while ( breathing ) { yield content; }

It’s been imparted many times before, by many people better than I, but I’m a firm believer in consistently learning new things, and in the corollary that the best way to solidify your understanding and mastery of a subject is to teach it, or to create with it.

The more time spent using your knowledge, the more insight you gain, and the more the experience feeds back into itself.

In my stints as both music teacher and dev-lead, as well as my permanent position as dad, I have grown adept at playing the oracle and the sage.
I’ve conditioned myself to have the answers, and to help others find theirs.

What I feel I’ve lost in recent years, however, is my ability to ask my own questions; my voice and my curiosity have been burdened by the weight of fact and measure, standards and processes.

This shall ideally be the impetus to change. Writing, much like making music or writing a program, has a sort of blank-canvas allure to it; freely express yourself in any way you’d like. That blank-canvas opportunity, however, is equally matched by the burden of blank-page-induced writer’s block.

The key is to randomly seed the medium with something, be it a sentence, a scribble, a chord, or some boxes you intend to turn into a game.
This is that squiggle.
In the future, the meandering thread will be cleaned up around the edges, and formalized a little. Perhaps it will ebb and flow in various directions, before returning to something more central. 
For now, I focus on finding the voice of someone ready to look at blue sky scenarios and legitimately ask befitting questions, on my own behalf.
For now, I can leave the implementation details of the rabbit-hole to one side, and create some less precise content.
For now, I can strive to simply flex my Socratic Maximus with the kid-weights attached.