You Can’t Do It All Alone

August 17, 202Five

Ayo, let’s keep it real for a second.

I used to think the grind meant doing everything on my own. Like, if I didn’t handle every single detail myself, then somehow the win wouldn’t count. But the truth is, nobody gets far by themselves. Every artist, every brand, every movement you’ve ever seen had a team behind it. The idea of being “self-made” sounds good on a post, but real growth comes from learning how to work with other people.

I learned this the hard way with my clothing brand. I was the designer, the photographer, the stylist, the web guy, the packer, the shipper, the everything. And with music, I’ve felt that too. The stuff I’ve put out so far hasn’t always been my best work, and I know that if I had leaned on others, it could’ve been stronger. But that’s part of the journey. When you’re just starting out, you have to be solo. You have to learn the ropes. And mistakes? They’re not failures. They’re lessons. Every wrong turn teaches you what to do, and maybe more importantly, what not to do. That’s what sets you up for your next move.

At some point, though, you have to open up. You might have the vision, but somebody else has the skill that can take that vision further. You might write the bars, but another creative knows how to flip the sound so the world actually feels it. Energy bounces when people come together, and that’s how things grow.

So if you’re trying to level up as a creative, don’t hold yourself back thinking you gotta do everything alone. Build your circle. Learn from people who know things you don’t. Respect what they bring, and then bring your own sauce. That’s how you get to the next stage.

The goal isn’t to prove you can do it alone. The goal is to create something bigger than you. And the right team will take you places that ego and pride never could.

- O

The Thing About Passion

May 5, 202Five

Over the past few years, I thought I lost it.
The fire. The drive. That thing that used to wake me up at 2AM with ideas too loud to ignore.

Back in the day, I was always creating. Sketching in class, reciting lines from my favorite movies and shows over and over until I won the Oscar in my head, making beats in my room with YouTube tutorials running in the background, writing bars like I had something to prove — because I did. I had hunger. Passion. It wasn’t about being famous. It wasn’t even about being good all the time. It was about expression. Freedom. That feeling when something in you connects with something outside of you and suddenly — boom — the world makes sense.

But somewhere along the way… life got louder than my art. Life was like the noise-cancelling headphones shutting out any noise and chatter of passion speaking to me. Work. Rent. Family stuff. Social media. The constant pressure to be “doing well.” I kept telling myself I was just taking a break. But days turned into weeks. Weeks into months.

And then one day I looked up and realized: I hadn’t made anything just for me in a long, long time.

Losing your passion feels a lot like losing a friend. At first, you don’t notice the distance. You’re “just busy.” Then one day you scroll past someone else creating — someone dropping a verse, or painting, or dancing like they’ve got the universe on their side — and it hits you. That used to be you.

And yeah, sometimes jealousy creeps in. But mostly? It’s grief.

I grieved that version of myself who didn’t care what people thought. Who just did the thing. Who wasn’t so scared to suck. Who didn’t wait for the “perfect time” to start. But here’s what I’ve learned since: Passion doesn’t disappear. It waits. Quietly. Patiently. Sometimes painfully. But it waits.

I’ve started finding it again — not in some grand, cinematic moment, but in quiet shifts. Brainstorming at the gym. Freestyling in the shower. Talking film with a friend and feeling that same rush I used to get when I was a kid geeking out over new episodes. That excitement? That spark? The passion knocking again.

And more recently… I’ve come to know one of the most beautiful human beings I’ve ever met — a dancer, an artist, someone who moves like the music lives in their bones. Being around them has lit something in me. Their presence, their flow, the way they show up in their art without apology — it reminds me of who I’ve always been. And who I still want to become.

So I’m following that feeling. Not like some dramatic movie moment — but slowly. Awkwardly. Some days I create and it feels like magic. Other days it’s trash and I hate it. But even then, I feel *alive* again. Reconnected. To something at least, even though I don’t fully know what it is. 
That’s the thing about passion — it’s not a straight line. It bends. Twists. Doubles back. What lit me up at 18 doesn’t always hit the same at 28. And that’s not failure — that’s growth. The more I let go of who I thought I *should* be, the more I find who I actually *am*. And sometimes… it takes someone else’s light to help you see your own again.

I’m not “there” yet, whatever that means. But I’m here. Making again. Feeling again. And maybe that’s what passion really is — not some grand achievement, but a quiet choice you make every day to come back to yourself. So if you’re lost, just start small.
Write one line. Draw one sketch. Hum one melody. Follow the thing that pulls at you, even if it doesn’t make sense yet.

