Dancing in Rio

1:12 a.m.
Don’t ask me why I’m outside right now, because I really should be asleep, especially since I have an early morning. I’m going to see the Christ the Redeemer statue in Rio, Brazil. That tells you where I am, but it doesn’t fully capture how excited I am to see another wonder of the world. I am very, very excited about that.

Someone asked me what my next travel goal would be, seeing as I’ve now been to 40 countries just before my 35th birthday. I said I want to see the remaining wonders of the world before my 40th birthday. The old and the new wonders of the world before the next decade of my life feels like the right challenge.

Right now, I’m walking back to my hotel room holding food from McDonald’s and a place called Fat Guys. I couldn’t fully trust either one of them to deliver exactly what I wanted, but considering how cheap it is to get food here, I figured McDonald’s is dependable to a certain degree. You usually know what you’re going to get with them. Fat Guys had great ratings online and seemed cool, so I decided to give it a shot. Between the two of them, I’m hoping this turns into a solid midnight meal.

I also stopped by the pharmacy to grab some water. What feels most interesting about tonight isn’t the wandering itself, but the reminder that I truly enjoy finding time to connect with myself when I travel. Mostly when I’m outside the country. I get excited about trying new things and new foods, and while I didn’t fully lean into that tonight since I ended up at McDonald’s, I’m glad I still made the effort to explore.

Travel has a way of humbling you. At the restaurant, I was trying to communicate with the staff, and everyone was speaking Portuguese. I knew absolutely nothing. I just stood there trying to explain what I wanted. At one point, I was desperately trying to get this guy to understand that I wanted extra sweet and sour sauce. Eventually, I realized he wasn’t refusing me. You simply have to pay for the sauce, and even if you’ve already purchased some, you still have to pay for more.

It was such a small moment, but it made me pause. As well-traveled and adaptable as I like to think I am, I’m still a stranger in someone else’s world. In their minds, they might be wondering why I don’t know their language or why I can’t communicate more easily. Meanwhile, I’m standing there trying to figure out how to express myself clearly just to get what I need and move on.

If you know me, you know I believe there’s no point in complaining about things you have the power to change. So I’ve decided I’m going to learn Spanish this year. I’ve heard it transfers well to Portuguese. I’ve also done some groundwork with French, which might be easier to pick back up, but Spanish feels more practical, especially since I plan to explore more of South America.

It’s actually wild to think that out of the 40 countries I’ve visited, most have been in North America and Europe, with a handful in Africa. I really haven’t explored South America much, and I’m genuinely excited to change that. Brazil is just the beginning. Chile, Peru, and more are definitely on the list. It’s shaping up to be a good year.

I’ll probably continue this blog post before I publish it… or maybe I won’t. For now, I just wanted to get these thoughts down while the moment is still fresh.

Manufacturing Happiness and Choosing Peace

Is it impossible to imagine that you’ve used the phrase “fake it till you make it” before? Most of us have. In many cases, we’re told to fake it till we make it as a way to influence our subconscious to believe something that isn’t yet our reality. Today, we call it manifesting, the cooler and more modern label.

But I can’t say I ever manifested this moment.

Walking through a park less than 100 yards from the beach in Brazil, listening to children play and watching families spend quality time together, I feel at peace. I feel happy.

I’m floating on a cloud right now, figuratively, of course. I’m not actually on a cloud, but you get the point. Truthfully, I feel blessed to be in this space and to have the ability to choose to be here. Now, that Amex Platinum bill next month might be a different conversation, but for this moment, there’s comfort in simply enjoying where I am.

It makes me think about happiness and how many of us misunderstand it. I believe a certain type of person has to manufacture happiness from within. You have to decide what happiness looks like for you and then actively pursue it. It won’t be handed to you, and it rarely comes easily. You have to determine the type of life you want and what is required for you to feel fulfilled.

Yes, sometimes you have to fake it until you make it, but more importantly, you have to be intentional about it. Intentional to a fault. Not just calculated in how you move toward happiness, but laser-focused on creating pockets in your life that make you feel alive.

That’s something I want to do more of this year. I’ve improved at it as I’ve gotten older. I’ve become better at recognizing the spaces that make me feel happy and grounded. But I still have moments where I lose focus. I wait until I’m overwhelmed before I act. I wait until my back is tight before I schedule a massage. I wait until I feel claustrophobic before booking a trip. I wait until guilt creeps in before calling certain friends or family members, even though I know those connections bring me joy.

It’s in my best interest to build happiness into my daily life and create routines that allow me to experience it more often.

As I watch people move around while preparing to ride up Sugarloaf Mountain in Rio de Janeiro, I want you to think about the top three things that make you happy. Look at your life and identify those three things. Then ask yourself how intentional you are about building at least one of them into your daily life and all three into your weekly or biweekly routine.

Maybe it’s spending time with friends, family, or your community. Maybe it’s going outside, working out, or simply carving out time for yourself. Whatever it is, make space for it regularly.

I hope to feel as happy as I do in this moment throughout this year and beyond. How realistic that is, given adulthood and the state of the world, is debatable. But what is within my control is scheduling time that prioritizes me and keeps me connected to my core. I hope you do the same this year.

I also want to take a moment to say thank you. Thank you to everyone who reads this blog and shares space with my thoughts. An even bigger thank you to everyone who sent birthday wishes last week. I pray that we all experience happiness and joy in good health and sound mind throughout this year.

