#001 LETTING THE UNCERTAINTY STAY UNCERTAIN

I quit my job at the end of February. No safety net.

It wasn't impulsive. It also wasn't fully thought through. Somewhere in between.

I was a software engineer before this. Every day, building products and features I didn't care about.

It took over a year of going back and forth — dramatic to call it a war with myself, but not by much -  before I couldn't sit in that fog anymore. Part of it was knowing the job was costing me time no paycheck could buy back. Part of it was something closer to shame: showing up every day, pretending to create value I didn't believe in. It felt dishonest.

Before I left, I tried everything to find the thing I could stay curious about. Oil painting. Ashtanga. Ceramics. Each one gave me a little air — a few hours outside of work where I felt something. But it wasn't enough.

I finally admitted to myself that I am, at my core, someone who loves freedom. Last year, I took a metalsmithing class at SVA, and I fell head over heels for it. When you witness something created with your own two hands, that sense of pride is completely unmatched. Someone once asked me: “If money were absolutely no object, what kind of life would you live?” My answer back then was, maybe doing something creative, though I wasn’t sure exactly what. Now, I think I’ve found the answer.

Showing what you’ve created in front of anyone other than yourself is actually a deeply vulnerable, almost embarrassing thing. I’m so used to being the critic, the one judging others. So this sudden role reversal—realizing I’m the one about to be judged—honestly gives me the chills. But judging others is just too easy. You only need to feel like you have a bit of taste, and that's it.

There's a line from Jony Ive I keep coming back to — something like: once you stop making things, your talent stops mattering. All you're left with is taste. And taste, unchecked, narrows you — makes you dismiss people, close off. So: make things.

So here I am. Hands in it. Making things.