I was born. I drew on the walls. I made my own comics. I skipped the first grade. I drew my first mascot. I drew my first shirt. I drew my senior shirt in high school.

I took a class to learn how to get better at design. I took another class. I got so good at that class I got hired to tutor that class.

I designed a podcast logo. I designed some more shirts. More shirts. More logos. Some flyers. Some music covers. I kept working.

I got some jobs. At start-ups. At medium-sized agencies. At small agencies. At tiny agencies. I got fired. And I quit. A lot. I didn’t fit in. I got discouraged. I felt like life fell apart.

I kept working. A lot. Then people started asking me for work. People you know. Gang Starr. Spike Lee. The D.O.C. But also, my friends. My peers. People I knew.

And working. I got my heart broken. I moved home. I kept working. More work. Some success. Some failure. More quitting. A couple refunds. More success. One of my heroes asked me to work with him. And everything changed.

I made something that sold out in a day. I made the best pitch one of my clients had ever seen. I made something that got put next to the GRAMMY logo. I got bootlegged. I kept working.

And now I’m here.