Because the thing about passion is…
It’s not about being fearless.
It’s about showing up scared — and doing it anyway.

— o

Fear, Hustle, and the Art of Letting Go

April 14, 202Five

"Many of us avoid facing fear at all costs, but sometimes we’re forced to."

I heard that line while watching the last season of Harlem on Prime, and it hit me deep. Also—sidebar—how dare they give us only six episodes? I mean, I’m grateful we even got a third season, but damn... just six? Amazon really could’ve ran the check up a little more and given the ladies a full ride. Still, I loved it. I love that show. I love anything based in or about New York, honestly. That city has my heart. Life will take me back eventually. One day.

ANYWAYSSS—Fear. That dreaded word. The thing that holds so many of us back from going after what we want, desire, or even need. But what we often overlook is how fear blocks us from our needs, too—not just our dreams. That part is personal for me.

Some would call me a workaholic. It’s in my DNA. I think it started in childhood—back when getting straight A’s was my addiction. You couldn’t tell me nothing in the classroom. Late nights, early mornings, grinding for extra credit, finishing projects early just because—I genuinely loved learning. That energy carried me through high school, two degrees, and now into adulthood... or I guess young adulthood? I’m 27, but something about this version of life don’t feel like full-on grown. It's giving transitional season.

When I graduated from Penn in 2019, I jumped straight into a master’s program. A break? Lol, never heard of her. I knew if I didn’t start then, going back would be a wrap. By 2020, I was back home in Cali, working full-time at a tech company, going to school full-time for my MBA, and still somehow not making enough to live. So I DoorDashed on the side. I liked clothes, and yeah, I was still Chief Keefing on that za back then, so let’s not act like budgeting was my strong suit. But let’s be real—either you work for a tech company that pays or one that doesn’t. Mine didn’t. Still, I loved it. It was new, the vibes were chill, and back in pre-COVID Philly with no car note or business ambition yet, I was coasting. It was groovy.

That’s where the cycle began.

I finished my MBA in 2021—but rest? Nah, that didn’t even cross my mind. That inner voice (you know, the one that sounds suspiciously like a hooded Kermit meme) whispered, “Do more.” So in 2022, I switched tech jobs. More money, sure—but it was a soul-sucking grind. Fourteen-hour days became the norm. I might as well have been hooked up to a caffeine IV. Still, I was hype. New job. New apartment in Koreatown. Life was looking up.

That’s also when I started making real moves on launching my clothing brand. But that meant needing even more money. So, second job it was. Yep—you read that right. Fourteen-hour workdays and I thought, “Why not add a little restaurant hustle to the mix?” Shoutout to Johnny’s on West Adams. Kept me busy, paid well, and was close to home.

2023? Rinse and repeat. Still grinding in tech. But now I was doing security at a bar a few nights a week—literally two minutes from my crib. The money was solid, and I had a brand to build. Then 2024 hit, and guess what? Yep. Same soul-draining tech job. This time, though, I was also clocking in at Dave’s Hot Chicken in North Hollywood. I’d walk across the street from WeWork and hop behind the counter. It was easy money, the vibes were fun, and I was doing what I needed to do to fund my dream.

But here’s the thing: I didn’t realize I was burning out. I was full of ambition, still am, but I was draining the life out of myself. For what? Some extra cash? Yeah, I was able to launch two full collections for my brand, but it cost me. It cost me time. It cost me energy. It cost me joy. The more I worked, the less I lived. The less I created. I turned into a shell of myself—running off fumes, stuck in survival mode, chasing something that never stopped moving.

And it took me a long-ass time to understand what was underneath all that grind. Fear. Not fear of failure, but fear of rest. Fear of stillness. Fear that if I stopped hustling—even for a second—I wouldn’t make it. I wouldn’t succeed. I wouldn’t be enough.

That’s a f*cking lie.

It took four long, exhausting years to learn that, but I did. I realized I was working myself into the ground trying to create a future, but in the process, I was robbing myself of the present. All the things I love—creating, dancing, designing, vibing to music, making art—I barely had time or energy for any of it. I was a zombie. A creative stuck on autopilot.

"Many of us avoid facing fear at all costs, but sometimes we’re forced to."

Recently, I had to face some hard truths. Life made me sit down. Like, really sit down. And I won't lie—rest still makes me uncomfortable. Stillness feels foreign. But I’ve been learning to breathe again. I’ve been finding rhythm in the quiet. Routine without chaos.

