Once upon a time, there was a kid.

A curious kid. A distracted kid.

He was good at just about everything he tried, but never really great at any of it—or at least that’s what he thought.

He never really knew what he wanted to be when he grew up. He considered all the usual possibilities, but none of them seemed to fit.

That kid was me.

And in many respects, I am still that kid.

Over the years, I was a student, an artist, a painter, and a musician. I played trumpet, guitar, and sang a little. I worked as a photographer. I became a mechanic, a carpenter, and a handyman (though I never touched much electricity—well, that’s not entirely true. I did once. It didn’t end well, and I abandoned that particular adventure pretty quickly).

I cut lawns. I cooked. I became exceptionally skilled at taking things apart. In fact, I was so good at it that figuring out how things worked became one of my favorite ways to learn.

The truth is, I had the capacity to learn and do just about anything that captured my curiosity. And I did—at least for as long as that curiosity lasted. This still rings true.

I read everything I could get my hands on. I did that all the way through high school. And honestly, I still do that, too.

Then I graduated and still had no idea what I wanted to do with my life.

At the time, college didn’t feel like the right path, so I enlisted in the Marine Corps.

After a while, I learned that I didn’t quite fit in there either.

The Marine Corps wasn’t really for me, but some of it stayed with me. Oddly enough, it still has. The discipline. The resilience. The raw stubbornness. The understanding that sometimes you keep moving forward simply because that’s what needs to be done. If I am being truthful, I was always stubborn like that. 

Since then, I’ve held more odd jobs than I can remember, and every one of them left a mark. Lessons were learned. Impressions were made. Pieces of those experiences became part of who I am.

And now, twenty-seven years into a career in education, I find myself standing in front of newer generations of kids.

Even with everything I’ve experienced, there are days when it’s hard to connect with students who don’t seem to possess that same curiosity that drove me when I was young. Sometimes it makes me question what I do. Sometimes it makes me wonder whether I still fit in.

Then again, I’ve spent most of my life not fitting neatly into any particular box.

Truth be told, I don’t think there exists another entity quite like me. And thank God for that.

Along the way, I’ve collected even more hats.

Educator.

Teacher.

Coach.

Dad.

Husband.

Caregiver.

Disciplinarian.

And, on certain days, ass-kicker—because sometimes it feels like that’s the only way to get the message across.

I’m sure the kids have an entire collection of creative names for me, too. I won’t list them here.

But if you know, you know.

When I look back on my journey through life, riding this giant floating rock through the universe, I sometimes think:

Damn. I really did a lot.

I was good at a lot of things.

Still am.

I could have been any number of things. Maybe all of them. But I’ve come to realize that my journey was exactly what it needed to be.

Every job, every success, every mistake, every detour, every lesson—it all mattered.

Because in the end, after all the searching, trying, wandering, and wondering what I was supposed to become, I finally figured it out.

Turns out, all I was ever really great at was being me.

Not a mechanic.

Not a musician.

Not a Marine.

Not a teacher.

Not a coach.

Not any single title I’ve carried along the way.

Just me.

And after all these years, I’ve realized that’s more than enough.

There’s more waiting at https://xinkblotz.com. Telling stories, sharing thoughts, and drinking coffee. A blend of fiction, reflection, and whatever’s brewing – one post at a time. 

© 2026 Mariano Velez ~ InkBlotz Press