Being complacent is kind of like a video game with only side quests. You’re still leveling up, but you’re not actually getting anywhere.

In 2017, I quit my job and dropped out of college to pursue a career in web development. While my decision to attend a code bootcamp left me financially unstable (like, living off of credit cards unstable), it wasn’t the uncertainty that scared me. Instead, I feared what would have happened if I continued down a path that I knew wasn’t meant for me–and to be okay with it.

Since my graduation from bootcamp, I’ve had opportunities that I could have only dreamed of back then. From live-streaming with Adobe to traveling to different tech conferences and becoming a part of the community—I’ve learned more in the past three years than I could have ever hoped.

So, I’ve lived these past few years with the mentality to embrace change and new beginnings. But, what happens when you’re not sure if you’re complacent or impatient?

A huge part of that growth came from being part of the team at MindTouch—my first company job out of bootcamp. I remember touring MindTouch while I was still in bootcamp, and I left that day thinking that one day—maybe if I work really hard—I’d get the opportunity to work there, or somewhere similar.

In fact, I sat right there in that blue chair on the right when I first started the dream. The workplace and energy were infectious, and all I wanted was to be a part of it.

To make a long story short, I ended up being offered a position not too long after I graduated! The tale of being interviewed for a developer position vs. being hired on as a designer is a story for another time.

Over the years at MindTouch, I’ve grown in visual design and recently made the switch to the Product team to pursue Product Design.

Product design taught me a lot about myself and what I want in a career. While I enjoyed the new challenges, I began to realize that I was only getting to visually design maybe 10% of the time. Granted, I knew this when I accepted the position. I thought that it would be good for me to specialize in the business and research side of design. Though, as the months waned on, I realized that I felt stagnant because I was no longer growing in the direction that I wanted to.

I was learning, growing, and I had the privilege of being employed during the pandemic—what was there to complain about? I felt guilty for longing for something else. How could I be so selfish as to want to leave only to work on projects that I’m genuinely passionate about?

I started taking on more side projects outside of work to fill that void. But, eight months later, I still had the same feeling of being stuck. So, I knew something had to change.

Being complacent is kind of like a video game with only side quests. You’re still leveling up, but you’re not actually getting anywhere.

That’s exactly what was happening to me—I guess I just really enjoyed grinding for a while. MindTouch had given me the opportunity to sharpen my skills and grow in the direction that I needed (and wanted to) since my employment began. And these skills were 100% needed to open the next door. So grinding isn’t all that bad.

Being young in my career, I realized that I may be limiting myself in the long run if I stayed longer. Loyalty and perseverance are important in your career; so this isn’t me advising to jump around a lot. But knowing when to recognize that it’s time to grow and explore is pivotal.

• Is what you’re looking for something that your current company can provide?

• How would the decision to leave help you be closer to where you want to be in 3-5 years?

• Is the other company better aligned with your goals, values, and beliefs? Will this help you work towards the person you want to be?

• Let’s fast forward 50 years. How would you tell this part of your story? Would you be proud to tell it?

• What’s the worst-case scenario of staying vs leaving? Which of the two is actually worse?

Saying goodbye is always hard. And taking the necessary steps to get there is challenging. Though, I’m proud to say that I’ve now gathered the strength and courage to open the next door.

So glad you asked. Next up, I’ll be joining the wonderful team at Webstacks as their UI/UX Designer! Here, I’ll get to design specifically for the web, which is where my heart is. Tomorrow’s my first day, so I don’t have much for you yet. So stay tuned.

Thanks for kicking it with me, and if you’re in a similar position of hesitance, my DMs are always open!

new beginnings

A year ago, I moved into my own place to build the creative environment of my dreams—one I could use to cultivate ideas and rediscover myself.

This space (appropriately named Kate HQ) would be the catalyst for focusing on my art, writing, and other endeavors. I had spent the three years prior doing this to some degree, but I was ready to go all in. I wanted the experience to allow me to come fully undone; I was prepared to spend a year of my life focused on what it means to pour myself into my creative expressions and learn who I am at my core.

https://twitter.com/kate_kassab/status/1386054020997869569?s=20

And now that that year has passed I can confidently say: I couldn’t have predicted a single fucking thing that happened.

tldr; this past year ended up being about the pain that solitude can dig up, my journey for clarity, and accepting that just because a decision is painful, that doesn’t mean it’s the wrong one. i’m using this blog post as an indicator of where i’m at, where i’ve been, and as a way to publically hold myself accountable for what I’d like to accomplish moving forward. so uh here we go.

