There’s an internal debate that I struggle with daily. Is it more important to be a master of one subject, or a jack of all trades? Often I will find myself hours into a project that, when started, I had no knowledge of whatsoever. Regularly I will be determined to teach myself a new skill, learn about a culture that’s foreign to me, or simply attempt to accomplish a feat that beforehand had no relevance to my life. Perhaps it’s clinical (I find myself restless without constant change or progress), but I like to think that even though I may not be a master of one subject, I can safely consider myself a jack of all trades. Tynology encompasses this idea. You’ll find me writing about technology, but also about sports, film, design, photography, travel, and even parenting.
What happens when products becomes less personal? All of the metal, plastic, silicone and glass is, by its nature is just that: impersonal. The approach to engaging you, as a reader, with specifications and stat sheets for every new gadget only perpetuates the stigma. I created this site to complete the link between people and their products. The personality of devices, the effort of creation, and the intent of progress and wisdom.
If this site can serve one purpose, it should be the ability to teach readers something new. Whether it educates you, gives you insight into a new subject or way of thought, or simply begets a response of “hmmm…”, it will have served it’s intended purpose. There’s always room. As you’ll read below, just try it, see if you like it.
A middle-child born to southern-bred parents living in Southern California in the mid-80s, I was engulfed in curiosity and instilled with fearlessness. One phrase sticks out throughout my upbringing and will pass onto my son: “just try it, see if you like it.” As a student, I often found myself bored, avoiding “busy work”, and refusing to study as much as I should have. I was able to charm my way through high school, often negotiating class credit for personal projects, and woke up in Flagstaff, AZ with a scholarship to Northern Arizona University.
In high school I had focused on music, technology, design, sports (QB1 for 3 years), and film. In college, I decided to pursue computer science. For one semester. Then communications. Then music. Then art & design. After three years, I was back in San Diego, half-way through five or six majors.
So I started a band.
I was in my early twenties, and the opportunity to be a rockstar and tour the world was quickly vanishing. I made it just in the nick of time. We toured, signed a record deal, put out a couple of albums, made it onto the Billboard charts, etc. I made lifelong friends, saw the dark side of the industry, played alongside my idols, and met my beautiful wife.
As the band came to an end, I shifted back to what I knew most: design. I became co-owner and creative director of a local media & magazine company. Four years after walking in, the company I helped start had grown from 2 to 14 magazines, 3 to 24 employees, and revenue had increased over 2000%. I had developed extensive skills and experience in web/app development, photography, videography and graphic design.
August 9, 2010. I lost my mother in a tragic and unnecessary car accident. I view this date as the first page in the second chapter of my life. A chapter filled with fear, pain, uncertainty. But also with joy, pride, unconditional love, and growth. It was this date that I realized my time as a traveling musician was limited. I needed to grow up, take responsibility, and turn the page. And I was happy to do so. I convinced Sarabeth to move to San Diego and became a business owner. We traveled the world, put together a brilliant wedding, and welcomed the most precious little boy, Fox Henry into the world in February 2015. You can view her blog here. As we continue this journey together (yes, you’re a part of this whole “growth” thing), I welcome you to engage with me and my family, whether it be on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, or the Tynology site.
Thank you for reading all of that. As a reward, here is a note that came with several LEGO sets in 1974 about gender and creativity. And it’s real.
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