Sunlight bounced off tiled promenades. Languages overlapped like birdsong. Salt hung in the air. Joy was happening accidentally, everywhere at once. And then—fish lips. Faces locked into the same practiced angle, eyes fixed on small black mirrors. The sea behind them ignored. The laughter beside them cropped out. The moment quietly traded for the rectangle.

Sovereignty is simply belonging to myself—choosing my connections freely, owning no one, and letting no one own me.

A tender takedown of Thanksgiving.

In Why I Don’t Miss Thanksgiving — Not Even a Little, Oddly Robbie roasts the holiday menu and the myths beneath it. From turkey fog to colonial amnesia, this essay trades performative gratitude for daily truth — with olives on fingertips and sunlight in Spain.

Some people only feel deep connection once or twice in their lives —

a first kiss,

a perfect choir moment,

a flash of chemistry they can’t explain.

For me, it can happen in seconds.

Autistic nervous systems like mine can attune incredibly fast.

Heart rate, breath, micro-expressions, even subtle body sway —

my system picks them up immediately.

It’s not romance.

It’s accelerated neural coupling.

The other person feels something rare.

I feel something normal.

And that mismatch carries a cost.

I take pieces of people with me.

I need time to “de-sync.”

They’re left wondering why it felt so intense.

That’s why I protect myself.

Dark glasses. Shorter exchanges. Boundaries that look strict but are actually kind.

Some of us don’t fall in love.

We fall into rhythm.

And sometimes that rhythm is simply too much for us both.

Excerpt — Full Circle: The Blessing of Being Wrong

The sidewalks here are narrow, sometimes nearly nonexistent. They hug the edges of twisting Andalusian roads, barely wide enough for one person. You learn to listen more than look—using your ears to sense the hum of an approaching car before it whips around a bend. Every step becomes an act of awareness, part instinct, part surrender. The body turns into a sensor for survival and grace.

And as I walk, I think about how often I’ve been wrong—about faith, about people, about the world itself.

For years, I lived inside a small, certain version of truth.

Now I know that truth isn’t still—it moves. It bends like these hills.

Maybe perfection isn’t enlightenment at all.

Maybe it’s the death of curiosity.

So I keep walking—legs strong, ears alert, mind open—grateful for every wrong turn that led me here.

Most shoes don’t just protect us — they disconnect us.

Oddly Robbie explores how modern footwear has numbed our natural connection to the world beneath our feet. From cowboy boots in Montana to barefoot walks in Spain, he discovers that our soles are sensory portals — each nerve ending designed to keep us balanced, aware, and alive.

Thick soles dull those signals. Tight shoes train us to ignore them. But walking barefoot — or in minimal shoes — reawakens something ancient: alignment, awareness, and joy in feeling the ground again.

Through stories of personal change and a barefoot yoga group by the Mediterranean, Robbie reminds us that freedom often starts where the ground meets skin.

We don’t need better shoes — we need less shoe.

Let your feet talk to the earth.

Start at the sole. Return to the soul.

Two reflections and a song — exploring how fame fades, greed dissolves, and kindness becomes the only true legacy

http://oddlyrobbie.blog/2025/10/30/freedom-beyond-illusion/

In AI Isn’t the Enemy, Oddly Robbie explores how artificial intelligence can be a bridge — not a barrier — between human creativity and technology. Blending music, empathy, and neurodiverse insight, he challenges the fear of AI in art and celebrates it as a tool for deeper connection and expression. With new songs, virtual worlds, and a major creative “level-up” on the horizon, Robbie invites readers to imagine a future where human emotion and machine logic play in perfect harmony.