The Show Goes On
Thanks for following the journey.
At first, I didn’t think I’d share this.
Not publicly at least.
I kinda figured it’d be some quiet hobby I kept for myself.
Kind of a literary secret.
A private log of journal entries, a small creative outlet.
A place where I could speak freely without explanation.
No specific audience in mind. No clicks. No strategy.
Just words. My words.
I’ve been journaling since age 14. Writing down my thoughts.
Free writing.
Back when I didn’t have the voice for what I was feeling.
Just me, a pen, empty sheets of paper.
With a slight sense that I needed to document my voice to look back on.
This blog, or “canon”, as I like to call it, was supposed to be that way as well.
Unpolished. Untouched. Just for my eyes.
But then something shifted.
The more I kept writing, the more I realized this wasn’t just for me to look back on.
It was about my voice. Owning and using it for good intention.
And it lowkey felt nice to create something that didn’t ask for permission or validation.
It’s not a trend. It’s not performative. There’s no approval.
It was never meant to be content.
It was just proof.
That I’m present.
Paying attention to the noisy world around us.
That I’ve been building something in the quiet hours.
Each blog was a pulse check.
Some light, some heavier, some that were born of 2am overthinking spirals.
But they were all very true to myself.
And maybe that’s why I wanted to share it in the end.
Not to be seen, but to say something that others can align with and see themselves in.
Canon Vol. 1 wasn’t marketing.
Not some resume builder.
Just a time capsule. Reflection. Story. Humor.
It’s something I’ll look back on years from now.
And I’ll remember how it felt to be in this current season.
This rhythm. Figuring it out in real time.
It was never meant to be gain attention.
But to serve as a small pocket guide for those also in their Builder’s Season.
Author’s Note: The McCoy Catalog was written during a summer of quiet resets, unexpected full circle moments, and long awaited clarity. I didn’t plan for this to be the final entry of Volume 1, but it felt right. Maybe that’s the point, that the story keeps unfolding, with or without our permission. Plus, I’m a little burnt out. If the Builder’s Season taught me anything, it’s this: the work continues, the vision sharpens, and even stillness moves us forward.
Thanks for reading. See you in Volume 2.
The Quiet Between Chapters
Enjoy the valleys.
We always want the full picture.
Needing our whole story to be laid out at once.
But that’s not exactly how it works.
The man above doesn’t give us everything all at once.
Not because He’s hiding, but because we aren’t ready to handle it.
The full truth would just knock us over.
Life is kind of like that too.
The first time you go through something, you’re just trying to get by.
Wide-eyed, distracted, trying not to mess up too bad or look too weak.
But the second time? That’s when it hits you.
You notice what you missed, the looks, the silence, where you didn’t show up like you should’ve.
And suddenly, everything feels different.
You start to miss the days when you didn’t know so much.
Before you labeled every feeling.
Before every mistake felt like a pattern you needed to break down.
When you could just be without overthinking every little thing.
Now you know more, and yes, that knowledge sharpens you.
But sometimes it feels like it traps you.
Because clarity doesn’t always free you, it can feel like a cage, often disguised as something attractive.
This is the space I am constantly referring to as our Builder’s Season.
God shows us what we can handle, little by little, teaching us patience and trust when the path isn’t completely clear.
He’s preparing us through the quiet, the waiting, and the parts where we feel stuck.
Those in-between moments, where nothing’s happening but everything’s changing, that’s where the real work happens.
When the next season comes, we bring all that with us, stronger, wiser, and realer than before.
Because life isn’t about seeing it all at once.
It’s about growing into what you’re meant to be.
Step by step. Little by little.
Letter To My Son
By the time you read this, I will have grey in my beard.
Luke 15:20 “But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him…”
Dear Son,
You don’t know me yet, but you’re already one of the greatest things I’ll ever create.
Which is saying a lot because I once cut and seared a pear, and added it to a savory gnocchi dish, it paired very well (no pun intended). A joke, but it is truly one of the best things I’ve done from this point.
By the time you meet me, I’ll probably have my act together. I might even look like I’ve always known what I’m doing. Maybe I’ll look like a superhero to you. And I’ll take that (preferably Batman).
But just know, there were years of confusion, mistakes, anxiety, and figuring it out that came before you.
At this interesting age of 25, long before your conception, I’m writing you this letter. These are lessons I’ve learned from doing life wrong, doing it right, and everything in between.
