remember that character you introduced in chapter three?” my brain whispers. “The one who was supposed to be crucial to the story? What happened to her again?”

Oh right, she vanished into thin air because I forgot about her entirely. Thanks for the reminder, brain. Really helpful at 2 AM when I can’t exactly fire up the laptop without waking everyone in a three-mile radius.

Then there’s the short story Halloween collection I started a little over 2 years ago. My nocturnal mind loves to remind me that I have exactly 18 half-finished stories sitting in various notebooks around my house. Some are scribbled into Field Notes notebooks, others typed frantically into my notes app during random moments of inspiration that I can barely remember.

Society’s Greatest Hits (Or Misses)

Speaking of things that keep me up at night – anyone else occasionally spiral about the general state of everything? No? Just me? Cool.

My 2 AM brain has some thoughts about society these days. Like, when did we collectively decide that arguing with strangers on the internet was a productive use of our time? I find myself wondering if we’re all just shouting into the void, hoping someone will validate our existence with a little heart emoji.

And don’t get me started on how we’ve somehow made basic human kindness controversial. My sleep-deprived mind keeps circling back to this weird reality where being considerate to others is seen as weakness rather than, you know, just being a decent person.

The whole social media thing really gets to me during these late-night thinking sessions. We’re more connected than ever, yet somehow lonelier too. It’s like we’re all performing happiness instead of actually living it.

Financial Anxiety Theater, Starring My Bank Account

Oh, and then there’s the money stuff. Because nothing says “peaceful slumber” like contemplating the fragility of our entire economic system, right?

My brain loves to play this fun game called “What If Everything Crashes Tomorrow? What if all my 401k money disappears?” It’s super relaxing. I’ll be lying there, almost drifting off, when suddenly I’m calculating how many cans of beans I could afford if the dollar became worthless.

The housing market alone is enough to send my thoughts into overdrive. When did buying a home become like winning the lottery? I remember my parents talking about saving up for a down payment like it was actually achievable, not some mythical quest requiring sacrifices to ancient gods.

Credit scores, inflation, student loans – my 2 AM brain treats these topics like they’re the most fascinating subjects on earth. It’s exhausting being financially anxious when I should be recharging for another day of pretending I have my life together.

The Inevitable March of Time

And because my brain apparently enjoys torture, it always circles back to aging. Not in a graceful, “wisdom comes with experience” way, but more like “Holy crap, when did I become someone who makes noise when standing up?”

I caught myself complaining about “kids these days” last week, and it hit me that I’ve officially crossed some invisible line into proper adulthood. When did that happen? One day I was figuring out college, and now I’m here googling whether that weird pain in my knee means I’m falling apart.

The worst part is how time seems to be moving faster. Remember when summer vacation felt like an eternity? Now entire seasons blur together like someone hit fast-forward on life itself.

Random 2 AM Thoughts That Demand Attention

But wait, there’s more! My brain isn’t satisfied with just the big existential stuff. It also needs to remind me about:

  • That awkward thing I said in seventh grade that literally no one else remembers
  • Whether I remembered to lock the front door (spoiler: I always did, but I’ll check anyway)
  • Whether I took my evening pills
  • If my houseplants are judging my plant-parenting skills
  • Why hot dogs come in packs of ten but buns come in packs of eight
  • What my life would be like if I’d really learned to play piano instead of abandoning it like I did

The randomness is truly spectacular. One minute I’m pondering the meaning of existence, the next I’m wondering if my cat thinks I’m a disappointing roommate.

Making Peace with the Night Mind

Here’s what I’ve learned about these 2 AM mental adventures: fighting them is pointless. My brain is going to do its thing regardless of how tired I am or how early I need to wake up.

Instead, I’ve started treating these sessions like informal therapy. Sometimes the random thoughts lead to actual insights about my writing or life goals. Other times, they’re just mental white noise that eventually exhausts itself.