—

I could sit here and tell you all about the thoughts that come with spending prolonged periods of time alone.

The questioning of everything, the constant self-doubt, the inevitable shadow work you have to face from spending every waking moment with only your own company. The time and space to be alone introduced new ways of thinking. While there were bursts of being motivated about a new beginning, it dug up a lot of old pain.

As a highly independent person that’s always thrived in solitude, this twist was shocking (and really frustrating). I didn’t think that living alone would be such a different type of alone that would make me have to, like, face things.

Anyway, this was something that I ultimately chose so I refuse to create some sad narrative around it. And besides, it hadn’t always been like that.

The months leading to what I’ve labeled as my “kinda-on-time-midlife-crisis” were filled with so much: creating in Blender almost daily, making youtube videos, rediscovering my love for poetry, writing, so many late nights at euphoric levels from what I was creating... I felt inspired. I felt like myself.

But then uh take any sense of self I had and throw it out a window.

Looking back, there really wasn’t a defining moment of change. But suddenly my priorities had shifted; I’m only 23, I thought, why am I so obsessed with my output? Why is my sense of self so closely correlated to what I share with the internet?

The constant introspection and questioning is a common theme with me and this isn’t the first I’ve written about it (reference: How Social Media and NFTs Have Affected the Way I View my Art)

But for the first time, I started to resent my decision to focus so heavily on my work and career. While I’m incredibly privileged to work in tech and enjoy spending so much time online, I began to mourn the youth I lost because of it.

I started my career at 20. I turn 25 this year.

When I reflect on the past 5 years, all of the main memories I have are about work, or because of work, or somehow connected to the grind.

I’m tired.

I needed to get to know myself outside of work. I’m more than an artist. I’m not just a designer. I sought to remember what life was like without the constant pressure of what to create next? Because honestly? I didn’t care anymore.

So I stopped.

I spent more time with loved ones. I stayed up late to play video games instead of in some rabbit hole about Blender. I went out and enjoyed being in my mid-twenties. I loved and fell out of love. I learned to be vulnerable. I traveled. I took risks and made mistakes. I learned to just sit in silence. I accepted my shortcomings (like how I will never be good at cooking) and took the time to recognize growth.

It’s funny; it took the time to be stagnant in my art to experience so much internal growth—the kind of growth I actually needed.

This article is giving live, laugh, love and I’m sorry but it’s all true.

Having healed and ready to live, laugh, love my way into 2022, I tweeted this.

https://twitter.com/kate_kassab/status/1485458803722121224?s=20

Not to be dramatic, but this yerba mate was not fucking around, took me way too literally, and marked the beginning of some of the hardest times of my life (all within a 5-month span).

Family struggles. Finding out the mental health diagnosis I’ve had my whole life is a misdiagnosis and I’m actually facing something much larger. Pushing people away because of it. Ending a long-term relationship as collateral. Having little to no support system as a result. Making decisions I never would have in the past and no longer recognizing myself. Realizing staying up for days at a time isn’t a ~creative breakthrough~ but actually a manic episode. Trying not to let any of this affect my work after being promoted into a senior position. Questioning what I really want out of my career long-term. Just trying to keep it together.

I’m not writing this out of pity for myself, but I think it’s important to share; too often do we fall into thinking that people are a reflection of what they share on the internet when usually that’s so rarely the case. We’re all hurting to some degree. It’s just easier not to talk about it.

Already it’s been more than a year of living on my own.

A year of high highs and low lows, but I don’t think I regret much. And the parts that I do, I’ll learn to accept.

But moving forward I need to do something with this space, this time, these emotions.

Might as well take the pain and finally put it to good use.

However, I am incapable of holding myself accountable for ANYTHING. So that is why I’m here with this horribly drawn-out blog post—I figure if I write about my goals and share them then maybe I’ll actually stick to them??

OK SO, friends and strangers on the internet, as I look to revisit creative work this is what I’m prioritizing:

• Getting back into Webflow and actually updating my portfolio. It’s been years since I’ve updated it and I miss working in no-code tools.

• Building said portfolio in public (tweeting live updates etc)

• Giving more time to Blender. I likely won’t be able to share things daily (like in this thread…though that was hardly daily lol), but I’d like to share progress weekly at least.

• Writing more for this Substack. Writing is always where my heart will be. Whether it be about design, 3D, or life in general, I’d like to start using this space more often.

