Military Boots, Comedy Bits, and One Ad Class Later…

Throughout my life, figuring out what I wanted to do with my future has always been a wild, chaotic, caffeine-fueled journey. As a chronic overthinker with ADHD, new hobbies have always come and gone like seasonal trends, and the closer I got to graduating high school, the more panic set in. I had dreams that spanned drastically different worlds: military school one year, stand-up comedy the next. (Oh, and let’s not forget the brief but passionate "I want to be an actor" era.)

As I mentioned in my story tab on this site, I’ve always been labeled the "spirited one." The kid who couldn’t sit still, who treated the world like one big sandbox of possibilities. From childhood obsessions with military reenactments (yes, full gear and all) to summers coaching football or testing my limits in NYU’s acting program, I’ve always thrown myself fully into whatever caught my interest. But that same passion often came with confusion. With every new interest, I’d ask, “Is this the thing?” only to pivot again.

After transferring back home from American University and switching out of criminal justice, I found myself at the University of Miami with no real direction, until I stumbled into a Principles of Advertising course. That class wasn’t just interesting, it was a jolt. It connected the dots between my love for storytelling, humor, emotion, and the art of making people feel something. I realized that advertising, at its best, is a form of storytelling. It’s knowing how to spark a connection, deliver meaning, and stay rooted in truth.

What sealed it for me was how clearly I saw the connection between advertising and my lifelong love of film. If you’ve ever watched a movie with me, you know I’m the worst person to sit next to (or the best, depending on your tolerance for commentary). I pause every five seconds to yell, “Did you hear that music? That lighting? That scene had layers!” My family calls it annoying. I call it paying attention. From taking film classes, I learned that every shot, every line, and every pause means something, and advertising is the same. A great ad, like a great film, leaves you thinking. It gets under your skin in the best way. And if I can create something that makes someone want to rewind a commercial the way I rewind movie scenes? That’s the dream.

What really made it click? Learning about the role of an account director. I read the description and felt like someone had written a job around my personality. A natural empath who constantly thinks about how others are feeling, a detail-obsessed communicator who notices the little things, a leader who values collaboration and making people feel seen, yep, that’s me. The same traits that made me spiral in a classroom are the ones that make me thrive in the world of advertising.

I got to test that theory firsthand when I was selected as the account director for our senior capstone campaigns class. Suddenly, I wasn’t just imagining what this career could look like; I was living it. I coordinated timelines, managed internal communication, balanced personalities, and stayed two steps ahead so no one else had to. And the wild part? I loved it. I felt energized, not drained. Fulfilled, not fried. My professor and teammates even gave me props for the way I showed up, particularly in terms of my leadership, patience, and emotional intelligence. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was home.

Advertising has shown me that my overthinking brain, my spiraling heart, and my loud personality aren’t weaknesses. They’re tools. They help me anticipate what people want, understand how they feel, and deliver work that’s bold, honest, and grounded in real human insight.

So here I am, feeling wildly confident that I’ve found my thing. The one that makes my story make sense. The one that lets me use all the parts of myself I used to think were "too much."

I may not have joined the military, landed a Netflix comedy special, or become the next Spielberg. But I did find something that lights me up. And I’m ready to go all in.