Spent last night building a perfectly functional web scraper to...

Plot twist: It's completely dead. Doesn't exist anymore except as a ghost on the @waybackmachine.
Felt pretty clever. Then spent 20 minutes troubleshooting before realizing I'd been editing the wrong .py file the whole time.
The Wayback Machine had captured exactly 2 pages out of what was once a massive gallery site. And the 48 reels saved? Not great.
Dev: "This will take 5 minutes"
Reality: 2 hours later, learned Python & beautifulsoup4
Result: Successfully scraped nothing
10/10 would procrastinate again.
But what really struck me was his reflection on breaking free from defining himself only through his work.

For those who have been following me for a while, you probably know that my name and presence on social media—and in the community in general—have been mostly tied to my design work. Over the years, I’ve focused on building a “professional” identity as a designer and creative.
I’ve spent many years trying to become a great designer, aiming my focus ONLY on posting and talking about my work. The vision was to stay focused on a specific niche, attract collaborations, and grow both my inner and wider circle of friends and colleagues. Most of my life, values, and drive were based around an inner persona I have somehow created. We can call it “Ales, the perfect designer who never makes mistakes and always pushes harder than others.
But here’s the truth: the past two years have been tough. I’ve realized that a huge part of my self-esteem and identity has been tied to “being a designer.” I thought it was my “main contribution to the world,” the one thing of value I could offer. I believed people liked and followed me solely because of my work, and I spent an incredible amount of time and energy trying to improve because I thought it was the only way to succeed in life.
This mindset kept me motivated and laser-focused on chasing the next goal. I achieved so many of my career dreams, worked with some of the most inspiring people I know, and pushed through every up and down without ever wanting to give up. I can confidently say: I love what I do. I love the life I’ve built through hard work, and I want to keep creating for as long as I can. I am—and always will be—a creative and a builder.
But over the past two years, it’s felt like I’ve built a cage for myself. A construct that I no longer feel comfortable in because of the constant pressure to “always deliver and show it.” I didn’t want to admit it, but I was living in a bubble of work-obsession, workaholism, and the belief that “the world doesn’t care about me if I’m not producing.
By the time I realized it had gone too far, it was already impacting my well-being, my relationships, and—most importantly—my identity and behavior. There were moments when I didn’t even recognize myself, and it didn’t feel right.
I felt like the world didn’t truly know me—only the curated version of me, the one defined by a collection of polished projects and “pretty pictures.” A narrative I had carefully crafted because I thought it was what people expected of me. If I don’t deliver, I lose everything and everyone. That’s something that was constantly going through my head as I struggled with identifying my self-worth.
I convinced myself I had to stick to sharing only my professional side, because that’s what made sense. That’s how I should communicate.
But there’s another part of me—a much bigger part—that very few people know.
It’s a part of me I’ve been afraid to share because it feels vulnerable. It makes me feel seen, judged, and exposed—triggers that have, in the past, made me self-censor some of my happiest moments that were, surprise, surprise, not work-related.
But not anymore.
What if I told you there’s a focused, hardworking guy who loves creating all the cool things you’ve seen—but also someone who laughs at silly jokes, makes mistakes every day, and isn’t afraid to be goofy? Someone who loves to experience life, travel, and explore. Someone who, while he may seem reserved and “cold” at times, genuinely loves connecting, supporting others, and diving into interesting hobbies.
I think you’d like him. And if you’re interested, I’d like to introduce you to him.
This year, I want to show you this side of myself. Not because of a New Year’s resolution, but because I’ve finally reached a point where I’m ready to get this off my chest.
I want to be more myself both in real life and online. It just so happens to coincide with the first days of 2025.
I completely understand if this new direction isn’t something you’re interested in following. There are so many amazing people, teams, and accounts sharing design work exclusively—I’d be happy to recommend some to you.
This doesn’t mean I’ve been faking anything until now. I’ve genuinely enjoyed my time online. I’ll still share bits and pieces of my work, but I want to mix it with other things, too.
I’m not looking for more attention. If my reach grows, that’s great. But my focus is elsewhere now—on simply being myself.
A.
(I have originally posted this message to my IG, but I thought it’s worth sharing here as well for everyone else to see.)
Maybe the universe was telling me something about why I was procrastinating on that showreel in the first place.
(He also shares the Showreelz story here: instagram.com/stories/highli…)
And while I still haven't started that showreel, I learned some Python, discovered a meaningful story, and enjoyed the process.
Come find some inspiration (and share yours):

Designers, creative devs, and studios —
what was your best project of the year?
Drop it below. Let’s go. 👇🔥