And that’s it.

ok bye If you’ve made it this far, congrats on getting through this (highly personal) article. I spent too much time going back and forth on if I wanted to share this. But I hope it resonates with someone out there that may be going through something similar.

Here’s to chaos and all that it brings—even when we’re the least ready for it.

love, kate

(original article was written on nov 26, 2021)

A question for my fellow artists: when you think of social media, do you view it as a tool or a place for self-expression?

I believe the most common response would be using it for both. Expressing ourselves through sharing our art online is so fulfilling; we can connect with the world through what we create. And then, there’s always the potential of an opportunity arising simply by existing on the internet—so it’s like the “tool” part is almost there subconsciously.

The beautiful thing is that it’s truly a choose-your-own-adventure.

Wanna toss the idea of upkeeping a personal brand in the trash and use social media as a way to capture your art at a point in time—all while embracing shitposting? Go for it! Or, use it purely for networking and as a means to spread your name. That’s cool, too.

I personally prefer the former.

While having options may sound like common logic, I’m writing this because this year the line between “sharing art for self-expression” and “sharing art as means to create opportunities” became incredibly blurred for me.

When NFTs (more on this later) began to pick up traction in February of this year, I felt like I went through a creativity re-birth, but nearly at the cost of how I perceive my art. The sudden opportunity to monetize and build around my art (which was only ever meant to be a hobby solely for myself) began to take away from the real reason I was creating.

And for all of the years that I’ve been chronically online, there have definitely been moments when social media has challenged the way I think about my online presence. I personally never want to think: “Will tweeting this fit my personal brand?”

The past year has been filled with pressures to become growth-driven if you exist on the internet as a creative. Don’t get me wrong—this is an incredibly exciting time for artists, musicians, and creatives alike. But as someone that initially wanted to keep my 3D renders separate from my professional life, I’ve felt incredibly conflicted.

My path wasn’t clear anymore.

Through the trials and tribulations of this past year, I want to take a moment to reflect on how social media and the rise of NFTs have impacted the way I view my art—which, spoiler: is the same way I would if those things didn’t exist.

August 2020 came with the sudden realization that I had started to lose myself in my creative work—and not in a good way.

There isn’t much separation between my professional creative work and my personal creative life. This is due to the majority of what I do—web design, writing, content creation, whatever-the-hell-else designers do, etc—not only sharing a big part of my life but being shared to the internet.

If you know me on the internet, you know who I am outside of the internet. There’s no persona, no distinction, no alt account; find me retweeting some Final Fantasy memes one day and posting elaborate articles like this the next.

As much as I enjoy sharing so much of myself, I found that the lack of distinction between Online Kate and Kate started to eat at me. After 10 years of having everything I enjoy shared and perceived, it all started to lose its color. Then, I began to resent it. I didn’t have anything that felt like it was my own anymore.

I stopped drawing. I played video games less and less. I switched from reading fiction to reading design/tech books. All for the sake of being productive in pursuit of this false idea of “success” and bringing value to those around me.

Truthfully, I should have seen this coming. The pipeline of edgy artist on Tumblr circa 2012 to workaholic in tech is very real. Though at least with shitposting on Tumblr, I knew who I was and other people’s influences didn’t seem so loud.

Long story short: I needed to create solely for myself again.

After some spiraling and deep reflections, I decided that I needed to separate myself and what I create from the internet for a while.

But, as someone that hates being idle, it became ✨new hobby time✨

If you know me, you’ll know that my fascination with tech started at a very young age with video games. Long before I stumbled into web design, I dreamt of working in the gaming industry as a narrative designer. But as with most dreams, it died. (jk)

https://twitter.com/kate_kassab/status/1413643780356382720?s=20

As homage to the reason I pursued a creative field, I sought out learning 3D so I could recreate some of my favorite video game characters, consoles, weapons, etc. The catch: this would solely be for me. Just me, my PC, and some good ole learning for the sake of it being interesting.

Mini rant: why in this god-forsaken digital age does everything seemingly feel like it has to have a purpose??? Like, does everything need to be documented and shared? It’s draining. Anyway.

For the first time in a long time, my creative work recharged me. I saw limitless possibilities in this new world and all I wanted to do was learn, create, and repeat.

I was happy.

The reason you presumably chose to read this article. Right. Tragic backstory over.

In a moment of weakness, I decided to start sharing a few of my personal 3D pieces in a progress thread on Twitter. Yeah, yeah. It goes against everything I just said—I am embarrassingly aware. Even though I was only sharing a small amount of what I was actually creating, I felt shame…something about the internet being an inescapable void or whatever.

https://twitter.com/kate_kassab/status/1293706333578035200

But because of it, I started receiving DMs from people telling me that my work would make good NFTs.