I keep a notebook by my bed now for the truly brilliant (or completely ridiculous) ideas that strike during these moments. Morning me is often confused by notes like “purple elephants = financial freedom???” but occasionally there’s something worth exploring.

The key is not taking it all too seriously. Yes, society has issues. Yes, money is stressful. Yes, we’re all getting older. But none of these problems are going to be solved by my anxious 2 AM overthinking.

So here I am, sharing my nocturnal brain dump with you lovely humans. Maybe you relate, maybe you think I’m completely nuts – either way, I appreciate you reading along with my midnight musings.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to attempt sleep again. Wish me luck – my brain just remembered I never finished that book I started six months ago…


Ghost Oracle Box Set image

My Ghost Oracle Box Set (Nick Michaelson) is now available from your favorite online retailer.

Books 1-3: https://books2read.com/u/mBKOAv
Boox 4-6 https://books2read.com/u/mVxr2l

My Brain at 3AM: A Transcript Read Post »

Stop Talking, Start Doing: Why Henry Ford’s Quote Still Hits Different in 2025

Action Changes Things sign

So I was scrolling through some old quotes the other day (yes, I’m that person who gets lost in quote rabbit holes), and this gem from Henry Ford smacked me right in the face: “You can’t build a reputation on what you are GOING to do.”

Oof. Right in the feelings, Henry.

The “Someday” Syndrome Is Real

You know what’s wild? I bet every single one of us has that friend who’s been “about to start” their business for like three years now. They’ve got the perfect logo designed, they’ve researched their target market to death, and they can tell you exactly how they’re going to dominate their industry… someday.

But here’s the thing – nobody’s buying what you’re not selling yet.

I used to be the King of grand announcements. “I’m going to write a long romance series!” “I’m starting a podcast!” “I’m learning Japanese!” My poor friends probably rolled their eyes every time I declared my next big adventure. And honestly? They had every right to. Because most of those things? Yeah, they never happened.

Why We Love the Planning Phase (A Little Too Much)

There’s something intoxicating about the planning stage. It feels productive, doesn’t it? You’re making lists, doing research, maybe even buying supplies. Your brain tricks you into thinking you’re already succeeding because you’re thinking about succeeding.

But planning without action is just elaborate procrastination with better stationery.

I learned this the hard way when I spent six months “preparing” to start running. I bought the shoes, downloaded apps, mapped out routes, read articles about proper form. Want to know how many times I actually ran during those six months? Zero. Zilch. Nada.

The Reputation Reality Check

Here’s what Henry Ford understood way back in the early 1900s: your reputation isn’t built on your intentions, your plans, or your potential. It’s built on your deliverables. People remember what you actually did, not what you said you were going to do.

Think about the people you respect most. Are they the ones who always have big plans, or are they the ones who quietly get stuff done? Yeah, exactly.

Small Actions, Big Impact

The beautiful thing about Ford’s philosophy is that you don’t need to do something earth-shattering to start building your reputation. You just need to start doing something.

Want to be known as a helpful person? Start helping people in small ways – hold doors, offer genuine compliments, listen when someone needs to vent.

Want to build a reputation as a reliable professional? Start by actually meeting your deadlines instead of just promising you will.

Want to be seen as creative? Stop talking about your art and start making it, even if it’s terrible at first.

The Fear Factor

Let’s be real for a second – sometimes we stay in the planning phase because it’s safe there. You can’t fail at something you haven’t started yet, right? But you also can’t succeed.

I get it. Putting yourself out there feels vulnerable. What if people don’t like what you create? What if you’re not as good as you thought? What if you embarrass yourself?

Just Start Where You Are

You don’t need perfect conditions to begin. You don’t need the ideal setup, unlimited time, or complete confidence. You just need to start with what you have, where you are, right now.

