HERE I AM
Many people ask me how I got into writing, or poetry, or music, or anything. When did I start? How did I start? How do I keep doing it? My answer has been the same for as long as I can remember: I don't know. I guess I've been doing this forever. It's less of a matter of how I do it than it is how could I possibly stop? I create because I can't help it.
MY STORY
My mother likes to say I got my creativity from her, and I would be remiss to not mention her here. I probably don't mention her enough. Still, sometimes I think I am creative in spite of my parents. I distinctly remember walking upstairs on my thirteenth birthday to find my very own keyboard, which my parents were VERY clear that they were happy to pay for, but they would not be paying for lessons because they didn't stick with it. My oldest sister was always the most artistic one; drawing, writing, etc. I was the smart one. I excelled in school and was exceptionally proficient in math. Perhaps my parents assumed I'd follow in my father's footsteps and become an accountant. That being said, they didn't protest or complain when I suddenly decided to go to a university for film. They didn't nag me when I spent all of my free time in 2020 in a corner of their garage which I made my "studio" to start filming TikTok videos. They may have scoffed every time I brought up another mental illness I thought I might have, but they never made fun of the content I created, no matter how little they understood it or how shitty it was (and believe me, some of it was really shitty, and I was really proud of it). Maybe I was never given as much praise and support as I would have liked, but if that's the case, it's my own fault. I am a black hole of attention, and I will never be satisfied. What my parents did give me, though, was space, room to grow and bloom. It reminds me of a quote from a short story I wrote with my friend, Isabella Dorta.
Perfect things are rarely born perfect
Good things aren't simply good inherently
They are as good as they are allowed to be
Flowers, people, especially coffee
All need recourses and attention to bloom
THE STORY OF A KALEIDOSCOPE
In the book If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler by Italo Calvino, there is a section featuring a character who is obsessed with kaleidoscopes. He is taken by the concept of the endlessly magnified and reflected images in the little toys, and he becomes determined to become somewhat of a kaleidoscope himself. That is, to both magnify and reflect himself in countless ways; to make himself both great and elusive. He magnifies himself to become such a powerful man that he often fears for his life from opponents, and so he devises schemes where he hires doubles in decoy cars to "reflect" himself and thwart any plots. My goals are much different, but the metaphor gave me a way to better explain myself.
I, too, want to magnify myself. Why limit myself to just one thing? I want to do, well... everything I want to. I've produced music, I've published poetry, I've written award-winning short films, I have 150k+ followers on TikTok, 40k+ followers on Instagram, and I'm in the preliminary stages of starting a podcast and recording a musical. My goal is to be just famous/popular enough in any category that people only ever know me from one thing I do. Then they can discover me elsewhere and say, "Wait, isn't he the guy who sang this?" "Wait, isn't he that one guy who wrote that?" And in such a way I will magnify and reflect myself in a million different directions so that I am not any one person, but a different person from every angle you look at me.
Isn't that funny?
A classic is a book that has never finished saying what is has to say.
-Italo Calvino-
Contact
For fans, I am always available to reach by comment or direct message on TikTok or Instagram. For all business inquiries, you may contact me by email.