So, this is it. By writing this blog post, I’m committing to taking the first step toward a new chapter in my life.
If you know me, you might be thinking this is long overdue—and you’d be absolutely right. For years, I’ve wanted nothing more than to create. To make music, share it with people, and be seen, heard, and appreciated for it. But fear has held me back. Fear born from a mix of circumstances, a bit of neurodivergence, and more than a few failures. Bad luck. Disappointment.
Even though my current situation puts me in a great position to create art, I’ve been terrified of trying again. Terrified of pouring everything I am into a project—potentially for months—without any guarantee of success. Of putting in all that effort, only to realize that maybe I just can’t do it. Or that failing again would be too much to bear. So instead of trying, I’ve stayed safe. Safe in my apartment. Safe with my job. Safe with Observant Sound—which, honestly, doesn’t seem that safe anymore with AI and everything else looming over creative work.
And yet, I could never fully let go of music. I tried again and again, only to feel paralyzed in front of my computer, wondering if I was wasting my time. If I should be doing something more practical. But even when I wasn’t producing or recording, I was still composing with pencil and paper, still playing my many instruments. I’ve gone to 15 folk music camps. Played more than 30 concerts. Music has always been there, even when I tried to push it away.
But I’ve come to realize that not making music, not putting myself out there, is also not a solution. Because life in my safe little apartment is isolated and gray, devoid of color. I need to reconnect with the version of myself who was excited every night to sit at the computer and produce, or to stay up late writing piano compositions just for the sheer joy of it. The version of me who couldn’t wait to share my work with the people I cared about.
In a way, my life has been moving like a pendulum, swinging between extremes and slowly settling. I grew up immersed in music, studied it, and went all in, convinced I would become a film composer. Then reality hit. After university, I had to admit that it wasn’t working out, so I shifted my focus to sound design and coding—something I learned to be good at. And for years, I completely rejected the idea of being an artist. Told myself I didn’t have time for it. That I wasn’t cut out for the life of a traveling musician, playing clubs and bars every night.
But now I’m finding a middle ground. I know I need music in my life. I know I have things to say—things I want to share with the world. But I’ve also made peace with the fact that it doesn’t have to be my job. I don’t need to rely on it financially. I can create in balance with everything else I do. And that realization has helped me let go of all the expectations that were holding me back.
There’s so much more I could say, but I think I’ll stop here. This first post is just the beginning—an introduction. If you’ve found your way here and read this far, I just want to say: Welcome. And thank you.
I hope to take you along on this journey—sharing my music, my process, my works-in-progress. Maybe even tutorials on things I’ve learned. But I also want to talk about the things that matter to me beyond music—especially mental health, because it’s important. And I’ve got some songs in the works that touch on these themes as well.
This is just the start. Let’s see where it leads.
