Hunched over and sweating, I pulled the squeegee across the screen to print the last of 200 t-shirts.

I had been in this basement relentlessly, day in and day out, for the past two weeks.

My routine was a cycle of attending classes, rushing back here after school, and starting early each morning.

This basement, tucked beneath my friend's barbershop not far from Portland State University, was the birthplace of my little print shop.

While pursuing my degree in Architecture, I discovered and honed the craft of screen printing. It quickly evolved into my side hustle.

After completing the final t-shirt of the order, I took a moment to step back. I captured the moment with my Sidekick phone. Who remembers those?

That job netted me a profit of $1,200.

Honestly, at the time, I thought I made it in life. I had made more money from that one job than I did from my regular job working a bowling ally in a month.

The basement was more than just a workspace. It was a hub of creativity and life, a place where I experimented, completed homework, entertained friends, and most importantly, nurtured my creativity.

This modest print shop eventually blossomed into a million-dollar enterprise, securing contracts with giants like Nike and the Trail Blazers, along with countless schools.

As I snapped that picture, my immediate thoughts were practical – the money would cover my gas, food, and living expenses for the next few months.

I had invested my financial aid and school grants into the bare essentials of equipment, stretching every dollar into this venture.

Looking back, I am filled with pride for my younger self. Clueless yet bold, I threw myself wholeheartedly into my ideas, capitalizing on my one true talent.

I didn't think it would fail; in fact, I was winning because I was doing what I loved.

Today, that same mindset drives my narrative.

Experiment, it's not the end of the world if something doesn't work out.

I rather die trying than live with the thought of not giving it my all.