I finally started that blog I’d been “planning” for years by literally just writing one terrible post and hitting publish. Was it perfect? Absolutely not. Did anyone even read it? Probably not. But it existed, and that was more than all my planning had ever accomplished. And though I didn’t continue with Japanese, I did learn French and I’m still studying it to this day. I also finally got off my duff and wrote books, though they were urban fantasy stories rather than romance. There’s not law that says we can’t change our mind, right? What counts is that I started doing something.

The Compound Effect of Doing

Here’s something cool that happens when you shift from planning to doing: momentum builds. Each small action makes the next one easier. Each completed task adds to your track record. Before you know it, people start noticing not what you say you’ll do, but what you consistently deliver.

Your reputation becomes less about your promises and more about your patterns.

My Challenge to You (And Myself)

So here’s what I’m thinking – what’s one thing you’ve been saying you’re “going to do” that you could actually start today? Not finish today, just start.

Maybe it’s finally publishing that blog post you’ve been drafting. Maybe it’s making that phone call you’ve been putting off. Maybe it’s just taking one small step toward that bigger goal.

Whatever it is, let’s stop building castles in the air and start laying some actual bricks.

Because at the end of the day, Henry Ford didn’t become famous for talking about cars – he became famous for making them. And making them accessible to regular people. And revolutionizing manufacturing in the process.

But it all started with doing, not just planning to do.

P.S. I’m definitely guilty of everything I just wrote about, but hey – at least I actually wrote this post instead of just thinking about it!


Buying a fixer-upper is always risky, but for Marek and Randy, the risk isn’t just financial. Their new Michigan farmhouse comes with no hot running water, endless repairs… and a resident ghost. Marek can’t ignore the young man who appears in fleeting visions, dressed in old-fashioned clothes and radiating sorrow. While Randy struggles with his new job and their strained romance, Marek is pulled deeper into the farmhouse’s past—a past that demands to be remembered. A Touch of Cedar is about the things that haunt us: broken trust, lost love, and tragedies that refuse to stay silent.

Stop Talking, Start Doing: Why Henry Ford’s Quote Still Hits Different in 2025 Read Post »

39 Things You May Not Know About Me

Man standing behind a large book with the title "Book of Secrets"