I am only 25 years old and I’m still learning, but bear with me:
1. Don’t Chase What Runs In The Opposite Direction: People. Opportunities. Trends. If you have to beg it to notice you, it’s not yours. I’ve chased shiny things and ended up exhausted and empty. That chase will have you bending yourself just to be seen by something that was never meant for you. Protect your peace.
2. Iron Sharpens Iron: Keep people around who challenge you, not just hype you up. My closest boys are funny, loyal, and brutally honest. They keep me sharp. You’re allowed to outgrow people who don’t push you forward. Show respect, but don’t shrink yourself to fit in.
3. Good Sleep > Good Vibes: There were nights I stayed out just to feel included. Spoiler alert: I still felt left out, I was dead tired the next day and skipped Mass or gym. Choose rest over regret. That one extra drink usually ruins your memory, not makes it better.
4. Embrace the Tortoise: Everyone acts like they’re sprinting. Most are walking fast and hoping nobody notices. Move at your own pace. Take your time and build something that lasts. A fast moving life burns out very quickly.
5. Relationships Are Cool, But Peace Of Mind Is Cooler: You’ll meet people who confuse chaos with connection. It’s not about constantly proving yourself. It’s about being seen and heard. Your relationships should bring peace, not constant pressure.
6. The Gym Is Therapy: Lifting fixed a lot. Talking fixed the rest. Don’t bottle it up. I did for a while, and it made everything a lot heavier. Move your body and your mouth. Both can save you in different ways.
7. You’ll Never Regret Being Kind (But Be Sharp Too): Kindness is strength, not a weakness. Be the guy who opens doors and sees red flags early. Be warm but don’t be naive. Know when to walk away and when to speak up. There’s power in being both gentle and aware.
8. Cool Isn’t Loud. Cool Is Quiet Confidence: The loudest one in the room is usually hiding something. Sometimes it was me. The real ones don’t need to prove it, they just are. Confidence is how you carry yourself, not how much noise you make.
9. Protect Your Focus: Your attention is currency. Don’t blow it on distractions that don’t feed you. Trends, social media, performative behavior, most of it’s noise. Guard your time and your mind.
10. Mistakes Are Okay: You will definitely mess up. I do all the time. We all do. The important part is what you do with this lesson. Don’t sulk because you made a mistake. Own it. Learn from it. Keep pushing. No one has this whole “life” thing figured out.
11. Talk To God, Even When You’re Upset: I’ve gone quiet on Him before. Had nights where I didn’t wanna pray or faked the whole “everything’s fine” routine. Sometimes I was angry, sometimes I was confused, even sad. But every time I came back, He was still there, no judgment, just peace. Don’t wait until you feel holy. Just talk to Him.
Whenever you read this, whether you’re 14, 18, or 25 and probably raiding my closet for something vintage (by future standards), I hope it hits at the right time.
Just know: I didn’t have all the answers at 25… but I had enough to fill a blog post.
Love, the one you’ll call Dad.
115 Films That Raised Me
Some movies serve as background noise, these all have a lesson. Even if some might have fart jokes.
Some people keep journals. Some people turn to prayer. Some scream into the abyss when no one else is listening.
I also do these, but I also press play and get thrown into a whole different universe for about an hour or two.
Movies have always been a way for me to escape. I watch them for fun, but they’ve also served as unofficial therapy. Reflection. Nostalgia. A reminder that we aren’t the only ones in this world going through it. Even if it’s just a part of the storyboard.
Below are my all-time favorite films. Each one has left something behind, whether a lesson, a laugh, or a difficult truth. The themes across them hit on religion, race, culture, comedy, brotherhood, masculinity, class, purpose, and even a little horror. Every one of these movies has served a role in my life. So here’s my list, 115 films that I always come back to time and time again. If you’re in a slump, in your head, or just want to feel something again.