This is our third post of the year, and we’re only about five and a half weeks in. We’ve missed a couple of weeks, but we’re doing well. I do want to get better at scheduling posts ahead of time, though that’s challenging because I often wait to see if a new or more pressing thought surfaces that I want to share.

There are things I’ve tweeted about that I considered expanding on here, but honestly, I’m choosing to focus forward. I haven’t been perfect in any phase of my life, and I know there is always room for growth. What I have decided, however, is to prioritize spaces that make me feel safe and keep my nervous system at ease.

It has also reinforced something I’ve quietly believed: most people operate with some form of self-interest. That may sound cynical, but it feels realistic. Still, I want this post to remain rooted in happiness, so I’ll save that deeper conversation for another time.

What I will say is this: be good and do good because you genuinely want to be good. If the good you do is tied to an expectation of return, whether internal or external, it often stops being genuine. It might feel good in the moment, but if the outcome doesn’t match your expectations and you feel the need to remind people of what you did for them, that says more than the original act ever could.

How you respond when things don’t go your way is often more revealing than how you behave when everything is perfect.

Maybe I’ll revisit that topic later. Or maybe this version of me leaves it here because I’d rather bask in the peace, joy, and serenity I’m experiencing right now. That feels far more important.

With that, I’m closing this post by saying welcome to my new year and my birthday season. I’m officially celebrating my birthday for the entire month of February. I’ve never done that before since my birthday falls at the end of January, but we’re evolving. Starting next year, I’m extending it even further. January becomes my birth month, beginning January 2nd because I’ll respectfully leave January 1st for gratitude and reflection. From January 2nd through the first week of February, it’s my season.

I’ll hopefully see you next week with my 2025 review. Saying that out loud might help me commit to actually writing it. I’ll also be sharing photos from my trip to Brazil. If you want to see more, head over to my social media.

Until next time, stay up.

Please leave me a comment, repost and share. Thank you for your continued support.
You are highly appreciated.

#WordsOfWednesday

© 2026 #WhatTheHeckMan

I’ve always wondered about the concept of your life flashing before your eyes. I never understood it.
It didn’t seem feasible or likely that, at the exact moment of impact, our mind has the capacity to immediately deliver a perfected carousel of your life’s highlights.

A few hours before I started writing this, someone asked me, how would you describe your 2025?
I honestly and simply replied, “It was a good year. Good things happened to people I love around me, and for me, that was a good year.”
Almost verbatim.
It was a good year.

I have never had a year where I beckoned the coming year. I’ve just never been that type of person.
And I am still not that person as I write this. But as I worshipped in church today, my hands lifted up and tears streamed down my face, it flashed.

Not every single moment, but a handful of pivotal ones.
I remember driving from Austin to Dallas in record time because the person I love the most in the world was being rushed to the hospital.
Or when I knew I shouldn’t have gone to Houston and was microseconds away from being T-boned.
Did I forget the numerous moments that could have easily become a Final Destination moment?

Sometimes you have a “good year,” and sometimes you have a GOD year.
I won’t mislead you with a faux deep breakdown about how it was this year that I found God more and what not, but His hand was all over the year.
I would randomly walk out of the house and just say, “Thank you, God.”
The year felt like a constant opportunity to give gratitude, to be in gratitude.

I don’t know how I could have done this year without God, and I simply couldn’t have.
The grace was constant, the blessings evident, the mercy consistent, His kindness present, and His forgiveness never distant.
I am grateful for the sound of reconcilable love and the recognizable voice of God.
There is something about knowing that God’s love is secure.My life has been a big thank you for fighting my battles for me and thank you for not leaving me to the wishes of my enemies or my own bad decisions.

So how was 2025?
It was moving. It felt fast but full.
The spaces that filled me with love and laughter. Celebrations that required short drives and TSA lines.
The ability to love on the people that I care about and hold space.

I’m in church, seated next to the person I came into 2025 with, and that itself is the grace of God.
It is not by our power, because we have seen people more careful than us, but He continues to find grace for us.
I am grateful for 2025.

2026 is what you make it to be.
Ask for grace. For favor.
Alignment.
Mercy.
If you are reading this right now, you’re either at church, a club, or back in the US or Canada, waiting for time for church.
In 2026, we don’t go again.

We grow again.

We stay rooted and committed to what we have been commended to.

For every single person that read a line of my heart this year, thank you.
You made the year so much easier to flow in.
Is this the year I return to full consistency with sharing my art?
I think so.
We have so much to take ownership of in 2026, and I shall have what I decree.

Here’s to an amazing year. I’ll see you soon.

I love you all.
Till next time, stay up!

The Wordsmith.❤️

⸻

I’ve just gotten off a call that took me almost 30 minutes to end.
I’m currently sitting at the edge of my bed, staring down at my white socks covering my black knee-length socks.
Yes, I wear two pairs sometimes — especially in the winter.
I get cold easily. My feet, that is, not my heart. That one stays warm. Sometimes lukewarm, but never cold. And when it gets hot, it gets hot.
But this particular post isn’t really about my heart… maybe a little bit, maybe a lot. I don’t know. We’ll find out together.

It’s another Wednesday.
I believe this might be my third Wednesday in a row posting on my blog, which makes me very happy. I need to cook — finish cooking, actually — because I have some travel coming up and I need to pack. Normally I’d have started packing early, but since it’s a short weekend trip and the outfits are already decided by the events, it’s easier to pack later.

