Finding My Groove

Somewhere along the way, I stopped overthinking the mic. The pauses, the tangents, the unfinished thoughts — they started to feel natural. This episode isn’t about any one topic; it’s about getting comfortable being here, speaking freely, and letting things flow the way they want to.

I can feel myself finding a rhythm — not perfect, just real. The more I record, the more I realize it’s not about performance or polish, but presence. About trusting my voice, my timing, and the space between my words.

This episode is me easing into that — getting grounded, getting honest, and finally feeling at home in the process.

This episode wasn’t planned — more like a series of thoughts that found me while I moved through the city. After an evening out with co-workers, I ended up in Lower Manhattan, sitting at a small Mexican restaurant, trying to eat, trying to listen to myself.

What came out were fragments — thoughts about how drinking isn’t always about peer pressure but about reality feeling too heavy, memories of being four and trying to fit in before I even knew who I was, moments of realizing I still don’t always trust source… or myself.

Later, I found myself by the water near the World Trade Center — quiet, reflective, circling my thoughts the way the tide circles the shore. Nothing about this episode is linear. It’s more like a collection of passing signals — reminders that sometimes the message comes through the tangent, not the point.

“The City & Me” is about being human in motion — between the noise, the quiet, and the parts of ourselves we meet along the way.

There are days when I find myself recording more than once — morning thoughts that feel clear and certain, and evening ones that feel heavier, quieter, or more unsure. This episode is one of those days. There’s no set topic, no script — just life being lived and processed in real time.

Through this new recording process, I’m learning to let each hour hold its own truth. Some talks unfold while I’m still, others while I’m in motion. Each one carries a different version of me — who I am before the world starts, and who I become once it’s had its say.

AM:PM is becoming my signature space for that rhythm — the ebb and flow of thought, emotion, and time. Not everything needs to be tied together neatly; sometimes it’s enough to simply let the day speak for itself.

Sometimes I hit record before the tide has settled. The thoughts are there, the lessons are forming, but they haven’t fully sunk in. This episode is one of those moments — like sending out a bottled message into the ocean: pieces of clarity, fragments of insight, and a few tangents along the way.

I veered off at times, not always translating what I understood for myself into something clear for you. But that in itself is part of the process — learning to sit with information before I rush to share, or returning to a topic once it’s had time to settle deeper.

This episode is also a chance to get to know me a bit more beyond the reflections: who I am when I’m still figuring it out, still piecing things together, and still willing to share even in the in-between.

Memories in the Making

The episode closes with an unfiltered, real-time conversation as my sister and I build the Lego set I bought myself for last year’s birthday but never touched. We finally opened it, and in between laughter, dialogue, and small moments, I realized I was making new memories that mattered just as much as any tradition.

From Appreciation to Celebration

I continue where I left off. In this part, I read something my sister wrote for me and open up about how it made me feel. For once, I wasn’t just appreciated — I was celebrated. That shift meant more than I expected.

Honest Conversations & Healing

I pick up threads from previous episodes — exploring platonic relationships after sexual encounters, reflecting on what it means to be here to heal, and sharing some open thoughts that have been on my mind. The recording ran long, so I decided to close this part by talking about the gift my sister gave me.

Birthdays are supposed to feel different — brighter, louder, marked with celebration. But for me, they’ve always felt like just another day. This year, that feeling was more present than ever. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Most of the day wasn’t even about me. And yet… something shifted.

I laughed. I cried. I connected. I indulged. Most of all, I chose to heal. And that choice — even on a day that felt ordinary — meant everything.

In this episode, I reflect on what it means to carry a birthday without the fireworks, to find meaning in the quiet moments, and to realize that healing doesn’t always announce itself with celebration. Sometimes, it simply shows up in the way you do.