Peering Up Through a Tree

There’s something in me I’m not facing. I bury it in work, drinks, and racy conversation. And maybe that’s what’s bleeding into my writing lately—so much centered around women and relationships. I wonder if I’m missing something more. Maybe it’s time to shift gears, introduce more of the technical side of myself into my blog—blend that with the psychology I keep circling around. Kind of a “Gamish” vibe, Neil Strauss-esque, but hopefully with more soul. Because honestly, that path feels like it leads to emptiness.

Since I moved away, I’ve started to notice the cracks in life—those fractures in others that end up mirroring your own. We all put on a flawless front, but the more I talk to people, the more I realize how much pain is being patched over. For some, it’s the club, the party scene; for others, it’s pouring everything into work. And honestly, I don’t know which is better. You can’t split test life. You can only understand it from where you’re standing. Sometimes I envy the oblivious—those who just live, unburdened by overthinking. The curse of intelligence is that it makes you feel everything.

It’s all yin and yang. Lately, I’ve been deep-diving into Chinese history—I am watching a two-and-a-half-hour video that brought me back to my time in China. I lived there for three years, and we had to take a mandatory Chinese history class in 9th grade. I hated that class—not because of the teacher (she was stern, abrasive even), but because I wasn’t ready to process what it was asking of me. Funny how time gives you perspective. That teacher actually cared. So many of them did. They weren’t just teaching—they were shaping. Looking back, I think my move to China was my first real leap of faith. I was 14 or 15. I just didn’t have the emotional vocabulary to understand it then. But something shifted in me back then. That was the beginning of it all.

And now, years later, another shift is happening. Ever since I moved to Tampa, I have been hungry. Hungry for more—more ambition. I am working on creating my own custom blog. I deployed a frontend in minutes the other day. Vercel is wild—open-source, customizable, and so fast. It’s changing the game. It’s like the Remix rep said—when deployment is that fast, code becomes art. You’re no longer waiting around to bring something to life. You can move with inspiration. I’m starting to see how technology and creativity can blend seamlessly.

Sam Altman once said, “There will be billion-dollar companies owned by one person.” I believe it. We’re entering an age where you can spin up a working MVP in hours, solo. With the rise of automated tools, I'm finding that I don't have to wait to become a frontend dev. I can learn on the go, build on the go. It's strange, joining my company to be a software engineer, thinking that would be my passion. I spent a year diving into backend work—Kotlin, PostgreSQL, Flyway, Openshift. That backend foundation made me obsessed with automation, delivery, systems thinking. Now I’m exploring things like MDX, where markdown and JavaScript collide to make readable, dynamic frontends. There’s beauty in that too—creating something from nothing. That was the dream all along.

Technology is becoming more than a career path. It’s starting to feel like the medium for my self-expression. And yet, as much as I build in the digital world, I’ve also been building internally. I had a deep conversation with a girl the other night, one of those rare ones that crack you open. She helped me recognize parts of my psychological makeup—especially around forgiveness. I’m learning how to forgive, not forget. And most of all, how to see people as human.

That’s especially true with family. If you were lucky enough to grow up in a two-parent household, you probably know the feeling—thinking your parents are perfect. Untouchable. But as I got older, I started to see the cracks in them too. It made me angry at first. Maybe I still carry some of that resentment. But I’m working through it. The things people admire about me—intelligence, work ethic, charisma—I got those from them. They raised me in a world of constant movement: cleaning, sports, school. That rhythm is part of who I am now. It’s become a kind of north star, a “key request” for my life. Once I accepted that, other things began to click. I realized that giving grace to them is a way of giving it to myself. It’s a work in progress, but maybe that’s my MVP right now.

Lately, I’ve had My Eyes by Travis Scott on repeat. There’s this one line that won’t leave me:

“The things I created became the most weighted

I gotta find balance and keep me inspired.”

It resonates deeply. Sitting at Grassroots, just thinking, I feel like I’m finally beginning to understand that I’m on the right path. Sure, I get self-conscious. But maybe that’s part of the balance too. There’s also this evolution in how I see my parents now. As a kid, I felt closest to my mom—but over time, I started to resent how much she pushed me. It built this quiet defiance in me. My dad, meanwhile, always felt distant. But now I see more of myself in him. He helped me move to Florida, and on those road trips, I got to know the real him. He’s just a big softy who loves to joke and have fun. He’s rooting for me.

Maybe that’s what this all is—piecing together the fragments of who I’ve been, who I am, and who I’m becoming. Balancing the code of my soul.