Grateful for all the support, advice, and opportunities I’ve received throughout what has been a chaotic and whirlwind moment in my life. I’m still looking for full-time jobs in a less stressful environment than what I most recently experienced, but am fortunate to have several contract opportunities to work on in the interim.

Included in this growing set of projects was a wedding video for my friend and former coworker Katrina Youngs and her husband Ryan Youngs. They really allowed me to run with ideas and craft something special for them that I would consider a more “Indie” approach to a wedding video. Being a podcast-aholic, I really took a lot of inspiration from WNYC Radio's RadioLab and NPR's ThisAmericanLife, and wanted to blend that with what I consider to be somewhat of an Apple approach to storytelling. I shot ninety-nine percent of this with a Ronin S gimbal, a Sony A6500, and a DJI Pocket 2. Also recorded audio with my poor man’s Sony voice recorder. Edited it in Final Cut Pro. All that considered, I would love feedback on the final production so I can improve for next time.

A huge thanks to Ryan and Katrina for hiring me to document your celebration and create something for you two that I am so proud of. Special thanks to Sheila Clayton for being my “assistant” during the experience, and for accompanying me to practice her camera skills! Additional thanks to Matt Wilson, the Youngs’ extremely talented photographer for being so easy to work with throughout the day and planning process!

Today I’m going to take a moment to be vulnerable, and I apologize in advance for the length. I was just fired from ClusterTruck. I am incredibly upset, and I feel like garbage. Immediate thoughts that come to mind are that I am a failure, and maybe I should have been more aware that I was signing up for an inherently overwhelming situation as its Content Marketing Manager. What I do know is that the side effects of this past month and a half have left me with very real panic attacks that make it difficult for me to breathe and feel much self-confidence. I know it takes two to tango, and I try to live my life with that in mind. We are both at fault in this situation. 

Part of how it is my fault is because it is difficult for me to task switch between all the areas of responsibility I was given, and I wasn’t moving fast enough. Email marketing, social media management and posting, copywriting, graphic design, photography, video editing, and some other duties around the offices and kitchens. I say this so future workplaces understand and because it needs to be said more, but if I (or anyone I’d assume) is in social-listening and planning mode, it takes time to switch into graphic design mode, the same way that going from newsletter copywriting to photography also requires a different set of workflows. Maybe I’m an outlier. I don’t think it is impossible to do, but would argue each role requires a certain amount of respect of the craft and valuing the people whose whole jobs are in those specialties. Each area of focus is its own microcosm of skills and development. 

Maybe this is my fault for applying to such a wide-ranging role. I certainly would never structure a singular content manager with so much responsibility and expect them to remain sane. But I did want a creative role at ClusterTruck, and envisioned a less stressful feedback loop than I experienced in reality. Despite these unfortunate circumstances, I am truly grateful for the brief opportunity. What does bring me reassurance is that I had verifiable impact during my month. More than $100k can be attributed to my email and social efforts (double my salary), and just one month of my social advertising and strategy garnered ClusterTruck more engagement than their previous five months before I arrived. These results at a fraction of the cost we spent on branding, creative, and social advertising with an agency. And of course I am beyond thankful to all those who had my back and complimented the quality of my work despite such negative feedback from the CEO. 

I know most places don’t care about a person’s background or the circumstances they face. I don’t have generational wealth, but I have plenty of generational trauma. I have scraped and scrapped together my existence like many Millennials. I’m someone who suffers from depression and anxiety, am a recovered bulimic, have had one too many brain injuries, and was told last year by a medical professional that I’m probably on the spectrum. I think about these all the time now, how they probably make me a less marketable employee, despite that from a data-perspective I normally achieve pretty great results. And I don’t know what to do with all that information. When someone asks about a gap in my resume what should I say? “Well, I was going through some shit because it’s difficult to find an openminded organization that doesn’t overwork their employees to burnout and mental illness?” 

What I also know is that I approached HR and my former boss yesterday about the panic attack I was having because of several weeks of negativity from our leader while getting pretty consistent positive feedback from my colleagues. I was hoping for a more structured pathway to resolve the ways that feedback was not constructive. Instead I was fired without any conversation about that dynamic, other than “yeah he can be a bear.” Which is unfortunate, because I’ll tell you that knowledge does not exist in a vacuum, and I was warned by several friends after finding out I accepted a role there. No accommodations were made or even proposed. I was expected to bring thousands of dollars worth of my own equipment to do my job. And I was chewed out when trying to make a creative space above one of our kitchens so that we could create a systematic environment for capturing quality content. And I should be clear, I’m not trying to bash on them unnecessarily. They still make great food and I’m sure I’ll enjoy it at some point in the future. The majority of people I worked with were talented and amazingly helpful. I do think it’s important though to speak to my experience. 

So, if there are any takeaways from this vulnerable moment, it would be that I’m asking for your help. I HATE asking for favors, but if you can point me towards resources for getting help with my mental health, that would be amazing. If you can send me job opportunities (part-time, contract, or full-time if it isn’t the 40+ hour type) with organizations that offer mostly remote options, that would be appreciated. If you could take a moment to share this with someone who you think might be able to offer mentorship, I will sing your praises until the end of time. Please take a look at my recent video work and let me know what you think. I’d love to do more of that.

