Sparks Fly, Dreams Don’t Clock Out

Dreams Don’t Clock Out

 I’ve always seen the world as divided into two kinds of people—the dreamers and the creators, and everyone else. Today at the shop was a damn war zone. I’m hunched over this giant milling machine, grinding parallels, and it’s spitting hot metal chips like a pissed-off dragon. I’m fighting back with a little hose blasting cold compressed air—my only defense against the onslaught. But one of those bastards slips through, slices my eyebrow, and I swear I hear the sizzle before I feel the sting. Smelled my own hair burning, too. Just another Tuesday, right? It’s hot, it’s loud, it’s a pain in the ass—but it’s my life right now.

Don’t get me wrong, this ain’t where I wanna be forever. Sweating buckets, dodging molten shrapnel, and smelling like steel and regret? Nah, that’s not the dream. But it’s the gig that keeps the lights on while I’m building something real—something mine. Every chip that stings, every sore muscle, it’s just fuel. Keeps me hungry for the life I’m chasing, the one where I’m not just surviving but calling the shots.

See, I’ve always been the guy who can’t switch it off. Clock out at the shop? Sure, but my head’s still running a hundred miles an hour. I’m thinking about the Gay Men’s Field Guide, about writing the next post, about turning my ideas into something that hits hard for guys like us—queer, tough, and not settling for scraps. That’s the fire that keeps me going when I’m bone-tired and the day’s kicked my ass. Dreams don’t punch out at five. They’re there when I’m scrubbing grease off my hands, when I’m staring at the ceiling at 2 a.m., when I’m dodging metal chips like a damn action hero.

Time is always on my mind.

Some dudes are cool with the routine—punch in, cash out, crack a cold one, repeat. And that’s fine for them. But me? I’m wired different. I want a life I built from the ground up, where the dirt under my nails is from my own fights, not someone else’s machine. This shop gig—it’s a means to an end. It’s what I do so I can write, create, and hustle for something bigger. Every day I show up, I’m betting on myself. Even when it’s rough, even when I’m bleeding from the eyebrow, I’m all in.

So yeah, today sucked. It was hot, it was messy, and I’m still picking metal slivers outta my skin. But I’m not bitching—not really. This is what it takes to get where I’m going. I’m grinding now so I can live the life I want later—one where I’m free to choose my battles, where my work means something. If you’re out there busting your ass for something more, you get it. You know what it’s like to take the hits and keep swinging.

Wanna back my fight? Grab a Dreams Don’t Clock Out tee from the store. It’s not just a shirt—it’s a nod to the grind we’re both on. Let’s keep building, brothers. No quitting, no clocking out.

It’s like they’re always there. Gnawing at me when I’m trying to sleep. Pulling at me when I’m already spent. Chasing me through every quiet moment, demanding more when I’ve got nothing left. They don’t care that I’ve already put in a full day of hard labor. They don’t care that I’m exhausted or that my body’s begging me to take a break. They’re always there, whispering: keep going. And the thing is, I do. Because I’ve always seen the world as divided into two kinds of people—the dreamers and the creators, and everyone else.

Some people can live inside the lines. They can punch the clock, collect the paycheck, and find their peace in the in-between. They sleep easy. They wait for the weekend. And they’re fine with that. But there’s another group—my group—the ones who can’t turn it off. The ones who lie awake at night thinking about what they need to build, the life they can’t let go of. The ones who don’t clock out when the day ends because their real work is just getting started. We’re the ones who show up when we’re tired. Who keep going when nobody’s watching. Who chase something bigger, even when it feels impossible.

Some days, the path is clear. I can see exactly where I’m headed. I know what I need to do, and I move through the work like it’s already mine. Other days, it’s like feeling around in the dark. I’m not sure if I’m making the right moves. I’m second-guessing every decision. I’m worn down and wondering if this is all just a waste of time. But even on those days, I show up. I keep moving. Because the dream hasn’t let go of me—and I’m not about to let go of it.

I’m still working in the shop. Still clocking in early, still grinding steel, still doing the work that pays the bills but doesn’t build the future I want. But when I clock out, that’s when my real work begins. I’m building something of my own. A life I choose. A future that doesn’t happen to me but is created by me. I’m fighting for a life where the struggle is mine to pick. Where the dirt under my nails comes from building something I believe in—not from doing work that wears me down but never lifts me up.

I don’t mind hard work. I’ve never been afraid to get my hands dirty. What I mind is when that work builds someone else’s dream instead of mine. That’s why I keep going. That’s why I’m still writing late at night, building the Gay Men’s Field Guide, and chasing something more. I’m not in this for easy. I’m in this for freedom—the freedom to choose what kind of work I put my life into. The freedom to wake up and know the hard days are the ones I picked because they mean something.

Dreams don’t clock out. They never have. And neither do I. This is my dream, and I just can't walk away.

If you’re still grinding for something better, if you’re still chasing a life you can call your own, you get it. You know what it’s like to be kept up at night by an idea you can’t shake. You know what it’s like to want something more and to fight for it—every day, whether the path is clear or pitch black.

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Support my mission—pick up a Dreams Don’t Clock Out tee from our store.

This is for us—the dreamers, the creators, the ones who refuse to settle. We’re the ones who keep building, no matter how long it takes. Because we know there’s no clocking out when you’re building the life you want. I couldn't have it any other way.