But I wanted to talk a little about my heart and what I’ve been feeling — not in the way you may expect. So pay attention, stay close, and welcome to another Words on Wednesday with your gracious host, The Wordsmith. Writing that out actually made me think… huh, I really need to bring my podcast back.
So is that a 2025 thing I can still make happen, or will it be early 2026?

I’ve been thinking — especially on International Men’s Day — about what it means to be a man. People love to throw out terms like “provider” and “protector,” but I think there’s so much more to being a man, and even more to being a good man. So let’s go through some of the things I’ve been reflecting on.

The heart can carry so much. I’ve realized I hold in a lot in the name of protecting or caring for those around me. My voice is often silenced, and that’s an incredible burden — carrying the weight of other people’s feelings because of their behavior. How come no one thinks about how unfair that is?

So yes, I bite my tongue when I should speak, because sometimes it doesn’t feel worth the aftermath. A few weeks ago, I wrote that people often want to “talk things out” simply because they don’t want to do the work of thinking on their own. People pour out energy because someone else refuses to sit with themselves and say, “Maybe I’m the one messing up.”

A lot of men, like myself, are required to be silent about what we truly feel. It’s expected — you’re supposed to just eat it. I’ve never understood this idea that men are meant to move through the world as if we’re always wrong. Maybe some people believe that, maybe there’s a little truth in it, but it’s not something I’m accepting as fact.

As I go into this next year, it’s important that I approach the world with a sense of duty — not just to others, not just to people I care about, but a duty to myself. A duty to say, “No, I will not burden myself with this or that.” I deserve that. I truly do.
I want to pour more energy into that in the coming year, to make sure I’m approaching this phase of adulthood differently.

Being a man, to me, is also understanding your triggers — the obvious ones and the quiet ones that creep in. It’s being able to acknowledge where the world has hurt or failed you, but also choosing to be more than what the world gave you. We owe that to ourselves. I owe that to me. You owe that to you.

Being a man is nurturing healthy relationships, creating healthy communities, and building spaces where you can be the best kind of man you can be. It’s standing on your integrity even when challenges come. It’s saying, “This is who I am,” and not wavering at your core.

It’s also recognizing where responsibility is required of you — not to be silent, not to be passive, not to simply accept what’s handed to you, but to step into the void and be more for those around you. Many of you are gifted, blessed in ways you see and in ways you don’t. But many of us wait for the perfect moment to be impactful.

People tell me all the time, “Oh, what you’re doing with your give-back is so cool. I’d love to do something like that, but I haven’t found the opportunity.” And I always say: the first year, we started with five kids. Five. Now we stand in rooms with dozens. It wasn’t from chasing perfection — it was from starting. One day became two, two became three, and suddenly we were impacting kids across cities, across levels of life.

There’s a kid in your YMCA. There’s a kid in your church. They could use your insight, your confidence, your lens. Why hold that back?

Being a man is about kindness — not just kindness to the world, but kindness to yourself. Many of us were raised to be extremely critical of ourselves. We need to remind ourselves that we are not just worthy, but deserving. You deserve someone who sees you, who cares for you, who holds space for you. You deserve that. We deserve that.

Being a man is not just about the small pockets you occupy — it’s also about the big ones. It’s about stepping into spaces that remind you that you are valuable, important, and defined.

Please don’t believe that being a man means carrying all the weight alone. One thing I intend to work on next year is asking for help. Asking for help has been extremely difficult for me — not because I don’t want help, but because I’ve been let down so many times, even by well-intentioned people.
It’s caused heartache to realize I couldn’t rely on people I cared about. But it’s something I can improve on. Something I should do better with. I need to ask for help.

This is the busiest, most demanding period of my life so far — and I don’t even have kids. What happens when I do? I don’t want to think about that right now, but you get my point. We can do more for ourselves. We should do more with ourselves.

So before this month ends, do something fun for you. Get a massage. Take a walk. Buy yourself something nice. Black Friday is around the corner — take advantage.
Do something that reminds you your existence is not just to provide and protect.
It is to live.
It is to laugh.
It is to be hugged and to hug.
It is to love and to be loved.
It is to give and to be received.
It is to build, expand, deepen, strengthen, amplify.
Your existence is for joy.

You are a man. And today, and every day, I salute you for doing your part — for doing just a little more to become the man you want to be and the man beyond that.

Till we speak again, keep your head up. My heart is with you. My thoughts are with you.
You fully deserve to be happy.

Happy International Men’s Day. ❤️

Please leave me a comment, repost and share. Thank you for your continued support.
You are highly appreciated.

#WordsOfWednesday

© 2025 #WhatTheHeckMan

“Ki lo n wa kiri?”

— What Are You Looking for All Over the Place?

Growing up, you would hear your mom, caregiver, auntie, or uncle say, “Ki lo n wa kiri?” — which in Yoruba means, “What are you looking for all over the place?” It’s usually said when you’re being scattered, disoriented, or not paying attention.

That phrase applies deeply to this moment in my life — as I think about the pain, heartbreak, and frustration I’ve experienced in adulthood, whether romantically or in platonic situations.