Thank you all for helping me to make a change in my life where I can find meaningful work telling stories, crafting creative content, and trying my best to be kind and respectful to everyone I encounter. 

A little late gloating, but for the first time in years I ran 100 miles in a single month!

We purchased a treadmill at the beginning of February. A year of pandemic life seemed like the right time for this particular indulgence. Nothing fancy, a lower-tier Nordic Track without Bluetooth, a screen, or even a USB port. Being in the living room next to an outlet and near a television these additions seemed unnecessary. It has a maximum speed of 12mph, a ludicrous pace I will probably never attempt being more of a slow-and-steady type of runner. Testament to that philosophy, since the February purchase I’ve run around 260 miles. Small potatoes for many runners, but a welcome achievement in reacquiring my distance running ritual. I’m also down twenty pounds!

Like many people, physical health and sustaining an exercise routine have always been elusive personal struggles. Mine have waxed and waned throughout injuries, accidents, moves, breakups, mental health episodes, jobs, heavy workloads, and more. Which is a shame because of how beneficial running particularly has been for my health and human growth.

In high school I ran for the cross country and track teams briefly, but it was primarily to lose weight. Running wasn’t enjoyable when I began with my hefty frame and fresh out of back surgery. I was a complete amateur, more likely to sit in my grandma’s dining room playing video games and drawing than finding a way to exercise. I knew no one who could be a running mentor, nobody in my family who even considered the sport useful unless “being chased by a wild animal.” I had no guidance and no concern for how dangerous an activity it can be, especially for someone with a spine still actively fusing with titanium rods.

It wasn’t the healthiest period in my life for a number of reasons. I’m not super proud of my eating habits or my running dynamic. As odd as it sounds, running didn’t become enjoyable until I slapped on a pair of Vibram Five Fingers, fixed (slowly and painfully) my form, and set out into the pristine beauty of the Austin Greenbelt. Next thing you know, I’m tearing through Born to Run and trekking half-marathons in sandals. It dawned upon me that in order to enjoy running, I needed to eliminate my pain points and make it ultra-accessible. Like living close to trails, using wireless headphones, wearing footwear and clothing made for the kind of endurance running I wanted to do.

Fast forward a decade and my love of running is one of the greatest joys in my life, hampered only on occasion by accidents like the broken foot I experienced most recently that kept me down and out for several months until I could rehabilitate it partly with rest and partly through controlled treadmill runs. Despite such setbacks, it feels truly wonderful to be running seriously again. So much so that I’m hoping to make 100 miles per month the default goal.

P.S. To the poor souls below my partner and I in our apartment complex: I am truly sorry for any noise you experience at the expense of my losing weight. ❤️🏃🏽‍♂️

More than five years of sustaining my life through marketing and creative work have passed. I’ve kept mostly quiet online and offline throughout this journey, contrary to my communications background. Partly from being busy and anxious. Partly from rebounding the opposite direction in response to what an oversized role social media plays in our lives and careers. 

But, what better a time than quarantine to set aside imposter syndrome and talk openly about what these artistic endeavors have been like? And maybe to make more of a habit of expressing these thoughts?

While appreciative for any opportunity to use my crafts to help others (especially for a good cause), this kind of work has taken a lot of patience for failing between successes. It’s gratifying, humbling, and sometimes panic attack-inducing. What began as an effort to make a living as a copywriter quickly morphed into developing an arsenal of skills in photography, graphic design, videography, and more depending on an employer’s immediate needs.

Lately I’m trying to make sense of the whole process and how to push forward in a more authentic direction, one that is personally fulfilling and meaningful in a worldly sense. A lot of my pandemic anxiety (besides health and existential that is) has been manifesting as a struggle feeling out what to write about privately and what to publicly shoot the shit about around the digital water cooler. More than anything, I question if my voice and identity are really all that important or useful. If so, how should I apply these parts of myself and life experience ethically and novelly?

Earlier in the 2010’s I’d experienced what I thought of as fulfilling work spending thirteen hour shifts in an animal shelter helping people adopt their next dog and/or cat family member. Some of those animals saw the absolute worst of humanity, and needed a world full of love to have any hope of recovery. It deeply affected my outlook on the world, and brought a sense of calm relief to help these creatures. 

One day while giving vaccinations and cleaning gnarly surgical wounds, the thought occurred of being able to use my creative hobbies to help animals in some way. Telling their life stories, creating portraits of them for loved ones, making media that might contribute to people respecting wildlife more globally. There’s a noble opportunity there. It’s a vision that has always been part of the ultimate endgame in the most realized version of my life’s arc. 

But all journeys require a first step, and each has its own distance markers. If this goal is a marathon, I’m at mile 10. While some of my efforts have benefitted animal organizations and causes, it isn’t the bulk of the work I do. Already though there have been some wonderful achievements and surprises along the way.

