These stones you see here; they are stacked stones. Who stacked the stacked stones? Well, I stacked the stacked stones. Why did I stack the stacked stones? Pecan pie. That’s why. I stacked the stacked stones to win a pecan pie; no lie. What other reason is there to stack stones? I couldn’t think of one. One shall stack if they wish to snack. And stack and stack and stack I did. I stacked the stacked stones l, so that I, could snack. And snack I did.

“I only count the sunny hours, brightest hours of day, I never count the gloomy hours; I let them slip away.” -Long Beach Dub AllStars, 2001 I started listening to Long Beach Dub AllStars religiously in high school. I was exposed to them quite some time before, but I really started resonating with their music Freshman year. Like all adolescents, my hormones began showing their ugly faces, as my face began to turn, well, ugly. I had the common worries all male teens have at that age; girls, grades, girls, relationships, girls, and fitting in; and girls. Combine all that with a hyper active mind and severe Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and your brain now resides in a prison cell rather than a skull. My bad days were BAD. My intrusive thoughts were relentless, and my self-esteem was barely existent. This took a toll on my outward perspective on relationships, school, and life as a whole. I kept to myself as much as humanly possible, wore my hood every chance I got, and drowned out the sounds of reality with my go-to coping mechanism; music. The Clash, Gorillaz, Westbound Train; full blast, all day, everyday. I scrolled through my dads old iPod and found the bright orange album, with the shirtless man with a green hairdo, and the lady in the cup. I shrugged my developing shoulders and started from the beginning. The first track was the opening instrumental; a nice, chill, synthesizer beat. The next track is the track that holds the lyric that made me question my attitude and my way of thinking; the lyric that would eventually become my soul’s mantra. The track is called “Sunny Hours”. The whole song is about cherishing the good days, and letting the bad days “slip away”. It encourages the listener to walk tall with their chin up. The bad days will pass, and the good days will come. The golden lyric that changed my psyche for the better was, “I only count the sunny hours, the brightest hours of day, I never count the gloomy hours; I let them slip away.” I’m not exaggerating when I say I had an epiphany at that moment. Ok, maybe I’m exaggerating a bit, but it seriously felt that way. I remember specifically noting how true this lyric was in that moment, and as weeks passed, I’d listen to THAT SONG whenever I was feeling mentally out of control. It reminded me that all ills will pass, and better days will come. I’ll focus on the sunny hours with all my effort, and I’ll eighty-six the gloomy hours with every fiber of my being. For a young, impressionable teen, this quote made such an everlasting impact on my outlook on life. It may have even been the first step to getting my intrusive thoughts under control. This is exactly why music is used as therapy; it opens ones mind to wisdom they may have never happened upon otherwise. And for that, I am eternally grateful.

I was taking Intro to Hip Hop and Music Production as an elective, and I really got into making beats. I had a friend during my Freshman year of college who wanted a trap beat that he could rap over. I learned the basics of Logic, brushed up on common 808 beats, and added my own personal flair to the piece. The track is titled "Labyrinth". It has a dark and tense undertone, like you're a traveler who got lost in an underground Labyrinth in Egypt. I would love to pick up music production again, and would enjoy making an album out of my first productions.

