Echoes of the Garage

In the past, I would’ve said nothing.

No belief. No hope. No anything.

But now—after years of grinding through the noise—I’ve learned that showing up is belief.

Our business, my art, my writing… I’ve been at it for a while. But it’s not time that builds you. It’s persistence.

I started drawing at five—as a punishment.

My aunt was trying to take English classes, and I wouldn’t stop running around.

To this day, she still doesn’t know English.

But that punishment became the first time I ever sat still long enough to create.

From there, I’ve lived a dozen lives:

An usher at Dodger Stadium, lying on concrete between innings just to rest.

A call center operator, answering phones all night while sketching ideas on sticky notes.

A guy selling chorizo out of a van, then plastic bags around L.A., then parking cars in an alley staring at another man’s house.

And somehow, through all that, I kept drawing.

Even when I didn’t know why.

Finding your voice in art is hard.

Maybe others find it easily. But for me, it’s work—constant work.

It’s understanding that there is no future… and yet, there is. Both at the same time.

At first, I thought the future was based on others—on who saw me, liked me, believed in me.

Now I know it’s based on me.

That’s my holiday: Keep Doing It Day.

A day to remind yourself that you don’t need proof.

Just keep doing it—reworking it, refining it, until it becomes something real.

Until you become something real.

Because that’s what the future really is:

Becoming.