Pick any one of these and let it take you on a journey:
Dazed & Confused (1993)
Animal House (1978)
That Awkward Moment (2014)
Everybody Wants Some (2016)
Fast Times At Ridgemont High (1982)
The Truman Show (1998)
Class (1983)
Trading Paces (1983)
Old School (2003)
Don’t Be a Menace (1996)
Superbad (2007)
Baby Boy (2001)
This is the End (2013)
Pulp Fiction (1994)
Abduction (2011)
Project X (2012)
One Night in Miami (2020)
Caddyshack (1980)
Menace II Society (1993)
Hall Pass (2011)
Sorry to Bother You (2018)
Black Panther (2018)
Once Upon A Time In Hollywood (2019)
St Elmo’s Fire (1985)
BlacKkKlansmen (2018)
They Cloned Tyrone (2023)
Pineapple Express (2008)
Remember the Titans (2000)
Big Daddy (1999)
Total Frat Movie (2016)
Billy Madison (1995)
Juice (1992)
Grown Ups (2010)
Django (2012)
Benchwarmers (2006)
Burning Sands (2017)
White Chicks (2004)
Grown Ups 2 (2013)
21 & Over (2013)
GOAT (2016)
Do The Right Thing (1989)
Stepbrothers (2008)
Spiderman 3( 2007)
The Dark Knight (2008)
Horrible Bosses (2011)
Poetic Justice (1993)
Boys in the Hood (1991)
Waves (2019)
Mean Girls (2004)
The Wood (1999)
Friday (1995)
The Great Gatsby (2013)
House Party (1990)
Frat Star (2017)
House Party 2 (1991)
Dear White People (2014)
The Breakfast Club (1985)
American Psycho (2000)
The Wolf of Wall Street (2013)
The Help (2011)
Judas and the Black Messiah (2021)
Queen & Slim (2019)
Norbit (2007)
Dead Poets Society (1989)
School Ties (1992)
42 (2013)
Entourage Movie (2015)
Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (1986)
Bridesmaids (2011)
Pretty In Pink (1986)
Soul Man (1986)
The Social Network (2010)
Race (2016)
We’re the Millers (2013)
Ted 2 (2015)
21 Jump Street (2012)
The Riot Club (2014)
Love Don’t Cost a Thing (2003)
Life (1999)
Love & Basketball (2000)
The Best Man (1999)
Wedding Crashers (2005)
22 Jump Street (2014)
American Pie (1999)
American Pie 2 (2001)
American Wedding (2003)
American Pie Reunion (2012)
Neighbors (2014)
West Side Story (1961)
Cat In The Hat (2003)
Shrek (2001)
Shrek 2 (2004)
School Daze (1988)
Shark Tale (2004)
Mid90s (2018)
Entergalactic (2022)
Where’s The Money (2017)
Blue Mountain State Movie (2016)
The 40 Year Old Virgin (2005)
Evan Almighty (2007)
Bruce Almighty (2003)
Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (1967)
Why Him? (2016)
Get Out (2017)
Us (2019)
Insidious (2010)
Annabelle (2014)
The Conjuring (2013)
The Conjuring 2 (2016)
Candyman (1992)
Candyman (2021)
The Purge (2013)
The Shining (1980)
Scary Movie 3 (2003)
North By Northwest (1959)
Sometimes I Just Like Apple Juice
This one’s not about legacy or discipline. It’s about apple juice.
“The question is not what you look at, but what you see.” - Henry David Thoreau
Because not everything needs to mean something.
I don’t have anything groundbreaking to say in this one. No mystical metaphors, no coded scripture, no sharp take on modern masculinity or modern romance in the age of the digital world. I’m just sitting here after a long day, relaxed, quiet, and I’ve got a glass of apple juice in my hand. And I like it. That’s it.
Sometimes I just like Apple Juice.
And the thing is, even that feels like a radical or quasi-controversial statement these days. We live in a time where everything has to mean something. You can't just enjoy a thing without someone asking what the symbolism is or how it connects to you personally. But nah, man. Sometimes it really is just apple juice. Cold. Golden. Tangy. No caption needed.
I think we’ve kind of forgotten how to just enjoy stuff without trying to make it into content or wisdom or personal branding. Everyone’s turning their morning walk into a podcast moment. Coffee starts to turn into a TED Talk. Relationships start to turn into lessons. Silence starts to turn into a post about mental health or spirituality.
And I do get it, some of those things are beautiful and hold meaning. But, allow people to breathe. Allow yourself to breathe.
Relax because this life isn’t so serious.
I guess this makes me a hypocrite.
But here’s what I’m getting at. Not everything needs to be profound. Not every moment needs a cherry on top. Not every day needs a major breakthrough. Some days, you're just a man casually enjoying apple juice, and that’s okay.
Honestly, I think the world would feel a little more peaceful if more people were allowed to enjoy things without performing. Apple juice takes me back to being a kid, when liking something didn’t need a reason. You liked it because it tasted good. That was the whole story. There was nothing more to it. Circa 2006-ish, long before we lost our minds.
