I used to make up stories about how I became disabled. A go-kart crash, a bear fight, a piano fell from the sky. It was all fun and games and meant for lightheartedness. But eventually, I realized that it was dishonest—to others and myself. So today, it’s time to set the record straight.
I was born with cerebral palsy and almost died twice as a kid. First at birth and again at seven months when I caught meningitis. Most of my childhood memories are about hospitals, doctors, and living on a farm in Ohio. I disliked all three.
As a depressed teen, the only things that gave me comfort were music and the internet. Outside of school, most of my time was spent alone because I lived in the middle of nowhere. I grew up on a diet of Limp Bizkit and Korn and frequented an AOL chat room called Hot Tub. High school was about guitar and building internet projects with pirated versions of Dreamweaver and Photoshop.
A week after graduation, the farm fell into foreclosure. I went to college for a semester but dropped out to tour as a musician. After that, I had nowhere to go and flew to Los Angeles to start anew.
In January 2006, I landed at LAX and slept there for a month. I kept the airline tags on my bags and alternated terminals every night. I pretended that I had arrived on the redeye and that my ride didn’t show up. When TSA caught on, I moved to the Greyhound station downtown. Luckily, I found a job as a telemarketer and rented out a music rehearsal studio with my first paycheck. You weren’t supposed to live there, but I pulled it off.
The following year, I got hired at a legal tech company and launched a music website and interview series called Ryan’s Rock Show. Going from minimum wage to an annual salary changed my life. It gave me financial stability and the freedom to focus on creative projects. I got a car, moved into a house, and spent the next decade interviewing many of the bands I admired growing up. I also turned my house into a music venue and invited the bands I met to play there.
Then, in 2016, I quit everything—the job, the website, and the venue—to become self-employed. I tinkered with several projects that flopped. But by 2018, an e-commerce business I bootstrapped gained traction. It generated more than $75,000 in monthly revenue, and for the first time, it felt like everything was coming together. Then it collapsed, and I went bankrupt.
Since then, I’ve rebuilt my career one project at a time. I’ve worked with businesses ranging from startups to enterprise brands, sold an e-commerce business I built from scratch, and spent years helping Shopify merchants grow their businesses. Over time, my focus shifted toward building software. Today, I’m developing PinkyBrain, an AI-powered Shopify app, while continuing to write about entrepreneurship, technology, and creativity.
The writing you’ll find here is a collection of essays, observations, and ideas shaped by years of trial and error. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that building anything—a business, a career, or a life—is an ongoing process of experimentation, adaptation, and iteration. As my telemarketing manager, Mike, used to say, “Take the best and leave the rest.”
