I'm Q!
Designer. Maker.
Systems thinker.

Games teach you how to take on challenges stacked against you. Work and life are no different. The only question: given the board, how will you play?

Ideas don’t just appear. You train for them. Scribbles, scraps, silent reps. Practice when nobody’s watching so you’re ready when it counts.

The work isn’t about outdoing your best. It’s about showing up, writing through doubt, and stacking small steps until they become something bigger.

A problem is like a maze: no clarity, just walls and dead ends. The only way forward—scout, leap, map, move. And trust that together, you’ll find the way out.

Decisions aren’t clean. They’re messy. A conversation between your head, heart, gut, and hands. They collide, they argue. And when the moment comes, it’s always the same: a leap of faith.

Every rabbit hole has a lesson. Get lost in one long enough, and you’ll stumble into the spark that makes the whole thing worthwhile.

Noise is everywhere—loud, constant, relentless. The skill isn’t escaping it. It’s tuning in, tuning out, and learning to amplify what truly matters.

I used to hide behind polish. Now I share duct-tape prototypes and half-formed ideas. Not because they’re ready—but because trying is how you see.

Every setup carries its own lineage. Small tweaks, odd influences, old obsessions—all stacking until one small change shifts everything.

Think about what you need. Take the break when you need it. Be honest with yourself—before the work carries more weight than it should.

Clarity often comes sideways. Tilt your view, reframe the problem, squint at the shape—sometimes that’s all it takes to make the work speak back.

Running into the wind feels unfair. But maybe that’s the point — you don’t wait for perfect weather, you learn to move forward even when it pushes back.

Taking it easy. Catching up on rest.

Day one. Start run. Start recording. Out of breath. Out of shape. Out of excuses. What have I gotten myself into…

A sticky note on my desk says “run.” This morning, I didn’t—not from forgetting or giving up, but because today, grace mattered more than mileage.