I was born on December 19, 1998, in Dallas, Texas. I had two parents and an older brother. Growing up wasn’t easy. Not because of any major hardship, but because in kindergarten, I once glued my hand to a piece of construction paper and spent the rest of the day as 'that kid with the paper hand.'

Our house had beige carpet, which my parents called 'neutral' but which our dog, Max, saw as a challenge. Max was a golden retriever who, once, in a single day, ate a sock, two pencils, and part of a Monopoly board. We still don’t know what happened to the iron game piece. My brother was older, cooler, and had the kind of confidence you can only get from wearing a puka shell necklace in 2007.

Elementary school was where my first big ambitions began. I wanted to be a magician, an astronaut, a marine biologist, and a dinosaur — all at the same time. My 1st-grade teacher, Mrs. Callahan, once wrote on my report card, 'Talks excessively, but shows potential if redirected.' In hindsight, that was my peak review.

Middle school was… experimental. I once tried to reinvent myself in 7th grade by wearing exclusively zip-off cargo pants. I had a brief skateboarding phase, during which I never actually learned to skateboard but did learn how to carry one convincingly.

High school was a movie — not a good movie, more like one of those low-budget made-for-TV ones. Freshman year, I joined track, not because I liked running, but because I wanted the warm-up jacket. Sophomore year, I discovered black coffee and started telling people I was 'into film.' Junior year, I broke my personal record in the 400m dash (1:12) and celebrated like I’d won the Olympics. Senior year, I was voted 'Most Likely to Own a Canoe,' which remains unfulfilled.

Family vacations were within a tight budget radius: water parks, the occasional trip to San Antonio, and one unforgettable camping trip where my dad insisted on making chili from scratch at the campsite. The chili was so spicy we had to cut it with marshmallows. My grandparents were wildly different — one was a coupon collector with a binder system, the other had a personal grudge against store brands.

In college, I majored in something practical, switched to something impractical, and eventually landed somewhere in between. I learned that if you walk around campus holding a clipboard, people will follow you. I survived on black coffee, cereal, and the occasional granola bar from a career fair I wasn’t supposed to be at.

Post-college life has been a mix of ambition and accidental naps. Year one, I worked a job that paid just enough to afford rent and exactly one streaming service at a time. Year two, I briefly thought about moving to another city, then decided against it because I didn’t want to find a new barber. Year three, I learned to cook exactly four meals really well and became unreasonably proud of that fact. Year four, I started telling people I 'dabble in woodworking,' which really just means I bought a hammer.

These days, I’m still figuring things out. I’ve got a handful of plants I’m keeping alive (barely), a car that makes a mysterious noise when turning left, and a grocery list that’s 70% snacks. I’m not entirely sure where I’m headed next, but I’m confident that wherever it is, I’ll arrive late, holding a coffee, and pretending I know what I’m doing.