And you know what’s wild? In that rest, I’ve actually been doing more. Thinking clearer. Ideating better. Dreaming bolder. The creative spark is back, but this time, it’s not forced. It's flowing. Because here's the truth—creativity can’t be rushed. Quality can’t be rushed. Life’s not just about grinding for the next check. It’s about making space to live. To feel. To create. And I’m finally learning how to do just that.

So here’s your reminder, especially if you’re wired like me: rest isn’t weakness. Slowing down isn’t slacking. You don’t have to earn your right to breathe. You already deserve that. The grind will always be there—but so will your gifts. Feed them. Nurture them. And don’t let fear convince you that burning out is the only way forward.

🎧 What’s on Repeat While Writing This:

• “Survivor’s Guilt” – Joey Bada$$

• “Can I Live” – Jay-Z

• “Work” – Charlotte Day Wilson

• “No Role Modelz” – J. Cole

Keep Shooting Your Shots

March 27, 202Five

Life is one big game, and you’re either in it to win it or you’re sitting on the sidelines watching others take action. I grew up playing sports, and so far, 2025 feels like one of those long, exhausting yet hopefully rewarding games that’s going to take every ounce of energy out of you—and potentially go into overtime.

If you’ve ever played basketball, you know it’s divided into 2 halves, 4 quarters. First quarter of this year was off to a challenging start. I started a new job, got back into my gym and nutrition discipline, had to process some tough family news, and—let’s be honest—I’ve just been trying to keep myself centered through it all. But yo, the shoes have been laced all the way up, and ya boy has definitely been in the game, okay! Clock it! A lot of shots have been taken—some made, some missed—but that’s okay. No one makes 100% of the shots they take. But one thing’s for sure: you’ll miss 100% of the shots you don’t take, and that’s a fact.

Q1 is the beginning of the game. It’s when you find your rhythm, feel out the competition (in my case, all the shit life throws at you), and you play hard. But listen—don’t do too much! You can’t get winded too quickly and burn yourself out before you even get to the real action. That’s life, though. It’s a game. And no matter how hard we want to win, we’ve got to make sure we don’t burn out too soon, or else we’ll never get to the end of the game.

I keep having to remind myself of all the things I want to accomplish—excuse me, will accomplish. It’s okay to pace yourself. It’s okay to not try and do everything at once, especially when you’re doing it alone. You’ve got to find your pace, keep your breath steady, and keep shooting those shots in your own time. And sometimes, when it feels like everything is stacking up, you’ve just got to trust that the work you put in, no matter how small it seems day to day, will add up. Every shot, even the ones that miss, is still a shot taken.

Q1? Pretty much a wrap. Let's see how the rest of this game goes. Q2, I’m coming for you. Shots will be shot, and the shoes? They stay laced up! And as we head into the next quarter, just remember—you’re not in this alone, even when it feels like you are. Keep your head in the game, and keep shooting your shots.

In the Eye of the Storm

March 13, 202Five

There’s something uniquely humbling about life. It’s like walking through an endless wilderness, never truly sure of what lies ahead or which path to take. The direction is always shifting, like an unreliable compass that spins wildly, leaving you to rely on intuition and hope. Some days, it feels as though you have it all figured out—clear goals, a defined purpose, a sense of calm certainty. Those are the days when the horizon looks within reach, the clouds parting just enough for you to feel like you have a grip on things.

But then there are the other days, the ones where it all slips away. It’s like being Stevie Wonder—blind to everything around you. The road behind, the path ahead, even the ground beneath you seems unclear. The uncertainty that looms can feel overwhelming, as though you’re constantly walking in the fog, unsure of what’s next or if you’re even headed in the right direction. It can be unsettling, disorienting, and downright frustrating at times. The instability shakes your confidence, and you find yourself questioning whether you’ll ever find solid ground again.

But here’s the thing: maybe that’s where the beauty of life lies. In the unpredictability, in the discomfort of not knowing, in the wild dance between clarity and confusion. Because, in the end, we are all just navigating through a storm, trying to make sense of the chaos around us. It’s like standing in the eye of the storm—amidst the chaos, the wind howling, the rain pouring down, there is still a stillness at the center. It doesn’t mean you won’t get wet or be tossed around a bit, but it means that if you can weather the storm, you’ll come through it. And when the clouds finally clear, you might find that you’re stronger, more resilient, and wiser than you were before.

We spend so much time searching for answers, trying to map out the perfect course, but maybe the truth is, life isn’t about having it all figured out. It’s about learning how to exist in the uncertainty, accepting the messiness of it all, and knowing that not having all the answers is okay. The beauty is in the journey itself—the process of stumbling, learning, and growing, even when we don’t fully understand where we’re going.