I’ve always been a quiet and observant child. Growing up in separate households and being exposed to “couples quarrels” (to put it nicely) from a very young age has definitely had its effect on my personality. I’m non-confrontational, the mediator, and shudder at the thought of arguing or violence. While this isn’t where the core of my struggles with mental health lie, I’m sure it’s played it’s part. The main by-product from these experiences was that it made me keep to myself almost exclusively for a very long part of my adolescence. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder runs in my father’s side of the family. He has it pretty bad, his mother has it worse. I, unfortunately, have OCD as well. While it affects 2.2 million of America’s adults, that’s still only 1.0% of the population. That means 99% of the population doesn’t directly deal with it themselves. Nowadays, it seems OCD has become an excuse to gripe when things aren’t aligned enough for ones liking, or something equally as trivial. I’m not saying this isn’t a valid OCD compulsion/fixation, but I feel people use this term unnecessarily and excessively, and it’s a tad bit frustrating. My OCD, however, manifests itself in a different manner. I believe it started to become apparent that I had OCD when I was about 10 or 11. It started with the compulsion to make noises or grunt until my brain was satisfied with how it “sounded” or “felt”. This persisted for a couple years. Next was the checking. The DARN checking. I feel this is a more common compulsion amongst those with mild to severe OCD. It is the compulsion to “check” or “repeat” actions over and over until one is satisfied with themselves. This includes turning light switches on and off, checking that plugs are plugged in to outlets completely, by unplugging and plugging them repeatedly, and similar “rituals”. Around the same time this was going on, my compulsive hand washing began, and I am not exaggerating when I say I washed my hands until they bled. This happened on multiple occasions. The worst OCD symptom of all, in my personal opinion, are the intrusive, irrational thoughts. Dear God, how I could do without these. Usually, these thoughts pertain to others rather than one’s self. They are the notions that if you do one thing, it will cause another thing to happen that will cause harm or distress to a loved one. To put it simply, it’s an evil, self-inflicted version of “If A, then B”. For example, I would think, “If I play Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 3 this weekend while I’m staying with my dad, then my mom will die in a fire caused by a plug I didn’t check before I left the house.” Sounds *expletive* crazy right? Well, it is and it isn’t. For those who don’t deal with OCD on a daily basis, heck yea it’s crazy, but for someone who does, not so much. Once I started exhibiting these habits, my parents would do their best to keep me in check. I’m honestly blessed to have the parents I do; they have been nothing but supportive throughout these years. They never berated me or dismissed the irrational thoughts I had, and rather talked me through what I was doing, and what I was thinking, and why they were irrational. I never had to see a therapist growing up, and eventually started to manage my thoughts, albeit not perfectly, at lot more efficiently on my own. However, there are instances where a child has OCD and neither of their guardians do, and they may not know how to deal with it, which can lead to dismissive behavior and downplaying the problem. Go ahead and tell an impressionable, developing youth that the dark and twisted thoughts they’re thinking are dumb and that they should just “STOP THINKING THAT WAY”. See what that does for them. I can tell you one thing, it isn’t anything beneficial to their well-being. In a lot of cases, it could very well lead to suicidal thoughts, and ultimately, suicide itself. No mental illness should be taken lightly. There are those who say, “Oh, stop complaining. You and your first-world problems.” Problems are problems; illnesses are illnesses. They should be taken seriously. Case and point. My call to action to those who don’t struggle with a mental illness is to make an effort to empathize with those who do. Sometimes, like in my case, those who have these illnesses will hide them from their friends intentionally or unintentionally. There’s no surefire way to know what’s going on in someone’s head, but the majority of young adults should have enough intuition to determine whether something might be wrong with the ones they are close too. Just ask them, “Hey, how’s everything going? You seem a bit distressed; are you alright? I’m here to listen if you need to talk.” This will go bounds and strides. My call to action to those who do happen to struggle with a mental illness like OCD, ADHD, Depression, Anxiety and the like, is to KEEP GOING. Seek help, and don’t keep it buried within. This will only make it worse, and you’ll never get the help you need. For some people, this help may be talking to a psychologist, while for others may be medication. I’ve spoken to family for the bulk of my life, and as of recent, I’ve started taking Fluoxetine to balance the chemical imbalances in my brain responsible for OCD. I can personally say, without a doubt, my compulsions have almost ceased and my quality of life was exponentially increased. I’m happier, more positive, and more eager to do the things I want to do. One thing is a fact; SUICIDE IS NOT, NEVER HAS BEEN, AND NEVER WILL BE THE ANSWER. If you keep your head up, things will always get better; it’s only a matter of time. I wish you all the absolute best. Stay strong.

2020 was without a doubt the most challenging and unique year of all my 23 years of living. I’m sure this is true for almost all of my gen-mates as well. The year where I was set to graduate with Magna Cum Laude and a Bachelor’s of Science in Design, with my family sitting in the crowd cheering me on, was the year COVID-19 ravaged our everyday way of living. Not having a formal graduation was rather lackluster, to say the absolute least. Human resilience allowed for Arizona State to make the best of the given situation, and proceed with a virtual graduation, which was honestly quite heartwarming. They managed to adapt to the given circumstances, and bestowed the best substitute of a graduation ceremony for the class of 2020. With that, I was off to, well...isolate myself in my one bedroom apartment, away from friends; from family. Compile that with a severe case of OCD and you have a pretty somber existence. My plans to move to San Jose, CA and start my design career were nixed, and I was expected to find work in Tempe to support myself during the exposition of the pandemic. With applications sent out, I was unable to land a job. I eventually applied for emergency unemployment, and that has been my primary source of income ever since. Fast forward to June, and I’m talking on the phone with my mom. After a couple weeks of persistence, she asks me once again to come to Superior, AZ to stay with her and my brother. My thoughts get the best of me and my mental just...collapses. I won’t go into detail about what was going on in my head, but long story short, as much as I wanted to go and stay with them, I couldn’t convince myself I didn’t have COVID and couldn’t bring myself to risk bringing it into their household. I eventually went to get tested, and once I received my negative results, I isolated within my home for two weeks, NO EXCEPTIONS. During this time, I went from 183lbs to 160lbs, as I ran out of food and refused to leave to restock. I finally packed my bags and dog, Frida, into my Civic, and made the hour-long trek to Superior, AZ. I arrive emaciated and just started bawling in my mother’s arms. Thanks COVID. My time here in Superior has been crucial to my mental rehabilitation, and I have started taking medication to mellow out my OCD. Most notably, I’ve gotten to spend time with my mom and younger brother. So what does all this have to do with my future exactly? Well, it gave me A LOT of time to think. One night, I was in a chat room on Discord with my best friend of 8 years, and we were just talking about what a year it had been, and what we planned on doing now that our plans were null and void. I didn’t really have an answer at that moment, and eventually, we ended the call. As I lay in my bed, I’m thinking about college, what I learned, and what I really wanted to do. Deep down, I’ve always wanted to help people feel better, and improve the quality of one’s life in any way that I could. I wanted to pursue medical design at one point, but didn’t want to deal with hospitals and whatnot. Too much for my brain to handle. My focus shifted towards tool design, which is cool, but not what I really wanted to do. Then, my epiphany was had. Medical design encompasses so much more than just “hospitals”. Physical therapy, chiropractic, and kinesiology all fall under the “medical” umbrella. This route was so much more my speed, and this way, I would be able to help people by designing fine-tuned and affordable treatments and assistive devices for their ailments. Though, I didn’t want to just settles for a medical design consultancy; I wanted to really push the envelope. I called my friend back, and asked how he felt about possibly going into business together, and being the optimistic and easy-going guy that he is, he was intrigued. His family is comprised of all sorts of therapist and medical professionals, which would fit our business concept perfectly. This would be a family business, but more importantly, a new business concept that has yet to be seen thus far. We were, and are, stoked to say the least about what this could become. This is now my primary goal that I am working to achieve; and this would have never been a possibility if it weren’t for the curveball 2020 threw at us. If the term “double-edged sword” had a year associated with it, it would without a doubt be 2020.

