Jack Daily Diary Copy 3

Yesterday ended up being about both loss and commitment.

The day started with music. My wife went to yoga, my daughter was at work, and the house finally emptied in the way it needs to for me to record vocals. Vocals are always the hardest part—one voice, repeating the same lines at full volume, no disguise. Even when I’m halfway up the stairs, it’s unmistakable. I can’t imagine it’s pleasant to hear from the other side of the door.

So when the house cleared, I took the chance.

I worked on a song from the five-song collection I’ve been planning to release by the end of the year. For a while, it felt like it might be something special. Then a problem surfaced—one of the head stems was in the way, and fixing it meant replacing it entirely. I tried to convince myself it could be salvaged. I gave it time. More than it deserved.

Eventually, I admitted it wasn’t working.

That song won’t make the cut. The five-song album quietly became four. There was no drama in the decision—just the familiar recognition that forcing something forward usually makes it worse. Letting it go felt cleaner.

Later in the day, I turned back to the Diane website and finally pushed it live. What I thought would be a simple step turned into a long, technical process—domains, DNS records, plan limitations, CMS restrictions. Along the way, I realized that the basic plan I’d been using wouldn’t actually allow the site to grow in the way I intended. One page was fine. Anything beyond that wasn’t.

By the end of the day, I made the call to upgrade.

Not for traffic. Not for growth. Not for return. Just to give the project enough room to breathe—space for a blog, an FAQ, and whatever else might emerge naturally over time. A site like this shouldn’t feel boxed in from the start.

There’s still cleanup to do. Some links aren’t behaving correctly yet, especially around the blog. Devices need another pass—desktop, tablet, phone—to make sure everything holds together the way it should. The FAQ page is next, and that will mean thinking carefully about what questions people will actually have: transcription failures, premature reflections, how to recover when something goes slightly off. Practical things. Human things.

I’m also considering whether to add an extended background page—nothing messy, nothing promotional. Just optional context for people who want to understand where the method came from and how it’s meant to be used. The core page stays simple. Everything else remains secondary.

For now, that’s enough.

Once those pieces are stable, I’ll return fully to the mixes. The goal is still the same: a finished album by the end of the year. Four songs instead of five. Fewer parts. Less noise. More honesty about what actually belongs.