I remember school lunches, where the little juice box was the best part of the tray. Or field trips where they handed out those tiny cups of apple juice where you’d peel back the aluminum lid, they were never enough but always hit so damn hard. Even now, I’ll grab a bottle sometimes and it’s like time slows down for a second. No responsibilities, no DM’s, no pressure, just me and a glass of this golden nostalgia.
I’m not saying apple juice is deep. It’s not. At all. That’s kind of the point. That maybe honoring the simple things is deeper than we realize. Maybe that’s part of manhood too, knowing when to go hard, and when to let your guard down for five minutes to enjoy something without apology.
I think we all need stuff like that. Something unexplainable that brings you back to yourself. Something that doesn’t need to be defended or understood. For some of us it’s a certain old movie. For others, it’s lifting with music. For me, at least today, it’s apple juice. And I won’t act like that’s not enough.
So if you’re expecting some big message or takeaway from this one, I’ve got bad news. There isn’t one. Not really.
This is just a reminder that you're allowed to enjoy something without attaching a meaning to it. You can exist without having to explain your existence. You can sip your apple juice, mind your business, and feel good about the fact that this small thing is bringing you a little bit of peace and joy.
That’s all I’ve got for you. No hidden message. No plot twist. Nothing.
Sometimes I just like Apple Juice.
Martinellis, Old Orchard, Minute Maid, Mott’s, Simply.
Doesn’t matter. Just enjoy.
The Elevator Pitch
I don’t have a script anymore.
Proverbs 19:21 “Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.”
If someone asked me who I am in an elevator, I think I’d freeze for a second. Not because I don’t have anything to say, but because that kind of question doesn’t really fit in a place like that. Everything about an elevator is short, transactional, and quiet. No one’s trying to unpack their identity between floors two and six.
Still, it’s a question that lives in my head sometimes. The classic “So, what do you do?” But what they’re really asking is, “How should I categorize you?” and lately, I don’t think I fit into any clean box. I’m finishing my degree, I’m working full-time, I’m building things most people don’t understand yet, and I’m showing up for myself in a way that doesn’t require a title or applause.
If I’m being honest, I used to have a whole answer ready. I’d run through what school I go to, what I’m majoring in, what I plan to do after graduation, and probably sprinkle in a few dreams to make it sound impressive. That was the college version of “elevator talk”, the highlight reel with no bloopers, no context, and no nuance.
These days, I don’t really care about trying to sound impressive. I care more about being consistent. I care more about how I carry myself when no one’s asking questions. If I’m in an elevator now and someone asks what I do, I might just say, “Working, going to school, trying to keep things in motion.” Which is true. It just doesn’t say everything.
Because the truth is, I’m a lot of things all at once. I’m the guy who wakes up early, as well as the guy who wakes up late, mixes his supplements, and heads to work with a packed schedule already running through his head. I’m writing this blog, even when I don’t always feel like what I’m saying holds weight, because something in me says to keep doing it. Not for an audience, but for myself. I’m working with kids, managing behaviors, being a presence, and most of them will never know the other stuff I’m building outside of that. I’m simply Mr. McCoy in their eyes.
But, in all honesty, I’m someone who prays quietly in the morning, someone who thinks about legacy way more than I let on, and someone who’s learned that silence doesn’t mean you have nothing to say, it just means you’re not in a rush to be heard.
I’ve also realized that the people who really get it don’t need a speech. They pick up on the details. The way you walk into a room. How you handle small talk. Whether or not you’re always looking at your phone. The way you react when things go left. None of that can be summed up in a 20-second summary.
So nah, I don’t have an elevator pitch. I’m not a startup or a project looking for investors. I’m a man in his builder’s season and most of what I value can’t be explained quickly anyway.
But if I had to say something, like really had to respond, I’d probably just look ahead and say:
“Still figuring it out. But I think I like where I’m headed.”
And then I’d step off on floor six. Without looking back. Continuing the journey.
The Final Fraternity
The last fraternity I ever needed to join.
John 13: 34-35 “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”
There was a time when life felt like an everlasting fraternity party.
Darties.
Chants echoing down hallways.
Drop That Low by Tujamo shaking the walls.
Black Robes. Pillowcases covering the heads of newcomers.
All in the name of our tradition.