Recently, as I approached the end of my yearly self-review — which I highly encourage everyone to do — I began reflecting on my goals, ambitions, and the conversations I’ve had with myself. While heartbreak, frustration, pain, joy, and loss have all been recurring themes this year, I’ve realized that much of my heartache came from ignoring my inner voice.

I’m at an age now where I know myself well. I can tell quickly if someone or something deserves a place in my life. I can also tell when something or someone is just a placeholder — a distraction from doing genuine healing.

There were seasons in my past where I stumbled from one situation to another, more focused on staying busy than getting better. But this year, I’ve truly embraced solitude. I’ve learned to sit with myself, to reflect deeply on who I am and who I want to become.

It’s not enough to write down goals or talk about growth — execution matters. You owe it to yourself to give your future self the best chance possible. As I reviewed this year, I realized I don’t need to apologize for certain interactions or spaces. If anything, I owe it to myself to step away from places and people that don’t uplift me or bring me closer to my goals.

If you take one thing away from this blog, let it be this:
Whatever action you’re about to take, ask yourself —
Does it get me closer or farther from my goals?
Does it give me clarity, confirmation, or guidance?
If not, maybe it’s time to start healing and pulling yourself out of that space.

It’s so easy to just exist — to tolerate “good enough.” But I did a personal audit recently and realized there’s an area of my life where I’ve settled. I’ve tolerated situations that didn’t bring me comfort or care because I felt I wasn’t good enough. That ends now.

As I move into the summer of 2026, I’m holding myself even more accountable. I’ve noticed how often I’m tired — stretched in directions I don’t need to be. I need to be in spaces that pour into me and remind me of my worth.

I’m currently on a weight-loss cut — part of a journey I’ve been on for a few years. It’s had its ups and downs, but one truth has remained: I’m committed to my evolution. I’ve said it before — discipline is one of the greatest acts of self-love. Discipline is a love letter to your future self. It’s saying, “I love you enough to sacrifice today’s comfort so you can thrive tomorrow.”

Someone recently asked if I’d ever consider surgery or weight-loss aids like Ozempic. Honestly, I’ve had moments of temptation — it’s hard not to when you see others take shortcuts. But there’s something powerful about proving your love to yourself through the work.

This week alone, two strangers complimented me — saying I’m slimming down and looking stronger. External validation is nice, but internal confirmation is everything. When I look in the mirror, I know I worked for this. I prayed, sacrificed, and stayed disciplined to become who I am today.

That’s what I mean when I talk about love letters to your future self.

I’ve said before (I think I have) that I want my kids to have the most well-rounded dad possible. I love my father deeply — he’s one of the smartest, most grounded men I know. He taught me what depth looks like. I always say, drop my dad anywhere in the world and he’ll connect with people instantly. I love that about him — and I’ve picked that up too.

But I want to take it further. I want my kids to inherit a graduated version of that. As I write this, I’m approaching 40 countries visited in 34 years — something my dad never had the chance to do. That’s progress.

My dad’s stories are about sourcing materials in Argentina, managing production lines in Italy, and building a business from the ground up after sending himself to school in Manchester. He also passed down our shared love for Manchester United — and yes, we’re starting to win again. You’ve all been warned.

This journey — of growth, travel, and self-reflection — is my love letter to my wife, my kids, my extended family, and my community. I love when people call on me for knowledge or support. It’s important to keep investing in myself so I can continue to pour into others.

What is one way you are writing a love letter to your future self?

So back to the surgery conversation — I thought about it, I considered it. But I’m committed to doing the work. The only “surgery” I’ve joked about is maybe something cosmetic down the line (a little platelet boost so the abs show faster), but truthfully, I’m too dedicated to this process to skip steps.

I want to look back one day and say, “I built this.”
I want my wife and kids to see me and believe they can conquer anything — because their father did.

This isn’t just about having the best body or money or stamps in my passport. I want it all to be authentic.

This morning, as I got ready for the gym, I burst into praise and worship. I thought about how much I love my parents and how that ritual — morning worship — shaped me. Growing up, we’d all sing together, and as we got older, we each took turns leading. It taught me confidence, gratitude, and reverence.

I can’t wait to give that same experience to my own kids — to raise them in love, faith, and self-awareness.

So today, ask yourself:
What kind of love letter are you writing to your future self?
What conversations will your future self thank you for?

Remember, this is a process. Evolution takes time. Don’t cut corners. Don’t forget — you deserve the best version of you, even before the rest of the world meets that person.

Till next time, stay up.

Thank you for reading!



Please leave me a comment, repost and share. Thank you for your continued support.
You are highly appreciated.

#WordsOfWednesday

© 2025 #WhatTheHeckMan

Morning Thoughts: Procrastination, Self-Conversation, and the Weight of Being “The One”

Good morning, y’all — or maybe good afternoon, good evening, or hello from wherever in the world you’re reading this. I sometimes forget that I’m blessed to have people who read my work or watch my content from all over the world. I need to start acting like it again because, for a second, I think I forgot.

Anyway, it’s morning as I write this. I’m trying to decide what to wear to work. I hadn’t planned to go into the office today, but there’s a company-wide event being televised locally, and I figured I’d go in to support.

Truth be told, I haven’t been going in much lately. Between meetings, reports, and projects, I’ve been swamped. And if you’re anything like me — social, popular, or just someone people like catching up with — your productivity drops when you’re in the office. I get so much done in terms of community-building and connection, but I end up back home in the evening catching up on actual work, which isn’t ideal.