I had no idea what an NFT was, and after multiple google searches, I was still clueless (this was in December 2020 - a bit before it started gaining traction so there were virtually no resources available). It was clear to me that NFTs were still in their infancy, but instead of digging to learn more, I shrugged it off. I had already decided that any spare time would be spent in Blender working on my art.

Little did I know the two would go hand-in-hand.

Fast-forward to February 2021 and NFTs are all over my timeline.

“alright i’ll bite what’s an NFT”

“anyone have a spare FND invite?”

“i just left my trad job to work on web3 lfg”

It was at this moment that I realized I’d be doing myself a disservice by not, at the very least, learning about everything.

I learn best by just doing (otherwise I’ll sit here and think myself into a void), so I listed my first two pieces on FND thanks to an invite from @jstn. These are two pieces that were created before I even knew what an NFT was.

https://foundation.app/@kate/foundation/323

https://foundation.app/@kate/foundation/322

To put it simply: what started as “oh wow this whole blockchain thing seems pretty cool, but I’m really trying to avoid seeing this creative outlet as work” avalanched to reigniting the creative spark I had been so desperately trying to find.

Since February, I’ve listed and sold my first few pieces on Foundation; I gave a talk about the creator economy at Webstacks, my full-time job, with my good friend and coworker Brady; started doing contract web3 design work for MintSongs (an NFT marketplace for music), and I was recently accepted to Friends with Benefits—a DAO focused on the intersection of culture and technology.

I was also honored to see that I was listed in a group of amazing artists as Cooper’s prediction for creators that’ll make it big in a year.

https://twitter.com/Cooopahtroopa/status/1446373964389904385

As amazing as this all was, I needed to figure out how to approach this long-term. I knew that if I went 100% in with a hobby that I fell in love with, I’d grow to resent it as ideals would become attached.

While it’s enticing to go all-in on NFTs, I’m deciding to take my time with what I choose to mint. I have never made something with the sole intention of it being an NFT, nor do I plan on it. I will always start with the art itself; if I think a piece belongs onchain, I’ll decide that once it’s complete.

My art and learning journey will always remain my priority when spending time in Blender. I personally don’t ever want to start a project by thinking “to mint or not to mint?” To me, that’ll make it work—here for vibes, not burnout.

https://twitter.com/kate_kassab/status/1444719011917221892?s=20

And, sorry, but I’m not going to be pressured into going full NFT artist to make another one of my passions feel like work for the sake of social status or capital gainz.

I’m not a brand; I’m more focused on my longevity as an artist and human being.

Don’t get me wrong—I’ve spent the last few months really overthinking that question.

Am I missing out by not going all-in on web3 and the emerging world of NFTs? What if I regret not positioning myself and my art better? Why can’t I just sacrifice another hobby when it’ll likely bring so much into my life?

And the answer is: diamond hands on my integrity and what makes me happy 😤😤 (lol ew that was stupid) But really, it just doesn’t feel right for me personally. Gotta go with my heart on this one.

My latest piece ‘overthinking’ captures exactly what I was going through and what I was feeling. If I decide to mint this piece or not is still up in the air as it’s incredibly important to me.

https://twitter.com/kate_kassab/status/1460342087816290308?s=20

Everyone’s take is different. And my personal take isn’t meant to discount artists that are on the grind—the NFT movement is one of the greatest steps towards creative freedom in our lifetime. The excitement and energy around this space are unlike anything I’ve experienced; it’s hard not to want to go all-in.

Nothing makes me happier than supporting my friends in this space. The creativity and hard work that’s being put into this community are truly inspiring.

And if you’re looking for some new artists to follow, please hmu! I’ve got you.

For a while, I would wonder: “Why can’t I just be like the rest of the community? What’s holding me back from grinding like they are?”

And after a bit too much thinking, I realized:

Opportunities to grow into new ways of thinking are good; sacrificing my personal morals because of FOMO is not.

If you’re feeling pressured by social media or NFTs, remember you’re always in control of your narrative. You know yourself best—not the thousands of overly opinionated people on the internet.

And for me, well, my story remains ever-changing, ever-growing, and rooted entirely in curiosity. So, I’m going to take my time and take it slowly with my art and NFTs. And if that means I’m ngmi…well…so be it.

You can find me gmi in other ways.