There’s a blurry memory that hit me like a freight train today.
I was in preschool, sitting cross-legged at a tiny table, probably jacked up on a juice box, when I drew a pee-pee on a cheetah.
That’s it. That’s the memory. A tiny act of rebellion—but one that perfectly captures the spirit I’ve carried my whole life.
I didn’t know I’d get in trouble, not really. I was just being silly, doing what felt funny in the moment. But when the other kids started laughing—and one girl even screamed—I felt it. The whole room shifted. Then the teacher came rushing over, grabbed me by the arm, and scolded me with a big, scary finger in my face. It was chaos, and I was the cause of it.
🖍️ When a Crayon Becomes a Catalyst
Somewhere in that moment, I registered something bigger: art has power.
A goofy little drawing—done in crayon or whatever preschool weapon I had—could change the whole energy of a room. It could spark laughter, shock, disapproval. It could make people feel something. I didn’t have the words for it then, but on a subconscious level, I knew. I felt the ripple.
Since then, I’ve always been that kid looking for a way to do something just a little off. Something that bends the rules or flips the script. Not to hurt, but to provoke. To shake up the norm and stir a reaction. Ants in my pants. Class clown. Idea saboteur.
That unorthodox thinking? It goes all the way back.
🔧 “Don’t Touch That, It’s Hot!”
I remember this vividly: a tea light potpourri burner. You know the kind—ceramic, scented, vaguely medieval. My mother told me, very clearly, "Don't touch this! It’s hot!” So naturally, within minutes, I touched it. Screamed. Cried. Probably left a bit of myself behind on it.
This wasn’t defiance for the sake of being a brat. It was just… curiosity overriding common sense. It was the need to know, to experience, to understand why rather than just accept because someone said so.
🎭 When the Assignment Becomes a Hat
In grade school, when we’d walk into a classroom and find construction paper or popsicle sticks neatly pre-arranged on our desks, most kids would wait for instructions. Not me. I was the kid folding it into a hat or turning it into some chaotic invention before the teacher could even start talking.
I wasn’t trying to be disruptive. I was trying to play with the potential of whatever was in front of me. That tendency never left.
🙃 The Problem With “Just Fitting In”
These days, I make for a pretty terrible employee. I can’t help but peek behind the curtain—try to figure out what’s really going on. Why the system is the way it is. Why we pretend certain things are important when they’re not, and vice versa. I'm a great worker. But I can’t just blend into the background. It makes for interesting endeavors, sure, and some absolutely wild stories, but it also makes stability feel like wearing a straitjacket in a sauna.
The question that creeps up constantly is: What am I going to do with myself?
🎨 I Sit Still When I Make Things
The only time I really sit still is when I’m making something. Drawing, designing, printing, producing, writing. That’s when everything else shuts up. That’s when all the internal chaos forms a single line. When I’m creating, I can actually think clearly. Which, ironically, means I end up thinking about everything else too.
My brain never stops. It’s always testing, bending, remixing. It’s exhausting. It’s powerful. It’s… me.
🧭 Know Your Operating System
I think the theme here—the real takeaway—is this:
Understanding how your brain works is crucial to navigating your life. Your internal operating system might not be built for the traditional path. That doesn’t mean it’s broken—it just means you have to learn how to use the interface, so to speak.
For me, that means embracing the chaos. Finding structure inside the madness. Turning the weird instincts into design, storytelling, and meaning.
Finding the outlet before the pressure explodes.
So if you’ve ever felt like “I don’t know what to do with me either”—you’re not alone.
But maybe the point isn’t to do something with yourself.
Maybe it’s to be yourself, unapologetically, and build a life around how you work. Not fitting how you work into some semblance of life you didn't want in the first place.
Even if that means occasionally drawing genitalia on jungle cats.