Written rituals passed down like Gospels.
New members running through the same system designed by us, over and over again.
We had our own rules. Our own creeds. Our own sacred texts, even if they were written in Sharpie in a beer-soaked book.
I truly believed I had found and founded the brotherhood that would define me.
But eventually, it faded. The fraternal doors closed.
We tried to keep the feeling alive.
By gathering together in bar crawls. Night clubs. Stadiums and arenas.
Trying to recreate what had passed.
Then I was led back.
Not to another frat house, but to something far older.
A brotherhood not founded on collegiate purpose.
But on the Sermon on the Mount.
A tradition that hasn’t lasted decades, but millennia.
A mystical fraternity, open to anyone willing to follow the One who started it all.
I found myself kneeling at the altar.
Singing along with the ancient hymns.
Receiving the Eucharist.
It reached deeper than anything I that came before.
It didn’t offer me a beer.
It offered me the Body of Christ.
The Apostles? The original founders.
The Saints? The big brothers guiding us through this life, after transforming their own.
This may seem dramatic.
But, I shed a tear during Easter Mass this year.
Not for the music. Not for the incense. Not even for the tradition.
But because I pictured a man I’ve never met, in unimaginable pain.
Mocked. Stripped. Nailed. Bleeding
Forced to carry the burden.
Voluntarily. So that my sins wouldn’t define me.
A man I ignored for years.
A man who has known me since the beginning.
And after it all, still calls me “son”.
That moment hit something deeper.
I realized:
This wasn’t just a historical event.
It was a personal sacrifice.
Not only for the world in general, but for me too.
For my ego. My judgement. My rage. My doubt.
And still, He offered redeeming love.
That’s when I understood, this isn’t just my religion.
This is the fraternity.
The fraternity that doesn’t stop after graduation.
It never ends.
No Sunday Fundays. But, Sunday worship.
No pledge pin. But, rosary beads.
No Solo cup. But, a chalice.
Still robes, but in reverence.
Discipline. Honor. Purpose.
Love in its highest form.
He is the Alpha and the Omega.
And this fraternity?
It’s not a phase. It’s the covenant.
No final party.
No “crossing” ceremony.
Just a life lived in pursuit of the eternal.
The pledge process seems never ending.
But once you’re initiated, you’re in it forever.
Guided. Transformed. Sealed.
The Fraternity of Jesus.
The Art of Going Alone
Some journeys are meant to be had without an audience.
Proverbs 18:1 “Whoever isolates himself seeks his own desire; he breaks out against all sound judgement.”
People usually think being alone means there is something wrong.
But I’ve found that some of my best adventures, best moments, the most grounded and most real have happened when no one else was around.
Two years in a row, I’ve gone to watch the Premier Lacrosse League games in Minnesota solo.
Brought a solo ticket. Walked the stadium. Watched the game. Vibes.
Not because I had to but because I wanted to.
There was something about being in that space by myself that made it hit so much deeper.
I didn’t need anyone to make the experience valid. Because it already was.
I didn’t need anyone with me to make it meaningful. I wanted to be there, and that was enough.
I’ve also gone out, walking the busy streets of River North in Downtown Chicago.
Ate a solo dinner at Beatrix. Table for one.
Walked along the river.
Grabbed a drink at a bar on that very walk.
I wasn’t sad. I wasn’t bored.
I was present and I had fun.
I’ve been to Solemn Catholic Mass at the Cathedral of Saint Paul alone.
More times than I can count.
Sat in the old wooden pews, prayed, listened, stood there in silence.
It’s one of the few places I feel fully seen, even when no one’s looking at me.
I’ve eaten alone.
Gone for walks alone.
Hit the gym alone.
All of it by choice.
There’s something real about moving through life without needing an audience.
Being alone doesn’t mean I’m lonely.
It means I’m at peace with where I’m at.
I’ve learned that solitude is where I grow the most.
In the gym, in prayer, in moments where it’s just me and my thoughts.
No one hyping me up. No one distracting me.
Just me, showing up, no gameplan, winging it.
That’s the fun in all of this.
Noise Is a Distraction
Not every scroll needs to turn into debate.
I post. Pretty frequently.
Lacrosse clips.
Funny captions.
Maybe a drink in hand.
Some people post aesthetics. I try to post vibes.
That’s just how I document life. Not to prove anything, but because life’s too short not to laugh at yourself now and then.