Most days I prefer my rhythm: gym, then work, then unwind. But today’s different.

Don’t Let Procrastination Win

Last night before bed, I debated whether to wash the dishes. I was exhausted — hadn’t eaten all day (don’t judge me). I wanted to skip it and just do them in the morning. And sometimes, that’s okay. I’m not here to preach absolutes.

But I told myself: “Yes, you could do it in the morning… or you could just do it now and wake up with one less thing to do.”
You can probably guess which option I chose.

Ten, maybe fifteen minutes later, the dishes were done. I didn’t feel like it mattered at the time — I was just doing it, slightly annoyed. But this morning? I woke up thankful. That little act of not giving in to procrastination changed the tone of my morning.

Small wins matter.

Sometimes the thing you’ve been avoiding takes way less time or energy than you think. I’ve learned to apply that same mentality to work — to just start, even when it feels inconvenient.

So here’s my word for you today:
Look around your space. Is there something you’ve been punting down the road? Do it. Start small. Get it off your list. Clear the weight of “later.”

The Lost Art of Talking to Yourself

I’ve noticed that a lot of people love talking about things — not necessarily to understand them, but because they don’t know how to have conversations with themselves.

Now, don’t get me wrong — talking things out is healthy. But sometimes people rely on external conversations to do the internal work they’ve been avoiding.

Me? I talk to myself about everything. Decisions I make and don’t make. What I said, what I didn’t say. How I show up. Why I react the way I do. I interrogate my own mind constantly.

So when some people want to “process” something with me, I sometimes find it exhausting — not because I don’t care, but because I’ve already had that conversation internally. I already know my blind spots, my lapses, my growth edges.

Too often, people use conversations as the first real time they’re confronting their truth. And that’s why those conversations feel so heavy — because they haven’t done the pre-work with themselves.

So before you start another long “we need to talk” session, ask yourself:
Have I already said everything I need to say to myself?
Have I sat with the root — the why behind the feeling — or am I outsourcing my self-reflection?

True conversations are powerful when both people have already done their inner work. Otherwise, you end up talking in circles with someone who’s still discovering what you’ve already processed.

The Weight of Being “The One”

Yesterday, I was on a call with a close friend and felt this wave of anxiety and irritation wash over me. Lately, I’ve noticed I’m not as excited to interact with people. Human interaction feels… heavy.

It’s not that I don’t love people — I do. But I’m tired.

I was talking to another friend about their family situation, and a thought crossed my mind: Who’s going to save you?

Because honestly, sometimes God is all we have. And that’s not just a phrase — it’s reality.

I’ve had countless conversations about my career and future, but at the end of the day, I always circle back to the same truth: if something goes wrong, it’s on me to fix it.

That realization is both sobering and motivating. It saddens me because I know I don’t have that safety net that some people have — the family that pays for college, buys the first car, funds the first business. I used to envy that.

Now I just want to make sure my future kids don’t feel that same void.

Still, it’s exhausting. It feels like every time my phone rings, it’s someone needing something — help, advice, money, support. Rarely do people call to pour into me.

And that’s not bitterness speaking; it’s just honesty. Two things can be true: I can love being there for people and still feel drained by the imbalance.

I’ve watched how men — strong, capable men — end up in strange, painful situations, and I get it now. Sometimes we just want to feel seen. We crave spaces that recognize us. And when the people we love don’t see us, we drift toward environments that do — even if they’re not healthy ones.

I’m grateful I’ve learned to recognize that need before it traps me. I never want to chase being seen in the wrong place just because I’m unseen in the right one.

Final Thought

Have you ever dated someone who seemed to be pushing you to break up with them?
They go cold, stop engaging, stop building, ignore your messages, your effort, your energy — almost like they’re daring you to call it quits?

If you’ve ever been in that situation, I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

Anyway — it feels good to be back. Sorry this one ran long; clearly, I had a few things on my mind. I need to get better at scheduling posts because when I try to write on the day of, real life always catches up.

But until I figure that out — here’s another submission from my brain.

Take care of yourself.
Prioritize your mental health.
You deserve a love that’s loud, intentional, and rooted in care — not convenience.
And I hope you find it. But more importantly, I hope you are that kind of love for others too.

Till next time,

Eniiwaju.

I am currently sitting on my couch in my living room and have spent the better part of the evening here. It is 1:38 a.m., and I’m about to have a scoop or two scoops of ice cream and a cookie—one of the best cookies I’ve ever had in my life.

They’re from Sweet Charlie’s in Austin, Texas. I love them. I specifically go to the farmer’s market every week, or every couple of weeks—because sometimes I buy in bulk—to grab them.

Anyways, the reason why I brought up the cookies is because it’s late.
I had dinner probably at about 8:30. It was a late dinner because I was working, plus I had to make dinner.

I had Indomie and a very random thing. For as much as I can cook and as much as I’ve been cooking for years, Indomie and frying eggs have not been my strong suits—up until recently. My egg game is so much better than it used to be.

My best friend seems to think that his eggs are the best, but he needs to try my new and improved version. We stopped living together a little over 18 months ago, and in that time, I’ve gotta say, I can give him a run for his money. But you know, he doesn’t want to see me out on these streets. That being said, I am about to have dessert—a very late dessert—but before I do that, I’m going to post on my blog. That’s part of the reason why I am staying awake.

