Nine years after a unanimous Supreme Court ruling reshaped First Amendment law, I'm still reckoning with what winning actually meant — the band that retired, the opera that followed, and why this story was never just mine to keep.

A new film, a band name, a memoir, a documentary. The word "slant" keeps getting reclaimed. What that pattern reveals about language, power, and who gets to decide.

The Supreme Court is about to decide Watson v. Republican National Committee on the narrowest possible grounds. But the question underneath it is constitutional — and we may have been asking it incorrectly for generations. What if voting is a First Amendment right?

The Supreme Court didn't rule that The Slants wasn't offensive. It ruled the government doesn't get to make that call. A plain-language breakdown of what the landmark First Amendment trademark case actually held, what it left open, and why it still matters.

One cuts, one chooses. It's a simple parenting hack that some use to teach children about fairness. Give two kids a cake: the first can cut it however they'd like, but the second gets to choose which piece they take. It's no surprise that children raised with this often learn to cut perfectly equal shares. The rules of the game have a way of shaping behavior.

I’ve let go of more in the past year than I ever have before—possessions, plans, versions of myself that no longer fit.

It doesn’t feel like loss. It feels like space.

Space for whatever comes next.

I just discovered that my podcast that I abandoned four years ago has surpassed a million downloads. I had forgotten my login credentials, let the website die, and hadn't thought about the show in years. When I finally managed to login, I learned that 75% of those downloads came after I walked away.

There's a perceived cost to seeking clarification that keeps us locked in these patterns. Asking "what do you mean by that?" can feel like admitting weakness or, worse, giving ground to the other side. In charged conversations (politics, values, identity), the act of asking for context gets coded as taking a position. We've somehow created a culture where knowing the "right" interpretation is a proxy for being on the "right" team.

But democracies, like baseball teams and investing, do not win on highlights alone. They win through institutional health, rule stability, and sustained participation. Zoning boards and school councils are not exciting, but they determine housing, education, and opportunity. Norms around election integrity or judicial independence do not trend on social media, but once weakened, they are extraordinarily difficult to rebuild. Getting the process right is like getting on base.

If caring only activates when harm reaches our inner circle, the foundation is too fragile. Real justice has to function in grey areas—when no one is obviously evil, when rules appear neutral, when harm is diffused across systems rather than delivered by a single hand. The harder question isn't "Do I feel bad for this person?" but "Would I trust this system if I were the most vulnerable person it touched?"

What I learned from getting rid of everything I own.

"The death of one is a tragedy, the death of a million is a statistic."

Our compassion shrinks as the numbers grow.

No one wants to know how the sausage is made...unless they start noticing that every sausage tastes exactly the same.

When judges unknowingly cite fabricated cases, when agencies release doctored videos, when institutions treat AI output as reliable without verification, they're not just making isolated errors. They're normalizing a culture where verification is treated as optional and plausibility trumps truth.

We often treat language as a fixed tool—you either speak it or you don't, you understand or you don't. But my grandparents' experience reveals something more complex. Language is fluid, shaped by history and circumstance. It's an imperfect system we use to capture thoughts and intentions that are always richer than the words themselves.

If your life were a song, what would it be?

When people talk about living a “good life,” the idea is usually centered on one of two paths: the pursuit of happiness or the pursuit of meaning. Happiness, often tied to comfort and pleasant circumstances, can feel fleeting. Meaning, rooted in purpose and service, provides direction and fulfillment. But neither really feel complete. However, I’ve recently discovered a third way: choosing a psychologically rich life.

It’s a familiar feeling: that jarring moment when someone we admire reveals a belief that makes us recoil, makes a mistake that makes us cringe, or when they don’t support something that we believe to be aligned with their values. It takes us by surprise. We’re often shocked. And, we’re often more upset at them than those who have been espousing abhorrent beliefs because they were supposed to be one of the good ones. All of a sudden, that action or belief seems to wipe out years of rapport (or reputation, or brand…call it what you will).

After 200+ Facebook Marketplace transactions (mostly as a seller), I’ve learned a lot—not just about selling stuff, but about people.