About Me
Based On A True Story
My name is Paul Hobson. I live in upstate New York, somewhere between waterfalls, old bridges, and the quiet hum of everyday life.
By trade, I work with my hands. I build, test, wire, measure, and troubleshoot. Precision matters. Details matter. If something doesn’t work, I fix it. If it can be better, I will make it better.
But this space isn’t about that.
Chronicles of Wasted Time is where I document the things that don’t fit neatly into a wiring diagram — the places I’ve walked, the photos I’ve taken, the books that lingered longer than they should have, the concerts that felt bigger than the venue they were played in.
I’m drawn to liminal spaces. Quiet roads. Fog rolling over stone. The kind of places that feel like they’re waiting for something.
I read a lot — horror, memoirs, philosophy, stories that unsettle more than they explain. I collect quotes the way some people collect tools. Words matter. They last.
I’m a husband. A father. A man watching his sons grow faster than feels fair. Part of this project is about holding onto moments before they slip. Not in a sentimental way — just honestly.
I believe in discipline. In paying attention. In sharpening your wits so you notice the wonderful things that are already there.
Chronicles of Wasted Time isn’t really about wasting time at all.
It’s about noticing it.
And trying, in small ways, to make it count.
Once upon a time, I ran a website—very much like this one—under my own name: PaulHobson.com. It was glorious. Clean. Personal. A small digital monument to whatever I happened to be obsessed with at the time. I wish you could’ve seen it.
But life, as it does, shifted. Domains expire. Priorities change. And somewhere in the shuffle, I let it lapse. By the time I went looking for it again, it was gone—claimed by the indifferent machinery of the internet.
So I chose a new name.
Dorian Roark is an amalgamation of two literary figures who left their mark on me. Dorian comes from The Portrait of Dorian Gray—Oscar Wilde’s meditation on beauty, corruption, and the hidden self. Roark belongs to Howard Roark, the uncompromising architect at the center of The Fountainhead. One represents the internal struggle; the other, defiant individualism.
Together, they make a fitting alias.
If you haven’t read either of these novels, do yourself the favor.
The noblest pleasure is the joy of understanding.
The energy of the mind is the essence of life.
Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known.
thedorianroark
