the downsides of locking in

soft-launching my move to new york

I’ve learned that nothing humbles me quite like a 30-degree morning in April.

The tulips and magnolias outside insist it's spring, but the wind chills hit like betrayal—the only way to survive the juxtaposition is through hands buried in pockets, eyes squinted, shoulders hunched, and body clenched tight as to allow muscle to hug bone.

In my head is only one thought: if I move my legs quickly, the warmth of the subway tunnels will soon catch me like a promise.

I’m moving to New York in June.

And for the first time in a while, my body feels at peace.

Over the past two months, between manufacturing this move and building my clothing brand, I’ve exercised more free will than I ever have before. I’m finally making decisions for myself, laying the groundwork for a future I feel more attuned with, knowing that at this stage in life, no failure has to be final.

The type of life I want to live—one of constant experimentation and iteration—requires one essential skill: self-belief. Trust that I’ll make the right decisions. And if things don’t work out, belief that I will take accountability and use whatever skills, creativity, and connections I have to find another way through.

The move and the brand are my playgrounds for building that trust.

There are still some complexities around the New York move that make me uneasy—mostly tied to my full-time job. I won’t get into it here, but it’s the last puzzle piece still floating in the abyss.

What matters is this:

1. I’m choosing New York because I want to be there.

2. I’m choosing to pour my waking hours into Flores de Oro with no guarantee of success.

3. Both decisions feel right to me.

With my New York lease now signed, I’ve already begun to feel nostalgic about my time in DC.

DC will be forever remembered as the place where I grew into myself, and because of that, the city will always hold a special place in my heart.

But overall, I had a pretty bad time here. Now that I have one foot out the door, I’ve been able to reflect on things a bit more objectively, and the diagnoses has revealed itself:

My toxic initial work experience reinforced somewhat true biases about people from DC, and in response, I redirected my frustrations inward through self-development.

When I first learned I’d be moving to DC for work, I was excited. I heard stories about a vibrant city full of young, ambitious people across diverse industries—politics, finance, consulting, tech. I arrived in my apartment two weeks before I started work and spent my days wandering museums, memorials, and monuments, all within walking distance from where I lived. I remember feeling so much awe and inspiration.

Then work crushed me.

Part of the reason was that I wasn’t ready for the corporate world. I have many hypotheses as to why. But the real issue was that I was randomly matched onto a toxic team. I was overworked and gaslit for most of my first year at work, and as someone who tries to take full accountability for his circumstances and actions, I felt really burnt out and confused.

Despite my best intentions not to let work spill into my personal life, it bled everywhere, giving a different meaning to “denial is a river” (shoutout Doechii). I was just so shocked at my team culture that I began to lump anyone who cared about their corporate job into the same bucket: highly ambitious, extremely one-dimensional, and to be avoided at all costs for my mental wellbeing. I simply could not handle hearing about anyone loving their job when I felt so deeply hurt by mine.

The problem: DC is a very career-driven city. Being in the nation’s capital, the stakes feel slightly higher, almost as if everyone is doing important work for some arm of the government, cutting-edge research at a hospital, or helping the economy flow at a bank.

As I met new people, I had a lot of trouble getting over how every single conversation was about work. And because of all this, unfortunately, I ceased to have the desire to socialize.

some recent sketches for flores de oro

In response, I redirected all of my energy inwards. For the past year, my weekday routine has been consistent.

Wake up at 6. Read and journal until 7. Work on my projects until 8. Commute into work, come back around 6. Workout until 7. Eat dinner and shower until 8. Work on my projects until 9. Wind down and go to bed by 11.

I built a life around solitude and got addicted to the inward peace and growth that came from it.

But it’s this situation, this frustration toward work and inherent boredom that comes from no social life, that led me to spending random Friday nights deep into essay writing, business development, or other creative projects.

I built an entire inner world that didn’t exist before. Muscles I didn’t have: the ability to transmute experience into essays, sketches, stories, fragments of a point-in-time lived experience that I could immortalize for myself and use to connect with others.

It does make me a little sad to admit that I didn’t give DC a fair chance. I let my bitterness about work filter the way I saw the city and its people.

I’m sorry DC, for not giving you my all.

But this is not a concession. I know it’s springtime and the flowers are blooming and the 30 degree April mornings are a thing of the past. Maybe the happy ending would be that I’ll spend this last month soaking it all in, embracing a fresh perspective.

In reality, I’m bunkering down even harder.

Balancing everything with a full-time job has been brutal. From the outside, it might look like I’m floating above water—but underneath, there are weights tied to my waist, fourteen needles of pure adrenaline stabbed into my quads, and my lower body is shaking like a wet dog, just trying to keep me from drowning.

But the discomfort feels right. It’s unsustainable, but it feels alive and necessary right now.

I’m heading into New York with the intention of exiting hermit mode.

But before I can do that, there’s still work to finish.

I need to get faster at filming and editing videos and podcasts.

I need to finalize the first designs for Flores de Oro.

I need to build a stronger foundation.

In New York, I plan to allow for greater distractions and more connection.

But until then, I’m staying locked in—focused on building the momentum that will carry me into this next chapter.

more sketches

If you’ve made it this far, you’re a real one.

Here’s a raw audio journal entry (minus a few incriminating personal bits) from February 2024, three days after I turned 23.

I’m walking around the Lincoln Memorial late at night, in the dead of winter, which is why I sound so cold and out of breath.

Keep your dreams alive. I’m dreaming with you.