Two Years (and some other stuff)

what a wonderful world it would be

what a wonderful world it would be

Two years ago today I launched this modest venture I so aptly named That Poor Architect. I had no clue how to create a website. I didn’t know what I was capable of as a writer and was terrified of the possibility of sucking at it. Where would I find inspiration? Would anyone care to read it? What the hell is a WordPress?

All I had was a rough concept, a pinch of confidence, and one great big push to create something that I love.

I owe many thanks to the friends and family who continued to humor me even as I fumbled through some evident growing pains. I always receive feedback from the articles I post (good or bad), all of which is vital to figuring out what works and what gets tossed. So to all of you that have taken the time out of your day to plant your eyes on this website, thank you a thousand times.

I owe one huge debt of gratitude to the person who pushed me to be better. She opened me up to what I was capable of as a writer, a creator and most importantly, a person. This endeavor wouldn’t have made it off the ground if she hadn’t given me the confidence to put myself out there (even if she did become a touch concerned with the frequency with which I was posting).

Thank you, Shawna. I’ll never forget what you helped me discover.

In two years I’ve posted a total of 30 articles and probably half-written more than triple that. It’s not bad, nor is it great. A demanding career coupled with an endless carousel of social gatherings made it difficult to find the effort necessary for producing consistently quality content.

Excuses, excuses right? I’ve been saying for the better part of a year that I want to be a writer, but I’m currently falling short of embracing what it would take to further explore this passion. It’s a scary thought, which almost always means it’s worth doing. Someone once told me, “Don’t be afraid of taking the hard path.” I’ve yet to fully heed this advice, but perhaps it’s time I do.

Switching gears to other life-news, I’ve recently decided to move back to Seattle. It’s a decision that I didn’t take lightly, but ultimately one that came down to two things: family and space. While the first is obvious as I’m sure all of you can understand what it means to be close to the ones you love, the second will need some explaining.

Space is something that I could also equate to peace of mind or an inner calmness – a state of being I’ve lost since moving to San Francisco. Perhaps I lost it before I moved, but I certainly haven’t found it here. I need space to focus on the things that will make me a better person, and ultimately lead a better life. I’m not sure I have what it takes to achieve that here.

However, I don’t want to insinuate that moving to SF was a mistake. What I have found here is a city brimming with pulp, two roommates who will forever be family, and a countless number of new friends who have made the decision to leave one of the toughest in my life. I’ll never forget the short time I spent on this little peninsula, but that time has come to an end.

Seattle is my home and as cheesy and cliché as it is to say, it truly is where my heart is. It’s the rain, the smells and the crispness of the air. It’s the mountains, the lakes and the backpacking trips. It’s the Seahawks and the Sounders and yes, even the Mariners. It’s the feeling you get when you know you’re where you’re supposed to be. I plan on moving forward with my life in ways I can’t even imagine, and Seattle is where that will happen.

I hesitate to look at the last 8 months in this new city as a failure. Some might look at it that way – that I’m crawling back to my comfort zone with a hanging head. I get that even if I don’t agree with it. And if I ever happen to look at it that way I can always use these experiences as tools for growth and motivation. In life we deal with failure all the time, each one as important as the last. I have no need to defend myself, only to say that the future is wide fucking open.

I’ll be here until the end of September, and I hope to fill the last few weeks I have with the people that have made this transition one I’ll forever hold dear to my heart. Just remember you’ll always have a place to stay up north.

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