I was working, but right before I was about to go to sleep, I realized that it is Wednesday. Even though I have been posting on my blog for the last few weeks, if you haven’t read them, you can read them here.

A lot has happened in the last couple of weeks that I haven’t shared with you guys, so I figured I’d do that before I go to bed. Hopefully, if you get a chance to read this, you’ll let me know your thoughts, share them with me, and we can talk.

The first thing that I want to touch on is the absolute importance of taking care of your light. For a lot of people, that light is in the people we surround ourselves with. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not here to say that there’s no light in us directly—I believe there is—but I also believe that there is magic in the people we keep around us.

Something happened in my family in the last couple of weeks that threatened to take away my light. I actually watched myself become a shadow of who I am, and in many ways, it’s given me better perspective for some of what— and I use that word loosely—some of what my closest friends have experienced in the last couple of years.

I worried. I could not sleep. I prayed. And even that comes with another layer—being faced with trials and tribulations, calling on God, and almost feeling guilty for doing that because then the devil wants you to question yourself and ask: “Did you call on God this frequently when everything was smooth?”

Even that reality, or that challenge, is not something I had fully anticipated going into adulthood, going into this year, and it definitely was something that I had to navigate in the last couple of weeks.

I won’t say much, because honestly there’s not much to say here, and I think for those of you that are sensitive enough—either in mind or in spirit—you can read between the lines and figure out what I’m referencing.

With that, I have to devote more time and more energy to carefully and consistently loving on my people. So, if there’s anything that I can take away from this entire post this week, it’s this: intentionally love your people. Call more. Make more time. Linger more with them. Hug a little bit tighter. Smile back. Send pictures. Take pictures. Keep them alive in your heart and keep them alive in all the things that you do on a daily basis.

Yes, it has been a challenging couple of weeks, but I want to thank those who are close to me—those that knew what was going on, those that remembered to check in, those that care but, you know, life is life-changing for them as well. So thank you to those that remember to check in. I see you. I care. I hope you’re doing well, and I hope that we continue to do well on this side of the aisle as well.

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Well, that was fun! I clocked four years at my job a few weeks ago.

If you had told me when I was getting this job four years ago that I was going to be at this company for four years, I probably would have said yes. I think I’m a loyal person. I have a sense of loyalty, even though I wouldn’t sit here and promise you that I was deeply loyal to any company. But if you add my sense of loyalty to my quest for stability, you can probably understand why I’m the type of employee that, if happy, stays at a company for a while.

It’s also just an added bonus that I really like the people that I work with. The work is fun, the work is challenging, and the work is at the forefront of what is happening in the world today with AI, with improvements and innovations. So it’s an exciting time to do what I do.

It’s an exciting time to be afraid, to be concerned, to lean into AI, to learn more—and that’s what I’m trying to do. I hope that you are doing the same for yourself in the pockets that you occupy as well.

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Hmmmmm. So the heart is very interesting. It’s very complex. It’s so interesting how the heart is just a ridiculously complex contraption. Because not only does it, in a small way, do everything to keep you alive and ticking, it also has a way of humbling you and making you pause for a second.

I did something unintentionally—I don’t know if it was early this week or mid last week, probably late last week. In an attempt to explore something, I posted something that may have given someone—or some people—the wrong impression or the wrong message. It was interesting to me to watch the reactions after that.

But then it got me thinking: Why does the heart do what it does? Why does it know that you deserve so much more than what you have been given, but still connect with certain things or certain people? Why does the heart look at you and say, “Hey, I know you’re afraid, and I know it took you courage to run from here, but oh, how much you miss that space or that place”?

One thing I’m trying to appreciate more and give myself grace for is allowing myself to make mistakes. I’m in the last half of the first half of my thirties. And there’s such a crippling fear of getting it wrong.

I feel like I don’t have time to get it wrong. I don’t have time to make the wrong career move, relationship move, or spiritual move. And it’s not always a case of feeling like I’m going to let God down. Sometimes it’s a case of worrying that I would let myself down—that I would drop all my standards or forget who I am and what I stand for.

Some of it is unfounded, my anxiety. Some of it is my need—not necessarily to be perfect—but my need to not default to imperfection, or be comfortable with imperfection.

So yeah, I put a lot of pressure on myself. And in that instance, I realized there are still parts of my life that I miss. Parts of my life that I wish made more sense. Parts of my life that I wish I could sit down and talk about—with past friends, past lovers, past people.

Life is interesting.

While we’re on this topic, a story I’ll tell you is of a time when I once fell out with a friend, and we didn’t speak to each other for years—only for us to finally speak and the person said, “Oh my God, I’ve been yearning to talk to you for years, I’ve been wanting to say something, I’ve just been afraid.”

And I was sitting here, also crippled with my fear of rejection, not being able to say anything. You know, it shouldn’t have been an email.
It really shouldn’t.
It should have been a sit-down conversation, and maybe my heart wouldn’t have been able to take it. Maybe my heart would have burst out of my chest, or maybe it would have just stopped working.

I don’t know. Maybe I have to forgive myself and tell myself that I did try to communicate, I did try to express, I did try to forgive.

It’s crazy to feel so deeply hurt by someone that you care about or someone that you once held in high regard—and maybe you still hold them in high regard—but you’re just unable to see a pathway to healing.

