I'm stepping into my closet, aka my recording studio, but I'm not here for the usual reasons. High school photos. I'm driven by

obligations. Specifically organizing boxes of stuff that I've accumulated over the past several years.

As I peel back the corner to one box, I know immediately why it's so heavy.

More goals, I think these are more goals.

Oh my God.

Paper napkins and scribbled notes stuffed in between journal pages

surprisingly adds a lot of weight to a bottom. notes stuffed in between journal pages surprisingly

adds a lot of weight to a box if you have a lot of journals.

And I have a lot of journals.

I pick up this one. It's teal and bulging on all sides. In between the pages are

photos that I took for a newspaper once upon a time.

I'm brought back to the summer I spent in Minneapolis,

back when I never left a house without my camera swinging at my side.

As I flipped without my camera swinging at my side.

As I flip through, I completely forget about organizing boxes.

I can feel these photos pulling me into a rabbit hole. One stops me in my tracks. It's of an older man on

a sailboat. He's wearing a big hat, his weathered face peering up at the sky.

It's Warner. During that summer in Minneapolis, my life slowly started tilting toward the life that I have now.

And Warner had a lot to do with it, but I didn't know it at the time.

You're listening to millennial, a podcast about coming of age and maneuvering your 20s.

Time capsules, they come in so many forms, and when you stumble upon them,

you're taken back to a world of a former self. This episode is

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