Tracks That Built Me - Don't Stop Me Now

Adrenaline. There’s nothing quite like it. I love it. I live for it.

They say it can help you lift a car. I don’t know about that. But it does give you a superhuman effect for sure. That rush—that moment when your heart pounds, your stomach flips, and your brain is screaming, What are we doing?—I thrive off of that feeling.

And I always have.

One of my best friends and I grew up chasing that high together. We played sports side by side for years, celebrated birthdays together on the ball field, and, as self-proclaimed adrenaline junkies, made a pact when we were 10: on our 18th birthday, we would go skydiving.

Then COVID hit. Life paused. For a year, I barely saw anyone, barely did anything that made my heart race in that good way. Until, out of nowhere, I got a text:

"Do you have plans this weekend?"

"No."

"Do you want to go to the beach and skydive?"

"Uh, yes."

And that was it. We went. We skydived. I asked my tandem partner if we could do a flip on the way down. He laughed and said, not on your first jump. Fair enough.

It was one of the coolest things I have ever done and will ever do. I was literally flying, free-falling 10,000 feet above the ground, just me, the sky, and the wind roaring in my ears. At one point, I swear a bird flew past me and gave me a look.

But what stuck with me the most wasn’t the free fall itself—it was the feeling before and after.

Before, there was a pit in my stomach. Some might call it fear. Maybe it was. But fear isn’t always bad. Sometimes, it’s just proof that you have something to lose. That you care. People told me I was insane. I’d never skydive. What if something happens? But the way I see it—if that’s how I go, then that’s how I go. You can’t live a life of fear of what might happen.?

And after? After was the adrenaline. The surge of I could jump 10 more times. The realization that I could do anything. The sheer, unstoppable energy pulsing through me like electricity.

That feeling—the rush, the energy, the sheer thrill of being alive—is exactly why Queen’s music speaks to me.

There’s no band that embodies that feeling more. Don’t Stop Me Now is a song for risk-takers, dream-chasers, and people who refuse to slow down. Freddie Mercury didn’t just exist—he lived at full speed, embracing every wild, messy, beautiful moment. His voice, his presence, the way he commanded a song—it was fearless.

And that’s why Queen shaped me, not just as a person but as a creative. Their music taught me that boldness isn’t optional—it’s necessary. That there’s magic in pushing limits, in letting yourself be a little reckless, a little outrageous, a little... alive.

I saw it firsthand in my first creative class. We were analyzing a Halo Top ice cream commercial—this weird, unsettling robot ad that made everyone uncomfortable. While my classmates recoiled, something clicked. Isn't that the point? Ten years later, we will all still remember that commercial. It worked because it was bold, because it didn't play it safe. Taking that spark, I built an entire campaign that pushed the concept further, connecting those eerie robots to modern food delivery robots. It was strange. It was risky. It was exactly what it needed to be.

It reminded me that in advertising, playing it safe often means being forgotten. The biggest risks can lead to the biggest rewards. Just like skydiving, sometimes you’ve got to leap without knowing exactly how it’s going to play out, but you trust that the thrill of the unknown will get you where you need to go.

I write the way I jump out of planes—without overthinking, without hesitating, without fearing the fall, because I trust the landing. Whether it’s an idea, a sentence, or a literal leap from 10,000 feet, I want to go full throttle. "Cause I'm havin' a good time."

So yeah—Don't Stop Me Now is my anthem. Because I get it. That feeling, that rush, that pure alive moment where nothing can hold you back? That's what I live for. That's how I want to write. That's how I want to create. Whether I'm free-falling through clouds or pushing creative boundaries, I chase that same high—that moment when your heart pounds, your stomach flips, and your brain screams, What are we doing?

And just like Freddie Mercury singing about being a shooting star leaping through the sky, I don't plan on stopping anytime soon. Because sometimes, the scariest jumps lead to the most spectacular views.