  1. I grew up in a house without hot running water. Yep—luxury was a kettle and a dream.
  2. We had a wood cook stove in the kitchen, and my childhood basically smelled like smoke and boiled potatoes.
  3. I can’t eat any kind of fish or seafood. I’m basically Poseidon’s worst dinner guest.
  4. Ruffles chips own my soul. Other chips don’t even tempt me.
  5. I lived and studied in France in the 80s and bawled like a baby at the airport when I had to come home.
  6. My childhood home was a mile down a dirt road. Picture Little House on the Prairie but with disco music.
  7. My parents spoke Finnish and English but tragically never passed on the Finnish. (So no, I can’t curse at you in three languages—just two.)
  8. My first car was a ’66 Plymouth station wagon I bought at 12 with babysitting money. Yes, I was driving at 11. Don’t tell my future insurance company.
  9. We had an 8-family party line for a phone. Everyone’s business was everyone’s business.
  10. About the time my friends noticed girls, I started noticing my friends. (Plot twist!)
  11. While studying in France, I met a dreamy French boy and we zipped from Paris to Nice on his motorcycle. Best semester break ever.
  12. At 16, I had a mustache and goatee and could buy booze for my friends. Fake ID? Didn’t need one. I had facial hair.
  13. I ran away from home at 16 and never looked back. Independent streak: unlocked.
  14. I once ran a Tarot consulting business. Yes, I’ve read people’s futures (and occasionally their bad boyfriends).
  15. I taught French at a university. Oui oui, baguette.
  16. Then I pivoted and designed databases. From verbs to variables.
  17. My forever favorite book series is Tales of the City by Armistead Maupin. Pure joy.
  18. At 16, I saw Carrie twelve times in the theater. I can probably recite it better than Sissy Spacek.
  19. My first concert was Foreigner, and I smuggled in orange-flavored vodka. Regret that flavor choice to this day.
  20. I used to play the harp until my wrists staged a full rebellion.
  21. I have one sibling—a sister.
  22. We’re both adopted.
  23. My grandparents emigrated from Finland.
  24. My last name in Finnish translates to “sandfly” or “no-see-um.” Basically, a mosquito with a PR problem.
  25. People think I’m extroverted. Truth? I need three business days to recover from one social event.
  26. I’ve been to somewhere between 200–300 weddings.
  27. To be fair, I officiated most of them. (No, I didn’t just crash them all.)
  28. My shortest job ever was as a telemarketer selling storm windows. I lasted two days and still feel itchy about it.
  29. I spend way too much money on stationery and planners. (But my To-Do lists are gorgeous.)
  30. I once met Vincent Price when he stayed at the hotel where I worked. Horror movie squeal.
  31. As a room service waiter at a 4-star hotel, I also met Charles Nelson Riley and Phyllis Diller. Showbiz bingo card: stamped.
  32. My proudest achievement? Earning my Master’s degree in Foreign Language and Literature. Blood, sweat, and a lot of French verbs went into that.
  33. I once brought home a pet rat from my Psychology class. He was smarter than most of my classmates. I named him Socrates.
  34. Spain is my favorite country (so far)—gorgeous, warm, and kind. France is my soulmate country though, so I’m torn.
  35. I’m terrified of tight, enclosed spaces. An MRI is my literal nightmare fuel.
  36. I used to have a recurring childhood nightmare of being buried alive. (No wonder I hate enclosed spaces!)
  37. Summer is my jam because cold weather is evil. Beaches used to be my happy place.
  38. In college, I dressed up as Dr. Frank-N-Furter and lip-synced “Sweet Transvestite.” When I dropped my cape, my teacher panicked and ran up to shut the door. I got an A in the class.
  39. My birth name was John, but my adoptive parents renamed me Roger. Secretly? I like “Jon” better.


Nick Michelson is 16 and he:

Can see ghosts
Reads Tarot cards
Gets visions of the future
May or may not have a crush on his best friend.
And ghosts come to him for help
..and some, for revenge

Read the book that began it all: Nick’s Awakening

39 Things You May Not Know About Me Read Post »

Fear of Screwing Up Is the Real Screw-Up

embarrassed man hiding face

So the other day I stumbled across this quote that completely stopped me in my tracks—like, mid-sip of my lukewarm coffee, mouth open, full internal monologue kind of stop:

“The greatest mistake you can make in life is to be continually fearing you will make a mistake.”
—Elbert Hubbard

First of all, shoutout to Elbert Hubbard for smacking us across the forehead with truth like that. (Fun fact: Hubbard was an American writer, philosopher, and all-around opinionated guy who also went down with the Lusitania in 1915. Yeah. THAT Lusitania. History is dramatic.)

Anyway, the quote hit me because it’s so painfully relevant to, like, every single anxious thought spiral I’ve had since birth.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve wasted an obscene amount of time fearing imaginary future screw-ups. Like, I’ve held entire fake arguments in my head, rehearsed how I’d apologize for things I hadn’t done, and talked myself out of trying stuff—just in case I wasn’t perfect at it on the first try. (Spoiler: I wouldn’t have been, because that’s how learning works. Duh.)

The Perfection Paralysis Is Real

You know that feeling? That itchy fear that if you say the wrong thing, wear the wrong thing, post the wrong thing, exist the wrong way, you’ll somehow ruin everything?

Yeah, that voice sucks.

It’s that low-grade hum in the back of your brain whispering, “Don’t do it. You’ll mess it up. People will laugh. People will notice. People will REMEMBER THIS FOREVER.” (Spoiler again: they won’t. Everyone’s busy worrying about their own mess-ups.)