So here’s to embracing the unknown. Here’s to not knowing what the fuck is going on. To navigating with a broken compass, to taking one step at a time, even when the way forward isn’t clear. To trusting that, in the end, we’ll find our way—however imperfectly—and we’ll be better for it. Life may be a wild, unpredictable ride, but it’s the ride that makes it worth living.

Shout out to the West Indies

Feb 17, 202Five

A Day of Music, Yoga, and Finding My Way Back (With a Side of Jamaican Food)

There are some days that feel like they have a rhythm of their own—a kind of perfect flow that gently pulls you through the hours. Today was one of those days, and it all started with the soothing sounds of Bob Marley's Exodus spinning on my record player. The warmth of vinyl, mixed with the timeless melodies of one of the greatest, set the tone for what turned out to be a beautiful, grounding experience.

After that, I pulled out my yoga mat, rolled it out in front of the TV, and before I knew it, I was lost in a sea of music videos. The sounds of Koffee, YG Marley, Skip Marley, and Protoje filled the space around me. There’s something so comforting about sitting on a yoga mat, stretching, and allowing music to be the anchor that keeps you connected to the present. It’s like grounding yourself in the rhythm of life. You can’t help but feel a deep sense of peace and calm, like you’re floating in the moment.

Lately, I’ve been feeling a little lost. Not just in my life, but also with my art. I know it’s okay to not have everything figured out, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to admit when you feel uncertain or stuck. That feeling of being adrift, unsure of the next step, is natural. And today, music was the bridge that helped me reconnect to myself. It reminded me that it’s okay to feel lost sometimes—it’s part of the process of figuring things out.

As the day went on, the music took me on a journey back to simpler times, to those quarantine days when all I did was yoga and listen to music, day in and day out. Now look, don’t look at me crazy. I know quarantine was shitty, but shit - I had a ball locked up in my 2 bedroom apt in Philly doing nothing but smoking, yoga-ing, walking miles around the city, connecting with music, and chilling with a few close friends.

Okay now listen, West Indies by Koffee was on REPEAT—10s to cousin Koffee from over yonder. The stunning visuals of Black people, the vibrant colors, and the joy that Koffee exuded, and of course the song, kept me captivated. I was almost ready to book a trip to Negril just to be closer to that energy. The song, the colors, the vibe—it all just pulled me in. And of course, that color-block two-piece Koffee was wearing? I need one in my life. Note to self: Listen to the "Gifted" album in its entirety.

Protoje’s Like Royalty was also on heavy rotation today. It’s one of those songs that feels like it belongs in your soul. I’m even starting to think I might need to start rocking a Rasta crown, but with a little west coast spin on it—why not? It’s all about merging influences and creating something that feels true to who you are, right?

And of course, Skip Marley had to make an appearance on the shuffle. "Close" is such a vibe.“TREEEE AM PON THE LATE NIGHT!!” blared through the speakers. It’s those little moments of joy, like singing along to that line with all the energy you’ve got, that make it all feel a little more okay.

Now, here's where things took a turn—I started craving Jamaican food. IYKYMFK!! The music had me feeling all the island vibes, and I could feel the plantain whispering in my ear like the Ying Yang Twins. You see, back during quarantine, I lived dangerously close to two Jamaican restaurants in Philly, just a short walk away from my place. If one was out of something, I’d simply hit up the other. It was a strategic operation that kept my cravings satisfied!

I found out about a new Jamaican spot that had just opened up two weeks ago, so naturally, I hopped in the car to see what they were about. The moment I stepped in, I knew this was a place I’d be returning to.

Let me tell you—the beef patties? Beef pattying! Flaky, savory, and perfectly spiced. The oxtails? Oh weee—fall-off-the-bone tender, with that rich, savory sauce that made every bite feel like a celebration. And the plantains? Oh so sweet and oh so MF delicioso. Honestly, I could’ve eaten just that and been set for the rest of the week. I’m definitely going back.

The best part? The owners were from both the Bahamas and Jamaica—two cultures blending together, and they were such great people. It's the kind of place where you feel like family the moment you walk in. I’ll be back for sure—no question.

It’s funny how a day like today can remind you of who you are and where you’re meant to be, even when the future feels unclear. Sometimes, all it takes is a record spinning, a yoga mat, some good music, and of course, some amazing food, to bring everything back into focus. So here’s to more days like this, where I let go of the pressure to know it all and simply enjoy the rhythm of life.

I think the best part about days like these is realizing that you don't have to have everything figured out. Just like the music, life moves with its own beat. Sometimes, you just have to sit back and listen—and maybe snack on some Jamaican food along the way.