About
Welcome to My World.
I'm Jay, living in a city in the Oeste region of Portugal called Torres Vedras. If you've stumbled upon this space, know that you've entered a corner of the world where my thoughts spill freely, sometimes messy, often meandering, always honest. Here, nothing is polished for appearance; everything is raw, immediate, and real. This is my escape, my lab, my notebook of existence. Writing is how I confront myself, untangle the knots in my mind, and reach out to others who might feel just as lost, curious, or creatively restless as I do.
Some days, my thoughts wander in spirals that have no clear end, tracing memories, worries, and small sparks of inspiration across invisible pages. Other days, they are sharp and brief, like the flash of sunlight that passes through a half-opened window, illuminating a corner of my living room before disappearing again. In both cases, this is my way of understanding myself, of making sense of the chaos that sits just beneath the surface of everyday life.
This blog is also my search for a tribe, a scattered constellation of people who understand the struggle, the beauty, and the chaos of living deliberately. People who know that life is messy, who embrace curiosity even when it hurts, and who find meaning in moments that others might overlook. I write to connect, to share, to reach out across the quiet spaces of our lives.
Here, you'll find stories that range from the deeply personal to the wildly creative, from reflections on mental health and the fragility of life, the human experience, to the small joys of gaming, aviation, and fleeting adventures on two wheels or four. It's a space that holds everything I am: my obsessions, my passions, my fears, and my laughter. And, at its center, always, is a search for understanding: of myself, of others, and of the quiet, fragile beauty of existence.
My mornings usually start with Berg, my 13-year-old dog, who is simultaneously my anchor and my teacher. Age has slowed him down, and most days he can't stand on his own. Lifting him is physically taxing (my herniated disc protests every time) but it's also strangely grounding. His trust, the way he looks at me when I help him, reminds me why persistence matters.
My series, "The Last Months With My Best Friend," captures the tiny moments that shape my life. Each entry becomes part of the Berg series: a living memory of him, for him, for me, and for anyone who might someday read this and understand the quiet dignity of old age and love. I'll keep writing until the final day, when I have to make the hardest decision. I will also be recording videos so, meanwhile, if you want to follow our journey, please subscribe to my YouTube channel, where you'll find Shorts and longer videos about him as well
Then comes Lifestream, my daily diary. Some entries are long confessions, like unpacking the weight of a day spent overthinking every interaction, every mistake, every tiny victory, as if each moment leaves behind a residue that needs to be examined before it can dissolve. It's deeply personal and intimate. A quiet place where I can lay my thoughts down like stones and see what shape they take.
But I still want to share my thoughts with the world. Not because they're important, not because they're profound, but because documenting life feels NECESSARY to me. It's a way of leaving breadcrumbs behind, a way of saying I was here, even if no one ever picks them up.
As the years go by, I've started to believe I have already lived more than I have left. That realization, that slow, creeping awareness, brings with it a strange and almost shocking sense of impermanence. It's like catching a glimpse of your own shadow in a mirror you didn't know was there. It's temporary, but it lingers, and with it come thoughts that flicker and disappear before you can hold them. Writing is my way of catching them in the act. I live to write. And I write to live.
I have a lot of interests: writing, podcasting, aviation, gaming, motorcycles, etc., all swirling in my brain at once. My YouTube channel is a reflection of this chaos: shorts, snippets of my day, walks through towns, car tours, and long motorcycle rides in spring and summer. Sometimes I talk to the camera; sometimes I just let the scenery speak.
In the future, I want to do interviews with doctors about mental health, mini-documentaries, and maybe even investigative-style reports, who knows. I studied Communication Sciences and specialized in Journalism, so the tools are there, but this isn't about credentials. It's about curiosity, authenticity, and storytelling that matters.
I'm adopting the philosophy of Cristiano Ronaldo: relentless focus, unwavering effort, and the belief that the process matters as much as the result. Every day, I build this platform, step by step, post by post, video by video. I want to go live often. Sometimes from the couch, sometimes from the middle of a motorway (carefully), sometimes even from the car during a scenic drive. If you subscribe, you help me continue doing that, sharing spontaneity and honesty with the world.
I'm also slowly writing two books: one on mental health, the other on aviation. At first glance they couldn't be more different: one inward, one outward, one reflective and fragile, the other precise, technical, bound to numbers and checklists. And yet they both belong to me, two mirrors angled at different parts of the same restless mind.
The aviation book, though wrapped in fiction, is really an autobiography in disguise. About eighty percent of its pages are nothing more than the retelling of my own story as a student pilot, a story of two hundred hours in the air that felt like two hundred lifetimes. In those hours I learned not only how to fly an airplane but how to confront myself: the trembling hands before solo, the clipped voice of an instructor reminding me of what I'd missed, the sudden silence when the engine pulled back and I realized I was truly alone above the world. The book is built out of these fragments: takeoffs that felt like rebirths, landings that felt like reckonings, long straight-and-level stretches where thought itself became a kind of cloud drifting past the canopy.
The Mental Health book is about maintaining inner peace in a world that is increasingly connected, yet often overwhelmed by the internet and its hidden dangers. True peace begins within ourselves, just as it begins in the heart of our homes and radiates outward. In an era where constant notifications, endless information, and the pressures of online life intrude into every corner of our minds, finding calm requires more than introspection: it requires protection.
The book explores how to safeguard your mental space, setting boundaries against digital noise, misinformation, and the subtle anxieties that come from being always "plugged in." It's about learning to navigate the online world deliberately, securely, without letting it dictate your moods, thoughts, or self-worth. Balance comes from knowing when to DISCONNECT, how to engage wisely, how to cultivate moments of stillness, reflection, and clarity, and how to live a disconnected life. In essence, it's a guide to preserving both your inner peace and your mental resilience, showing that serenity in life begins with both internal mindfulness and intentional protection from external digital chaos.
Two books, two halves of a life, one grounded, one airborne. But both, in the end, are about the same thing: how to stay aloft when gravity, whether of the body or of the mind, pulls you down.
Occasionally, I go live on TikTok. We talk about everything, mental health, gaming, aviation curiosities, or just the absurdities of life. These live sessions are small oases of calm for me, spaces where I can interact, laugh, share, and feel connected. The community is intimate, real, and surprisingly comforting.
Life isn't just online. I take walks that turn into mini-adventures: discovering alleyways I never knew existed, finding a café that smells like cinnamon and old books, or pausing to watch the sunset paint the horizon. Motorbike tours feel like flying, car tours allow me to narrate my own little documentaries. Every trip, no matter how short, becomes material for future entries, videos, or reflections.
Future Plans
Here's what's coming next:
An online shop, reflecting my passions, my creations, and my curiosities.
A mental health podcast, giving voice to experts, stories, and advice.
Expanded video content, including interviews, mini-documentaries, and creative explorations.
Each project is part of a bigger vision: a living, breathing chronicle of life, curiosity, and creativity.
This space is a mix of everything in my mind: personal reflections, Berg's stories, day-to-day observations, creative explorations, and my projects. It is my attempt to make sense of life, to connect, to share, and to inspire. Writing, filming, and sharing here is my act of defiance against passivity, my way of claiming space in the chaos.
So, welcome. Stay. Explore. Interact. Be part of this journey. Together, we'll navigate life's messiness, celebrate small victories, and create moments of connection, understanding, and joy. One story at a time.
Thank you for existing.
Jay.