For more than two years, I’ve been navigating ongoing health challenges alongside very real financial pressure. That combination has a way of stripping life down to its essentials. When energy is limited and the future feels uncertain, you are forced to ask a deeper question than “How do I get through this?”

You start asking: What actually makes life worth living?

That question has guided everything I’ve worked on during this period—not only for myself, but for others as well. Because I don’t believe dignity, meaning, or hope should be luxuries reserved for the fortunate. We all deserve a life that feels worth inhabiting.

Since retiring on SSI isn’t a realistic option for me, I’ve also been learning—intensively—how to work with AI. Not simply to “make money online,” but to build something that could sustain me and matter. Something that didn’t just pay bills, but offered purpose.

That exploration first took shape as Brighter Orbit—a hopeful framework for human flourishing in an age of rapid technological change.

But keeping a hopeful posture became harder after Donald Trump returned to the White House.

At the same time, I knew—intellectually and emotionally—that it wasn’t just about one person. It was about systems. Long-standing, entrenched systems that concentrate power, reward extraction over care, and quietly teach people that exhaustion is normal and dignity is optional.

That realization gave rise to the System Resistance League.

Yet over time, I noticed something important: living in resistance was costing me more than it was giving back. Resistance sharpened my awareness, but it also kept my nervous system on edge. It was not a sustainable headspace—especially while dealing with health realities.

So resistance evolved into Resistance 2 Renaissance—an attempt to shift from pushing against the world to imagining what could replace what no longer works.

Then came a more pragmatic detour. I tried, for a while, to focus almost exclusively on earning more. Not because it inspired me—but because I needed to survive.

That approach didn’t work either.

When you’re employed, external structure forces momentum: show up or don’t get paid. But when everything depends on self-motivation—especially while you’re tired, managing illness, and questioning the systems you’re embedded in—purely transactional work becomes hollow fast.

I realized I was deeply tired of working only for a paycheck.

So I considered reviving Brighter Orbit again. But when I revisited it through the lens of everything I’d learned—about AI, systems, economics, psychology, and human limits—it no longer felt complete.

What emerged instead was something clearer.

Something simpler.

Something more grounded.

Introducing Humia

Humia is the distillation of that entire journey.

It starts from a deceptively basic premise:
Human dignity is not a belief. It is a measurable, designable reality.

Humia is about centering human beings—actual humans, with bodies, limits, needs, creativity, and interdependence—inside the systems we build, the technologies we deploy, and the futures we imagine.

It asks different questions:

• What if dignity were treated as infrastructure, not decoration?

• What if progress were measured not only by output, but by lived human experience?

• What if AI were used not to accelerate burnout—but to reduce it?

This relaunch isn’t about reinvention for its own sake. It’s about alignment.

I’m still learning. Still adapting. Still building in public. But I’m doing so now from a place that feels honest, sustainable, and human.

If you’re here because you’re tired of survival-only thinking—
If you’re curious about AI without surrendering your humanity—
If you believe a better life should be normal, not exceptional—

Then you’re in the right place.

Welcome to Humia.