Design thinking has been a part of my life as far back as when I still rode trikes. It all started with my favorite toys, wooden building blocks. I would sit on my little “town rug” (I don’t even know what the name of that rug was, but I feel most know what I’m referring to) and build block cities for hours. Once I’d finished one, I’d knock all down and start from square one. From this point forward, I would always have an indirect appreciation for design and the arts. Fast forwarding through my adolescence, Art and English would become my favorite subjects in school. I could express myself physically, mentally, and emotionally through these subjects. I later developed a love for Physics, as I was able to begin applying my ideas in a way that the laws of nature allowed. We reach a couple months before high school graduation, and I was to begin applying for college. I always, and solely, wanted to attend Arizona State University. As for my major, I had settled with Landscape Architecture, as it combined two of my favorite things, nature and design. This was my final decision. At least I thought it was. I let my dad know that I had decided on Landscape Architecture as my major; and he offered another career that would prove to be exceptionally more versatile; that career being Industrial Design. I had known my father attended ASU for Design, but I wasn’t to keen on what type of design it was. He essentially explained to me, Industrial Design is the “Jack-of-all-trades” of design paths. You can earn a degree in Industrial design, and eventually find work in any subset of design, excluding architecture. This was a shock to me, as I never would have thought that by earning a single degree could open that many more career paths. After conducting my own research on Industrial Design, I didn’t hesitate to apply to the program. A couple weeks later, I heard back from ASU, and it turns out I was accepted. This all had happened so fast, I didn’t really know how to feel. So with that, I began my design journey. To makes things more succinct, I’ll speed through my college experience to where I am now. Freshman year, we design majors had to pass a milestone evaluation to officially be accepted into the Industrial Design program. Out of roughly 100 students, 60 or so would apply and only 32 or so would actually be accepted. I spent my year working and learning how to sketch, all whilst building my milestone portfolio. Long story short, I made it in. Over the course of the four years, my interest had shifted from medical design, knife design, furniture, and outdoor equipment. I’ve always been keen on providing help and assistance to those who need it, no questions asked. With medical design, I would be able to do this for a living. Designing equipment and services that make patients’ and doctors’ experiences in the hospital more tolerable and efficient. This spark quickly started to dim, however. There was a length of time in my young adult years where I had to be in and out of hospitals, for familial reasons. During this time, I developed a complex of being in a hospital environment, whether it was for others or myself. Hearing the sounds of those in pain, grieving, and disdain proved to have a lasting effect on my emotional psyche. With taking all this into consideration, my passion for medical design had faded. However, there is more to medical design than hospitals, I soon realized. Now here we are, in the present, in the middle of a pandemic. My plans to move out of Arizona and start working for a design consultancy didn’t pan out, and I had to move back in with family for the time being. Not working and yearning for something more allowed me countless hours to think about what it was that I really wanted to do with my future. And randomly, one night, my yearning had yielded an answer. Rehabilitative and Assistive services. My new goal is a five-year plan. I can’t reveal too much as we are in the sensitive stages of development, but what I can say is that it is an entrepreneurial endeavor that will combine two very much needed services into one system; a system that will provide clients with the physical therapy they need, while simultaneously benefiting the design industry greatly. My first step is currently underway, and that step is obtaining my Master’s of Science in Design at Arizona State University. I could not be more motivated to unveil what the future holds for myself and the design community, and eventually help those who need it the most.