I once spent three whole weeks obsessing over whether I used the wrong emoji in an email. Not because it was offensive or anything—just because I was afraid it made me look “unprofessional.” It was a freaking smiley face. A smiley face. I could’ve written a whole novella in that amount of time. With a plot and everything.

What Are We Even So Afraid Of?

Seriously though—what is the actual worst-case scenario?

You launch your website and a link is broken. Okay. You fix it.
You try watercolor painting and your flowers look like wet ghost pancakes. Big whoop.
You go on a date and accidentally spill water on your pants and it looks like you peed. That one’s…embarrassing, sure. But you survive. You laugh. You turn it into a story later. Maybe even a blog post.

Fear makes everything seem huge and final. But in reality? Most mistakes are just little speedbumps. They don’t mean you’re a failure. They mean you’re doing stuff. And that’s so much better than standing on the sidelines in a bubble of self-doubt.

Little Kids Don’t Worry About This Crap

You ever watch a toddler try to walk? They fall, like, a thousand times. They don’t cry about being “bad at walking.” They just face-plant, giggle, and try again. Sometimes with a half-chewed cracker in hand. Iconic behavior, honestly.

But somewhere along the way, we learn shame. We learn to measure ourselves against others. We get report cards, performance reviews, follower counts. Mistakes become something to dread instead of something to learn from.

It’s such a trap.

Here’s What Helps Me

When I catch myself in mistake-fear-mode, I ask: “Okay, but what if it goes right?”

Because weirdly enough, fearing failure is also fearing success. If you never try, you never fail. But you also never win. You never surprise yourself. You never have those weird, scrappy, beautiful moments of figuring it out on the fly.

Also—rumor has it that Thomas Edison reportedly failed over 1,000 times before inventing the lightbulb? Imagine if he gave up because he was afraid to mess up filament number 762. We’d still be bumping into furniture after sunset.

So Yeah….I’m Still Figuring It Out

So here’s my hot take, straight from the caffeine-rattled heart: Let yourself screw up.

Messy is okay. Awkward is normal. Trying and failing and learning loudly is human.

Don’t let the fear of imperfection keep you from living. Make the weird art. Write the bad poem. Tell the dumb joke. Launch the project even if it’s not “ready.” (Nothing’s ever really ready.)

Because honestly? The only real mistake is letting fear boss you around.

P.S. If you made a mistake today? Congrats. You’re alive and doing things. 10 points to you!


If you enjoy time travel stories, you might want to check out A Touch of Cedar. It’s a gay-themed story about ghosts, betrayal and murder.

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No TV, No Problem

Young man sitting in Living Room, Television is off

People sometimes look at me like I’ve just confessed to eating soup with a fork when I tell them: I don’t really watch TV. Not in a snobby, “I don’t even own a television” way (I do own one, thank you very much—it sits there like a patient dog waiting for me to throw it a bone). It’s just that, well… I never seem to get around to actually watching it.

mean to. I have the best of intentions. My Netflix queue is like one of those bottomless pit myths, the kind where every time you toss something in, it echoes endlessly into the void. I’ve got shows saved from, like, three years ago, all bright-eyed and eager for me to hit play. And yet, somehow, I blink and a month has passed. I swear my evenings get eaten by a time gremlin.

The Question Everyone Asks

Whenever I casually drop that I don’t watch much TV, people always give me that look—you know the one—like I just admitted to never having tried pizza. Then comes the inevitable:

“But what do you do all night if you’re not watching TV?”

Cue my awkward shrug. Because apparently, for a lot of folks, TV is the default mode once dinner is over. For me, though, evenings are my playground. I read. I write. I poke around with story ideas, get lost in research tangents (the number of rabbit holes I’ve gone down about 1930s slang would shock no one who knows me). That’s where my hours vanish.

And honestly? I kind of love that. When I was still working full time, people used to ask me all the time how I managed to find hours in the day to write novels. The answer has always been the same: no TV. That little trade-off is my secret sauce.

