A female superhero with long wavy brown hair sits cross-legged on the floor in front of a red cape, surrounded by books, art supplies, a painting easel, and creative tools, symbolizing multi-passionate creativity and growth.
Ash & Ember Book Reflections

Jack of All Trades, Master of… Actually, Everything (Eventually)

“When I grow up, I want to be a librarian.”

I said that for years — partly as a joke, partly because books were the only thing I’d ever actually finished. But what I didn’t realize back then was that librarians don’t just love books. They thrive on curiosity, connection, and exploration. And maybe that’s why I ended up here — because secretly, I’ve been a Scanner all along.

If you’ve never heard that term before, let me explain.

The Stories They Told Me (And I Believed)

For most of my life, I was told I “never finished anything.”

My family would roll their eyes when I excitedly started a new project or hobby.
My husband would get frustrated — often about the cost of supplies for things he thought I’d never complete.

And slowly, I started believing those stories.

That maybe I was flaky.
That maybe I didn’t have what it takes to “stick it out.”
That maybe I’d never amount to anything if I couldn’t just pick one thing and do it forever.

It’s exhausting living in someone else’s story about you.

The Truth I Didn’t Know

It wasn’t until I stumbled across Barbara Sher’s book, Refuse to Choose!, that I discovered the truth:

I’m not broken.
I’m not flaky.
I’m a Scanner.

Barbara Sher describes Scanners as people who are curious, multi-passionate, and wired to explore. We don’t want to master just one thing — we want to master everything.

And for the first time, I felt like my brain made sense.

Jack of All Trades? Maybe. But…

People say “Jack of all trades, master of none” like it’s an insult. But did you know that the full phrase is actually:

“Jack of all trades, master of none, but oftentimes better than master of one.”

That hits differently, doesn’t it?

I do want to master things. Just… not one thing. I want to master all the things. And maybe that means I’ll need to figure out how to become immortal — but in the meantime, I’m learning how to embrace my multi-passionate brain instead of fighting it.

Finding a Home in Librarianship

When I finally started studying to become a librarian, I realized something surprising: librarians are basically Scanners in disguise.

We connect dots across disciplines.
We learn just enough about everything to help others go deeper.
We gather knowledge, organize it, and make it accessible.

It turns out my “dream job” wasn’t random at all — it was the perfect fit for someone like me.

A woman with long wavy brown hair sits cross‑legged on the floor of a golden‑lit library, surrounded by books, sketchpads, and creative tools, as glowing threads of light weave between the shelves, symbolizing connection and discovery.
Somewhere between the bookshelves, I found a place where my curiosity finally felt at home.

Rewriting the Narrative

For years, I told myself the story other people wrote for me: that I was inconsistent, unserious, destined to fail.

But here’s what I know now: I am consistent — at being curious. I am serious — about learning everything I can.

And I am far from destined to fail.

If you’ve been told you’re scattered, flaky, or “too much,” maybe you’re not broken either. Maybe you’re just a Scanner.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s time to stop apologizing for wanting to live more than one life.

So here’s my challenge for you:
What’s the story you’ve been told about who you are?
And what happens if you decide to rewrite it?

Because me? I don’t just want to master one thing. I want to master everything. And maybe, just maybe, that’s my superpower.

If this resonates with you, you might also like my previous post about challenging the false stories we inherit about ourselves. Together, they’re two sides of the same journey: recognizing the story you’ve been handed… and rewriting it for yourself.

Feelings & Fire

A Birthday, A Beginning

I did it.
I celebrated my birthday.
My way.
With intention the whole day through.

Was it perfect?
No.
But it was mine and I chose it.

And when things didn’t go to plan.
I stopped.
I took a breath.
And I asked myself.
How do I want to go forward from here.
I chose on purpose.

This year my birthday didn’t just happen.
And it didn’t pass in a blink of disappointment.

Birthdays can be hard.
For some of us, they come tangled — with grief, hope, reflection, and a strange aching sense that time is both too slow and too fast.

This year I wanted to do my birthday differently. Not with pressure. Not with guilt. But with softness. With understanding. With kindness.

There’s often a strange kind of weight to celebrating yourself. Especially when the world teaches you to earn your milestones, or when old griefs sit close to the surface.

I didn’t want to pretend everything was easy. But I didn’t want to hide from the day either.

I wanted to choose me. I wanted to celebrate my way, for me and not for anyone else.

So, instead of a party, I built myself a small safe space — a blanket fort, a soft playlist, a simple reflection page.
I gave myself permission to exist exactly as I was: messy, hopeful, tired, alive.

I let small joys rule my day — setting out experiences that made my heart lighter.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t magic. But it mattered.

I realized celebration doesn’t always have to look like a fancy dinner, a party or cake.

Sometimes it looks like breathing.

Sometimes it looks like making room for yourself even when it feels awkward.

If you’re carrying complicated feelings about your birthday — or about any day you’re supposed to “celebrate” —you’re not alone.

There’s no wrong way to honor yourself.

Even a small, quiet beginning is still a beginning.

You’re still worth celebrating — exactly as you are.

One small corner of my celebration — a moment chosen just for me.

If you’re looking for a way to celebrate yourself — quietly, kindly — you can find my Birthday Reflection Pack here.