Hey friend,

Last night I was up way too late coding a ridiculous video game about my middle school band.

I found myself thinking about my two best friends growing up. Chad and Pup. The three of us started a band in eighth grade, which at the time felt like the most important thing in the world.

We practiced constantly. In basements. In bedrooms. Making ridiculous noises. Taking ourselves way too seriously. And eventually, we landed the ultimate gig: the 8th grade talent show.

I remember standing there thinking, this is it. We've arrived. There is nowhere to go but up from here.

Honestly, it kind of felt like we peaked.

That band didn't last forever. In fact, it ended in very dramatic fashion at a big festival in downtown Oxford called Pioneer Days. During our set, I messed up the beginning of our last song and wanted to start it over. Chad and Pup wanted to push through.

Instead of being mature about it, I started banging on the strings of my bass in protest. Chad took his guitar off, threw it into his case, and stormed off stage.

And just like that, the band was basically over as we headed into ninth grade.

Fast forward 30 plus years and those guys are still two of my closest friends. We laugh about those moments now. Hard. The drama. The ego. The intensity of something that mattered so much at the time.

I'm 48 now. Old enough to laugh at throwing my bass tantrum. Still young enough to throw new ones.

Here's where it gets even more random.

As I was thinking about those guys, I had this idea for a video game. Totally out of left field. But with vibe coding and my childhood love for programming, I was suddenly wide awake way too late, building a little role-playing game just for fun.

I even sent it to Chad and Pup this morning, complete with custom graphics of the three of us holding our instruments and some early-90s-style music that sounds exactly like it belongs in a game from our childhood.

It was ridiculous. And honestly? It was pure joy.

Growing up, my dream wasn't actually video. It was making computer games. My freshman year at Oakland University, I started down the computer engineering path. Then I attended two chemistry classes and quickly realized my brain does not work like that.

So I pivoted.

Staying up late last night building something just because I wanted to brought all of that rushing back. It reminded me how much I love making stuff. Creating. Exploring ideas without worrying about whether they're productive, profitable, or polished.

This is why I fell in love with video in the first place. I got to make stuff.

But when making stuff becomes your job, it's easy to forget that. Easy to treat it like a task instead of a passion. Easy to lose the playful curiosity that got you here.

I don't want to forget that.

Maybe this is just a reminder for me. Or maybe you need it too.

You don't have to peak in eighth grade. You don't have to have it all figured out. And you're allowed to make things just because it's fun.

Cheering you on,

Ryan

P.S. If your work feels like a checklist, maybe you just need to make something useless for once.