Not Anti-TV (Promise)

Here’s the thing: I’m not anti-television. I’m not out here waving a banner that says “Down With Streaming.” I actually like TV. I’ll fall down the rabbit hole of a good series just like anyone else. I mean, when I finally sat down and binged Stranger Things, I resurfaced days later looking like I’d been living in the Upside Down myself.

The problem is, for me, TV is too easy to push aside. Reading a book feels urgent because the stack by my bed is taller than me at this point. Writing feels urgent because, well, my characters won’t shut up until I get their stories down. But TV? I tell myself, “I’ll get to it later.” And then later turns into never.

My “Someday Queue”

Here’s the embarrassing confession: my Netflix queue has become more like a graveyard. Shows I swore I’d watch “soon” are now on season six, and I’m still parked at episode one. The longer I wait, the more intimidating it gets. Like, can I really commit to six seasons of something when I can barely manage my laundry?

Still, there are a couple series I’m determined to tackle. At this point, I might need to go full Type-A and actually pencil “watch two episodes” into my planner, right between “buy groceries” and “revise chapter ten.” Imagine scheduling TV like it’s a dentist appointment. But hey, maybe that’s the only way I’ll ever get around to it.

Why I Don’t Feel Guilty

Some people get defensive when I say I don’t watch TV, like I’m silently judging them for enjoying it. I’m not. Honestly, if TV is your thing—amazing. We all need a way to unwind. My way just happens to look like flipping pages or pounding away at a keyboard until my wrists complain.

For me, there’s something ridiculously satisfying about closing my laptop after an evening of writing and knowing I’ve got a chapter more than I had yesterday. Or finishing a book and adding it to my “read” shelf (which, let’s be real, is the only competition I’ll ever win: me vs. my own never-ending TBR). That kind of payoff just feels better to me than catching up on the latest season of whatever’s trending.

That said, I’m not giving up on TV altogether. Maybe one night I’ll actually sit down, remote in hand, and finally watch one of those shows collecting dust in my queue. But until then, I’ll keep doing what I do—filling my evenings with words instead of episodes. And if people still think that’s weird… well, they’re probably not wrong.

My Ghost Oracle Box Set (Nick Michelson) is now available from your favorite online retailer in ebook format.

Books 1-3: https://books2read.com/u/mBKOAv

Boox 4-6 https://books2read.com/u/mVxr2l

Ghost Oracle Box Set covers

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The Man Purse: My New Best Friend

stylish young man between 18-24 wearing a brown square man-purse

Okay, so today I wanna make a quick little post and talk about the man purse. Or, as I like to think of it, my portable life-support system.

For years, I was that guy with the big, clunky backpack. You know the kind—it’s basically a fabric black hole where items go to vanish. Need your bus pass? Good luck spelunking through granola bar crumbs and tangled headphones. By the time you find it, the bus has left, you’ve broken a sweat, and your dignity is in question.

Then one day, I decided to downsize. I ditched the backpack and bought this neat little square bag—a “man purse,” if you will. And let me tell you, I have never looked back. This thing is like Mary Poppins’ carpet bag, but way cooler. I can fit my entire daily survival kit in there: money, keys, credit cards, hand sanitizer, extra pills, pepper spray (because you never know who’s lurking out there), bus pass, inhaler, and my phone charger. That’s it. That’s the whole mobile command center.

And the best part? I’m not constantly hunched over like I’m carrying a sack of bricks to Mordor. My shoulders have forgiven me. My sanity has returned. I don’t have to awkwardly dig for my wallet at checkout like I’m trying to unearth a fossil. I just unzip, grab, done. Smooth as butter.

Honestly, I don’t even remember life before it. What did I do? Shove everything in my pockets like a raccoon storing snacks for the winter? Carry things in my hands like some medieval peasant? It’s baffling to me now.