Maybe I’ve said enough for you to pick your own message in there, because everything I’ve talked about has included platonic relationships, deep romantic relationships, or friendships that I thought would transcend youth, move into wisdom, and blossom into generations. But life happens—and it’s beautiful, chaotic, sad, and painful all in one.

The heart is weird because it maps, it connects, it wants, it longs for the connectivity to the past and the idea of what the future might look like. But none of it is smooth. None of it makes perfect sense. And sometimes you just have to wing it and hope that you’re going to get it right more times than you get it wrong.

Such is life. We meet people, we love them, they love us.
And then they block us or never like our posts for a whole year.
Oddly specific huh? Mind ya businesssss!

_________

I met a woman recently. And it’s interesting that I say that—for those of you who thought you were about to have some kind of “gotcha” moment or whatever, relax, you’re not.

But I met a woman I have been curious about for years, intrigued by for years, and somehow fearful of for years as well—only to meet her and find that not only does she seem to be a truly great person, she just seems like cool vibes.

You ever meet someone you were so sure you wouldn’t get along with, and then you meet them and you’re almost disappointed—not in the person, but in yourself—for being so basic in assuming that you wouldn’t get along with them or that it wouldn’t be a mutually beneficial experience?

We had a conversation, we had some quality time—again, not where you’re going with your mind—but someone to converse about life with, about work, about hobbies, about things like that.

It’s funny that even in that same interaction, to spend time with someone, to be intrigued by the person, they can still remind you that we’re still evolving and learning each other in our own ways. I don’t think I’ve ever had someone genuinely say to me that I was full of myself.

This person said that I give off the vibe that I’m full of myself—either because I “have it together” or appear to have it together. I find that hilarious because, one, I don’t feel like I have it together, and two, where is that coming from?

I strive very, very hard to have it together. It’s the reason I work so hard. It’s the reason I’m up late. It’s the reason I’m trying to deliver this blog post to you before I go to bed. I try not to let my standards drop in terms of the greatness that I show or how I present in the world.

But even in that time—even in having an amazing time and an amazing experience meeting this person and sharing space with them—it’s still a subtle reminder of life: we’re always learning.
We’re always learning each other, always learning ourselves, always evolving.

It was beautiful to have that experience all in one. On one hand, the person was talking and I thought, “Oh my God, we’re so alike on this and this and this.”
Then they said something else and I thought, “Oh yeah, we’re definitely different on that because I’m not thinking like that.”

I like experiencing life like that.

I think the biggest lesson to take away from meeting this person is: don’t let your fears or your perceptions of people hinder you from experiencing new things, new people, new domains. But at the same time, understand that you are evolving artwork.

You’re an evolving masterpiece that won’t look the same to everyone, won’t feel the same to even you sometimes, but you must continue pressing on with who you are and who you’re going to continue to be. Only you know who you truly are and who you’re designing your life to feel and look like.

In the journey you go along, make friends, make lovers, make memories, make time, make space, and be yourself. Enjoy yourself—because you are all you have.

Till we speak again, keep your head up and stay up.

Thank you for reading!



Please leave me a comment, repost and share. Thank you for your continued support.
You are highly appreciated.

#WordsOfWednesday

© 2025 #WhatTheHeckMan

Among all the beautiful things in the world—growth and longevity included—is the concept of grace. I think it’s rooted in empathy, though I don’t believe they’re the same. Embodying empathy allows you to extend more grace to others, but grace stands on its own.

And I don’t always mean grace in the biblical sense. I’m talking about the kind that comes from simply understanding we’re human—our lives will evolve, shift, and fluctuate. Because of that, grace should be a fundamental part of your human currency. Let me tell you a story about how that’s shown up in my life.

A few years ago, one of the biggest tensions between my best friend and me was how often she’d call and I’d be too busy—or too tired—to really talk. From her perspective, it likely felt like I didn’t care, didn’t respect her, or didn’t value our time together. And, honestly, that’s a fair human reaction.

But as we’ve gotten older, the roles have flipped. These days, I’m probably more available than she is. In the time we’ve grown together, she’s switched careers, made a name for herself, and become a key player on her team. There’s more family responsibility on her shoulders now, and understandably, she has less time.

Now I’m the one calling and not getting through. I’m the one missing the connection, looking for that availability, while she’s doing her best—sometimes struggling—to balance everything and still show up for our relationship.

Here’s where grace comes in.

Grace doesn’t keep score. It doesn’t remember old favors so you can cash them in later. It recognizes the ebb and flow of life—the way things shift, the way demands change—and it offers compassion without expectation.

Grace says, I know life is a lot right now, and extends patience without needing anything back. It anticipates stress. It expects change. It accepts that the people we care about will sometimes be out of reach—and still shows up with open hands.

Years ago, I might have read this and not fully understood. Today, I do.

Please comment, repost and share. Thank you for your continued support.
You are highly appreciated.

#WordsOfWednesday

© 2025 #WhatTheHeckMan

Hello, guys. Welcome back — and welcome to the first edition of What the Heck, Man? – Words of Wednesday for the second half of the year.

Yes, for the millionth time: the second half of the year begins in July. Not June. You June folks — please get it together.

The funny thing about this edition that you’re about to read—or hear—is that I’m writing it from a completely unexpected place. I didn’t plan to be here when crafting this particular post. But here we are. Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the mid-year What the Heck Man update.