But while I’m all for keeping it light, lately I’ve been noticing how loud the world’s gotten, not fun loud.
But chaotic loud. Dumb loud.
People don’t post to share anymore. They post to argue.
Not to connect, but to win.
Every comment section is now a debate.
Every opinion is now a hill to die on.
And now everyone across the globe has access to state their personal opinion.
If you’re not careful, the noise starts pulling you in.
It starts to cloud your focus.
It makes you think you need to be involved in everything.
That you need to react. Defend. Respond.
Even when your peace is better off untouched.
That’s typically the trap.
That’s the distraction.
We’re in a time where everyone’s trying to be seen, heard, quoted, or crowned the smartest in the room.
And honestly? Half of these arguments are equivalent to group projects gone wrong.
Everyone talking over each other.
Nobody doing the quiet work.
You could be out chasing your goals, on a journey that leads somewhere unknown.
And instead, you’re knee-deep in debates that don’t feed you.
There’s a big difference between being informed and being infiltrated.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some prophet, preaching from the mountains.
I enjoy sharing parts of my life.
The goofy moments, the occasional gym grind, the real-time growth. Fuck, even some song that’s stuck in my head.
But silence?
It’s become a tool.
A filter.
A way to clear the brain fog and hear myself again.
It’s not about going ghost.
It’s about looking within, checking my intentions before I move, speak, or post.
Am I doing this from a place of peace?
Or pressure?
That mindset is powerful.
It’s the difference between reacting and responding.
Between chasing an imaginary title and choosing clarity.
People get uncomfortable when you stop explaining yourself.
When you’re not online arguing.
When you’re just focused.
But that’s when things start to align.
In the quiet, the gameplan comes together.
The progress gets made.
The real work happens.
I’ll always post when it feels right.
Crack a joke.
Drop a clip.
Be a little unserious, because that’s part of who I am.
But what I’m learning is:
You don’t need to match the chaos to be part of the world.
Sometimes the strongest move is a quiet one.
Sometimes the best response is no response.
And sometimes peace is not what the world’s trying to deliver.
The noise will keep going no matter what. So let it.
And you?
Stay grounded.
Stay playful.
Stay focused.
Because at the end of the day, noise is only a distraction.
The Start of Something New
It all begins with an idea. Welcome to the journey.
Ecclesiates 3:1-3 “To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven. A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up.”
Some beginnings don’t feel as explosive as often portrayed.
They often feel like silence. Sweat. Long walks. A genuine heart and an empty room.
That’s where this catalog began, not in some elaborate boardroom or intense brainstorm, but in the quiet stretch of time where I started rebuilding: spiritually, physically, and emotionally.
Not for anyone else.
Just for me.
For who I’m becoming.
For who I’ll leave behind.
This isn’t a blog. It’s a reflection for those who are building.
It’s a space for the one who lifts before sunrise, reads scripture when no one’s watching, sharpens words, and steps back from noise to move with purpose.
I’m not some guy here to tell you how to live.
But I know what it feels like to go without a map.
I know what it’s like to sit in the middle of your own story and ask, “Is this where it changes?”
This catalog is for that moment.
It’s for the Builder’s Season.
The season when you’re not trying to impress anyone, just trying to stay locked in.
To get stronger. To choose your future over your current feelings.
Here, you’ll find reflections. Things that mean something. Words that hold weight. Ideas that build.
There’s a man I haven’t met yet, but I see him.
He wakes up early.
He prays quietly before he speaks.
He walks like he’s been through something, but he’s not bitter.
He doesn’t need to be loud.
He knows when to speak and when to let silence say it better.
He dresses with intention, not to be seen, but to stay grounded.
He trains his body, not for vanity, but for discipline.
He’s got a Bible that’s been folded, carried, cried on, and written through.
I’m not exactly him yet. But I’m building towards being him.
Every early morning, every quiet workout, every skipped night out, every journal page… it’s all for that man.
I’ve had moments where I slipped back into old habits, chasing validation, escaping through distraction, forgetting who I said I wanted to be. But I come back. And when I do, he’s still there, waiting.
He doesn’t ask for perfection. He just wants me to keep moving.
That’s what this catalog is for.
Not the man I’ve been, but the one I’m becoming. The one I want my son to meet one day. The one who builds now so his future doesn’t have to rebuild everything from scratch.
If you see yourself in that, welcome to the reflections.
You’re not alone. And you’re not done.