My interest in investing began in the mid-2000s. My uncle Tom was a gold bug; he’d send email updates to family and friends with mining ideas. I was 23, and it was the first time I realized a person could actually make a living in the markets.

The idea appealed to my introverted nature and a deep-seated desire for freedom. I’ve always struggled to wear the "mask of identity" required in corporate settings—it produced a strange, persistent anxiety in me. But for years, I put the dream aside to find my footing and pay the rent.

I took the long way around. I went to medical school and dropped out. I worked in sales. I went back for an MBA and passed Level 1 of the CFA, but eventually ran out of energy for the pursuit. A career in technology sales (information security mainly) provided a steady income and, eventually, "enough" to get started.

Uncle Tom had passed by then. I didn't know anyone else I trusted, so I went it alone. At first, I mostly averaged net losses. Then, something remarkable—and dangerous—happened: a fleeting winning streak. It was like I couldn’t go wrong.

In November 2021, I left my job at Oracle to invest full-time. It was the beginning of a brutal education. For over two years, I chased that streak and lost a significant amount of money by overlooking simpler, more reliable paths.

I eventually realized I wasn’t fighting the market; I was fighting my own impatience, fear, greed, and the arrogance of betting on things I didn't truly understand. "If you don't know who you are, the stock market is an expensive place to find out." — George Goodman. Well, I found out.

My breakthrough came in March 2024, thanks in large part to essential mentors and peers. I learned to tune out market noise and focus on fundamentals. Previous studies of psychological archetypes prepared me to relate to the affects of Kairos—a state of pure presence I already possessed—versus Chronos, whose historical memory is indifferent to short-term biases. I realized that while my intuition lived in the timelessness of Kairos, I needed the structure and memory of Chronos to protect that freedom of presence.

By embracing both, I became what I call "in-Time." This gave me the psychological discipline to wait for my moment and hold firm when others panic. Today, I no longer chase. My strategy is a practical extension of that discipline: identifying undervalued companies, diversifying, and weighting positions for risk. I choose the "boring" profitability of long-term compounding as my foundation, but this structure is also what allows me to manage the adrenaline of the trade. By being grounded in Chronos, I can remain nimble—capitalizing on rare opportunities that require fast thinking or having the clarity to cut a loser the moment it no longer holds up to my thesis.

This approach provides security and, more importantly, creates the space for other pursuits. It allows me to engage with the world with a completely present mind, knowing the foundation is secure.

It is February 2026. Whether I’ve reached the "other side" of this story isn't for me to say yet—that’s for the numbers to decide. But the way I think, move, and wait feels fundamentally different. This site is the record of what happens next.

The quote at the top of this page was written for a Chanel No. 5 perfume commercial and performed by Brad Pitt in 2012. I was struck by the monologue. While it was marketed toward the female gaze, my takeaway was entirely different.

To me, the allure wasn't that he was talking to or about someone; it was that he didn’t seem to need them. He wasn't focused on her, or on the external—he was his own luck, his own fate, and his own fortune. That sense of being centered in one's own existence, regardless of the 'world' watching or reacting, is the exact psychological state I strive for in my investing and life in general. It is about being self-sufficient and internally driven, where the rest of the world is a backdrop, not the anchor of my identity. This is, in fact, why I invest in the first place: to create and perpetuate the sovereignty to be just that.