And honestly, it should probably start with the signature line: What the heck, man? Because… where did the year go? I feel like I just wrapped up the 2024 review a second ago, and now we’re halfway through a new year. So, let’s get into it—here’s a real account of how things have been so far.

If I had to sum it up in one word, I’d say: good. It’s had its turbulent moments, sure, but overall, it’s been steady growth. Some parts of life have gotten a lot clearer, while others have fully closed—or at least been shelved for now.

Physically and mentally, it’s been a grind. Between the gym and making a real effort to get back into therapy, I’ve been putting in the work. But unlike past years, I finally feel like I understand how most of this is supposed to function. And that’s something I’m actually proud of.

There are still a few things I’m figuring out—some pieces that have pushed me to dig deep in ways I hadn’t really acknowledged before. I recently saw a video from my friend Toni, and she said something that stuck with me: it’s easy to think you miss someone—or something—because of hope. But really, a lot of that longing comes from the rush of dysfunction, not the actual person.

When you slow down and start peeling back the layers, you begin to realize you don’t actually miss them. You miss the version of yourself that was still holding on to the potential. That clarity only comes when you sit with yourself long enough to ask the hard questions—and be honest with the answers.

If I leave you with one thought going into the second half of the year, it’s this: hope can be dangerous. Hope without action, growth, or signs of life is a waste. Because eventually, all that effort you pour in can come back empty. And worse still, the person or thing you were hoping for might turn around and say, who asked you to do all that?

So, remember that the next time you feel tempted to overextend yourself or compensate for people who are either unwilling—or maybe just unable—to meet you where you are.

On a brighter note, fitness has been going well. I’ve dropped some weight—not that it’s the main goal—but more importantly, I’ve gotten stronger. I’ve been consistent. And I think it’s finally time I give myself credit for that.

I Met Jacob Banks

In a very random but beautiful twist, I just met Jacob Banks — one of my all-time favorite artists. Top 3 for sure, maybe top 5. I had a full 15-minute conversation with him about music, touring, performing in Nigeria, and more. It was so surreal.

I ran into him while heading to my flight back to the States. We just ended up talking. It was one of those really organic, fulfilling moments that didn’t require a selfie or a picture. The most I did was FaceTime my best friend — who absolutely lost her mind — and she even got to say hi to him too. Wild huh?

Beyond that, the past 24 hours have just been good vibes only. I spent quality time with friends, did cool stuff, and yeah — I’m flying today at 11:20, but was out till 4 a.m., in bed by 5:30, and by then, the sun was already out. No regrets.

Rest Is Productive Too

What stood out most during this trip was prioritizing rest. I made a conscious decision to not open my laptop, to disconnect completely — and it was one of the best things I could’ve done for myself. Just a few hours from now, I’ll get back to it. But for now, I’m holding on to this space.

I traveled through Belgium, Germany, Luxembourg, Albania, and wrapped it up in London. Albania was the last stop before London — and honestly, it was the best leg of the trip for deep rest and true recovery. London, on the other hand, felt like I stepped back into myself — recharged and realigned.

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All in all, I’m just feeling grateful. This mid-year check-in is a reminder to rest, be present, and embrace the unexpected. On to the second half — let’s make it count, shall we?

Are you comfortable being alone?

I don’t mean just being by yourself—I mean sitting in it. The dark. The stillness. The quiet hum of loneliness. The ache of longing. The parts of solitude that aren’t curated for aesthetics or ease. The moments that feel raw, maybe even a little heavy.

One of my best friends told me earlier this year, “You need to get more comfortable being alone.”
At first, it felt like a strange thing to say. I talk to people every day. My job requires it. My life is full of interactions. But here’s the twist: connection doesn’t always equal closeness. And presence doesn’t always mean partnership.

I’ve started to realize that part of the challenge of being human – especially one who loves deeply – is that sometimes, we reach for things we were never meant to hold on to. People. Ideas. Dreams. We cling not out of lack of self-love, but out of habit. Out of hope. Out of the desire to not feel the silence echo back too loudly.

But silence can be sacred.

I’ve also come to understand something hard and humbling: most adult relationships don’t fail because people stop caring. They fail because we stop communicating—clearly, vulnerably, honestly.
Not just with the other person, but with ourselves. We build castles together, brick by brick, dream by dream. But somewhere along the way, the signals get fuzzy. The messages change. And instead of leaning in, we dig our heels. We let ego lead. We take stances. We build walls.

And suddenly, you find yourself sitting across from someone who once felt like home, now needing a translator just to stay in the same room.

So I say this with love:
Sit down. Open up.
Feel it all. Talk through the fear. The misunderstanding. The need.
Let yourself be seen. Let yourself be held.
Choose relationships that can hold both truth and tenderness.
The ones that allow for uncomfortable, foundation-shaking conversations and still choose grace.

Summer is finally here.
And whether I mentioned this in my last post or not—I’ll say it now:
Plan something just for you.

A staycation. A solo trip. A weekend with your best friend. Even if it’s not this summer, book it anyway. Let it be your reminder that you matter too. That your peace is worth protecting. That you don’t have to apologize for putting yourself first—not this time.

You deserve that kind of care.
You deserve that kind of joy.
You deserve you.

Please comment, repost and share. Thank you for your continued support.
You are highly appreciated.

#WordsOfWednesday

© 2025 #WhatTheHeckMan