So yeah—if you’re on the fence about getting one, I say just do it. You’ll look put-together, you’ll stay organized, and you won’t throw your back out trying to find your ChapStick.

Alright, that’s my unsolicited man purse manifesto.

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The Little Things That Make Life Big

a good-looking young man rushing about

You know that feeling when you’re rushing around, trying to juggle a million things at once, and then—bam!—you stop and realize you haven’t really enjoyed any of it? I was having one of those “go-go-go” days when I stumbled upon this quote:
“Enjoy the little things in life … for one day you’ll look back and realize they were the big things.” – Unknown.

At first, I kind of brushed it off. I mean, life’s busy, right? Who has time to slow down? But then, the more I thought about it, the more I realized—this quote is a total game-changer.

We’re so obsessed with big milestones—getting that promotion, finishing a book, traveling to the dream destination—things that feel like they define our success or happiness. But what about all the stuff in between? The tiny, almost forgettable moments that happen while we’re on our way to those big things?

I’m talking about the morning cup of coffee that’s just perfect. The kind where the steam curls up, filling the room with that rich, comforting aroma. Or when you’re walking down the street and the sun hits you in just the right way, warming your face like a big, invisible hug. Yeah, those moments.

I know, I know, it sounds a little corny, but I swear, when you really start paying attention, you notice these little things all around you. And suddenly, your day doesn’t feel as rushed. It’s like you’ve hit “pause” and you get a moment to just breathe.

Here’s the thing, though. Life has this weird way of speeding by, right? One minute, you’re planning your week, and the next, it’s already the weekend and you feel like you haven’t fully experienced the days in between. For me, there’s this urge to always be “productive,” to tick things off the to-do list, and it’s easy to forget about those small moments that don’t seem like they matter in the grand scheme of things.

But when you do take a step back, you realize those are the moments that make up life. Think about it—how often do we catch ourselves laughing at something silly? Or remember the last time someone gave you an unexpected compliment? It’s those little slices of joy that sneak into our everyday routine, and they end up being the things you remember when you look back.

I can’t help but think of my favorite bookshops (you know, the cozy ones that smell like old pages and coffee). I’ve spent hours wandering through those aisles, with no real agenda except to get lost in the stories. The quiet hum of the shop, the soft shuffle of pages, the smell of aged paper—it’s one of those things that makes my soul happy. It’s nothing huge, but when I look back, I think that’s what I’ll remember: not the big trips I’ve taken, but the small, peaceful moments spent with a book and a coffee in hand.

And here’s another one—pets. Okay, I think back to when I used to have my cat, but those little moments when he would hop on my lap and snuggles up for no reason other than he felt like it—that is pure bliss. It doesn’t get more simple than that, but when I think about the kind of comfort I’ll look back on years from now? That’s it.

You might be thinking, “But how can these things really matter in the long run?” Well, that’s exactly why they do. They’re the things that make us feel connected to ourselves, to others, to the world around us. These tiny little moments fill in the spaces between the “big things.” They’re the ones that give you that warm, fuzzy feeling when you’re remembering your past.

The truth is, we often get caught up in thinking life is all about the major milestones. It’s like we’re so focused on reaching the “big stuff” that we forget the little moments are what build the foundation for our happiness. One day, you might look back and realize that the happiness wasn’t just in the big achievements—it was in the way the rain smelled after a storm or how your favorite song made you feel on a random Tuesday. It’s those moments that add up and build your story.

So, here’s my challenge to you (and myself): Start paying attention to the little things. Don’t wait until it’s too late to realize what you had. Take a pause, notice the details, and let yourself really feel them. Whether it’s a shared laugh with a friend, the feeling of soft sheets on your skin at the end of a long day, or the quiet moment when you’re staring out at the sunset—you’ll realize that these little things, in all their simplicity, are actually what makes life big.

At least, that’s what I’m telling myself the next time I’m rushing through my day.

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