For instance, I never thought I’d be hired on the merit of my portfolio purely as a graphic designer. Someone liked my attitude and past multimedia work though, and soon projects like designing wraps for the next fleet of Indianapolis’s green energy buses landed on my desk. I didn’t think opportunities like managing the entire social and digital presence of the Indianapolis Art Center and Purdue Fort Wayne would cross my plate either, but a foundation in writing and public relations paved the way for that opportunity. Each subsequent success a welcome win against crippling self-doubt.

Each success and failure also a lesson learned in self-management. Lessons about growing a creative career. Lessons about mental health and the impact of trauma. What a sustainable workload means to me. What a company I want to be part of offers, looks like, and values. I’ve broken my body and been humbled by my luck and our amazing ability to heal from life’s many injuries. I’ve also gained wonderful friendships from my various office adventures and visits to freelance-land. Often with kind, talented people who I enormously respect. I’ve been reminded of how beautiful community is and why we need to prioritize togetherness—preferably offline when restrictions lift and vaccinations are in arms.

The coronavirus is currently acting as an amplifier of these lessons, reinforcing a drive to do ethical and useful work for worthwhile causes. Part of this renewal of spirit led to my decision to leave IndyGo recently in search of a more compatible, progressive culture. Despite being in a worldwide pandemic, I still think it’s a great idea to leave jobs that make you unhappy if the employer or responsibilities become too overwhelming. Frequent all-nighters, being the only graphic designer on staff (in light of all that organization’s visual needs), a lack of leadership and a stable team dynamic, and very little regard for employee health and safety amid a global pandemic: all contributed to one of the most stressful and incompatible career experiences of my life.

And that scenario isn’t uncommon unfortunately, often the result of an organization believing it can save money by downsizing a multimedia team into a multitool individual. It’s draining, it’s extremely mentally exhausting. Beyond creating a self-imposed wound on a brand, it puts so much pressure on one or few individuals to perform at superhuman capacity on an impossible to do list meant for distributed specialties. And then what happens? Poof, the multitool (see: my brain) breaks, needs to be repaired, and goes away for awhile in search of a different opportunity. The system is flawed.

Friends and family think I’m nuts when I leave jobs for ANY reason. “Why leave without having another job lined up?” “What about gaps in your resume?” To justifiably concerned souls, it is a risk to leave a company without a backup. But once you’ve hit a breaking point what option when leadership won’t listen to reason? Plus, searching for a job IS it’s own full-time job. Personally, I hope the world’s hiring managers are reasonable enough to see a gap on someone’s resume and to give them the benefit of the doubt that life is hard. We all need to take time to check our compass, see if we’re headed in the right direction.

While many find the struggle demoralizing, I mostly remain hopeful of finding the right culture fit. Careers in artistic content creation are notoriously hard to enter and maintain, but I’m willing to put up with the struggle because it feels thrilling to see a project succeed, to grow more capable with each finished result.

A tremendously motivating speech I think about constantly when working on projects is this video of Neil Gaiman addressing a crowd of college graduates. Gaiman says, “I knew that as long as I kept walking towards the mountain I would be all right. And when I truly was not sure what to do, I could stop, and think about whether it was taking me towards or away from my mountain.”

And indeed the past five years of strife have brought me closer to my mountain. I have a creative portfolio I’m proud of, growing each year with the weird concoctions of this weirder brain. I have some quite lovely feedback on my work and great references from people who’ve enjoyed being coworkers. I have decent health and the knowledge of what is enough to live a satisfying life. I have an understanding of the general direction I want to go, and causes I will and will not work for. Looking at you, Big Oil. 

One of the values the world is really hammering in right now and that I am truly excited to see adopted everywhere is workplace flexibility towards remote work and irregular schedules. Something the pandemic has made clear is the benefit of a well-designed home office—not to eliminate going into the office permanently, but for those times you really don’t need to be there to do your job. In many cases what we’re learning is these positions can be mostly permanent unless some travel or fieldwork is required. With this alternative staring directly at them, large organizations are realizing the cost-savings of not needing to rent large, prominent, and expensive buildings.

For someone with as troubled a medical and surgical history as myself, this seems like a missing piece of the puzzle. If these practices are adopted it means between meetings I can foam roll sore back muscles without office awkwardness or transporting gym equipment. It also alleviates frequent migraine symptoms instigated by atrocious fluorescent lighting (search your ceilings, you know it to be true). Most importantly, it means I have zero anxiety about my apartment building burning down with all my old animals inside and not being able to save them. You get the gist. There’s some healthy neuroticism here. But some logic as well that both makes fiscal sense and encourages our collective efficiencies.

Going forward I’ll be pursuing paths that bring my career in closer alignment with animal and environmental causes, and with a little luck more reasonable benefits and responsibilities. I hope the next five years are filled with equally rewarding and exciting projects, reflection, and growth. I hope the next workplace I land will be a better fit. I hope 2021 is a better year for the world. A year that offers healing from physical and cultural pain for as many people as possible. Another year to stay positive about making a difference where we all can, and to be lenient on myself when I cannot.