Welcome to my little corner of the internet! This is The Hills I Die On, where conviction and conversation come together. This is more than just a blog—it’s my place to make my own declarations, a space where the things that matter to me the most take center stage. Some are deeply political, others are just my own “facts” (like the best book ever written and the worst song of all time) you know live altering information =) . If I believe in it, you’ll find it here.
I’m a Gen X soul through and through—an animal lover, a music addict, and someone who’s lived enough life to have strong opinions. Life has given me experiences, and I’ve been quiet long enouth. This is my time to say these are my beliefes and I’m not afraid to stand by them. Whether it’s the cultural moments that shaped us, the places everyone should experience at least once, or the battles worth fighting, this is where it will live.
Expect a mix of sharp takes, humor, and bad dad jokes, and my own unfiltered honesty. You might agree, you might not (and that’s ok)—but either way, I hope you will find at least one thing here that will leave you thinking. This is my space, and I run it with the unapologetic attitude of someone who grew up drinking from a garden hose, coming home before the street lights came on and making mix tapes off the radio. You might not like the opinions I have here, and I don’t mind at all. You’re welcome to stay and have an educated conversation—but hate, anger, and intolerance will get you the boot.
Welcome to The Hills I Die On. Pick a hill. Let’s go.
Oh, Superman, where are you now?
When every thing’s gone wrong somehow?
Men of steel, these men of power
I’m losing control by the hourThis is the time, this is the place
So we look for the future
But there’s not much love to go around
Tell me why this is the land of confusion
…funny enough, I really don’t like Phil Collins, but this song is pretty on point.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.