Thoughts in August

This week I’m in Seattle. I’m crashing with a friend in his three-story two-bedroom townhome in Wallingford. He’s a good friend of mine: I’ve known Iden for years since we met our first year at ASU, then we lived together for a number of years before the pandemic. He and I studied computer science together and we both went our separate ways—he’s committed a bit further to the software engineering lifestyle, working for big tech and buying a house. I admire his work ethic, and I can’t pretend that I’m not jealous of what he’s built here in Seattle; he has a solid friend group, seems to be in a good flow with his job, and he seems content. He’s been making a solid attempt at convincing me to move here.

Still, I’m not convinced.

Something about Seattle doesn’t fit into my vision. The PNW has been sitting in the back of my mind as a long-term play; I know that climate change will make Phoenix unlivable, along with a good chunk of the Southwest, but I’m reluctant to check into this place just yet. The water access is tempting—I do want to learn how to sail and hop around alpine lakes, sure. If I was to commit to the patterns that I’ve been following for a while, I could see myself enjoying life here. I could simply do my corporate job and go on Hinge dates and take care of my plants and try to sell art.

Sure, the weather here is nice in the summer, and it might not be so bad the rest of the year. Something about it, however, feels like it might be San Francisco Round II. I can already tell that many of the nuanced problems with SF might not be present here (more on that in another blog post) but it feels a little too similar to what felt like a long-form distraction from the elephant in the room: ignoring my gut and not following the true vision of my life.

I listened to Arnold Schwarzenneger’s book recently. He has a lot to say about vision: whether big or small, vague or specific, we need to start with a vision and relentlessly pursue it.

No matter what you do, you first have to have a vision... to see your goal, to believe in it, have faith in it and chase it. And then it's fun to chase it. If you don't have a goal or a vision, then you have nothing.

- Arnold Schwarzenegger

Some aspects of my vision are concrete, and others are incredibly blurry, requiring a level of gut feeling.

I’ve known for a long time that I don’t want to work a corporate job— I don’t want my inputs to have poor correlation to my outputs. I want to be my own boss: I’ve known this since I read Antifragile by Nassim Nicholas Taleb back in college. I wanted to reduce my exposure to downside and expose myself to those fat tails, those high-ceiling, unlimited-upside options.

There is no intermediate state between ice and water but there is one between life and death: employment.

- Nassim Nicholas Taleb

My first position out of college was at American Express, a miserable situation which left me feeling deflated but defiant; I quit within three months after a confusing state of whiplash into the working world, vowing to listen to myself and never to work another job that was as simple as trading my time for cash.

At this point, I did not have a clear vision for myself, but I did have an anti-goal, which was better than nothing. Thus, I worked for a job which grew my skills so that I might someday become my own boss. I soaked up stories about my coworkers doing consulting. Eventually I explored a few other things for myself, picking up painting and fitness and writing. I did a lot of these hobbies after quitting that job while exploring Ecuador and Spain.

Still, something about the traveling left me unfulfilled. It was an invaluable time in my life, but I felt empty for not taking the long-term play—I wanted to build something permanent and sustainable. I dabbled in the idea of doing some consulting, but I sort of half-assed it, which is where vision comes back in.

Software engineering simply wasn’t in my vision. It’s not something I’d trade time or money to do, but I continued to do it. I sat in cafes in Spain looking at contract roles and half-heartedly applying, knowing that it wasn’t true to myself and what I wanted to do. I had the angst that I wanted to build something, but those things took space and time—I was on a tourist visa so I didn’t feel that I could put down any substantial roots.

After Spain, I thought to myself, “okay, let’s get an apartment and start pursuing those hobbies and goals. How do I get an apartment? I need an income…” and from there I found myself once again employed.

“Are you happy with your job?” one of my early San Francisco friends asked me over a coffee in Hayes Valley. I told her that I was—but I’m confident now that I was lying because I was ignoring the fact that it did not align with my vision for my life. Sure, I was doing something novel; being in the new city felt a bit like traveling, which is a hearty distraction if you’re dissatisfied with what you do with your day-to-day. Fundamentally I was not keen on being employed—my inputs and hard work did not correlate directly with my outputs, compensation, and fulfillment.

I ignored this again due to my lack of articulating a vision for myself— I thought that what I needed was again a change of pace, so I sought a different software job. I became fully remote (well, almost) and I thought that would solve something. Out of the frying pan and into the fire: the job that I took was more of a corporate role than initially observed. Fruitless meetings, busy work, appearances. Lack of learning and progress, stagnation.

This limbo time in San Francisco did give me something: I crafted a more articulate vision of what I wanted to do. I learned that I should capitalize on my ability to juggle many interests, aiming to paint and sell the art of others and lean into my fitness experience. I figure I should do what I love: making and selling art and developing my body. I didn’t even consider that dealing or curating art would be fulfilling until I tinkered around the periphery of the art world.

Three of your most important decisions you’ll make in life are — Where you live, who you’re with, and what you’re doing.

- Naval Ravikant

I’m confident about what I want to do, but there were still details up in the air about this vision: where to be, where to be? I left San Francisco in a hurry because I realized definitively that it was not where I wanted to establish this new career. Thus began my road trip for the sake of trying to understand where I might begin to capitalize on this developing vision.

I stopped in Foresthill, then Oceanside/Carlsbad, then Santa Monica. I took a week or so in Bend, Oregon. Now I’m in Seattle and I’m realizing that I’m not going to miraculously stumble upon somewhere that feels like “it.” No insurmountable sensation of belonging will strike me in a snap; I’m doubtful I’ll declare that “I’m here.”

You can’t visualize something you haven’t done. I wonder if this translates that I can’t amend my vision to be in a place that I haven’t visited—I think the act of exploring new places might build my knowledge of what I want, but so far, I feel that I have all of the tools to craft myself a vision that is comprehensive and might bring success. Familiarity of a place and its culture might accelerate this success.

As it stands, I’m leaning on moving back to Phoenix because I have a solid support structure there and I know that the heat energizes me. I naturally wake up early there, ready for the day. I’m not set on it, but my gut tells me that it’s “in the vision.”

Still, I’m conflicted about another lingering aspect of the vision of my life: I deeply want to live somewhere to practice a language with fuller immersion. I had some element of this in Ecuador and Spain, but I didn’t lean into it nearly enough. I’m craving a second attempt, but I don’t yet see how I might best do so while simultaneously pushing towards my vision of a career in art and fitness and sales.

I looked into options regarding visas—I consider moving to Mexico City, which I already know that I enjoy. I might be able to do so, but it also could be overwhelming to try to assimilate to a new culture and learn a language and navigate being a foreigner while also trying to “make it.”

After talking with a friend about it, I could see the advantage of having a home base in Phoenix, snowbirding— I could escape the heat for the summer season to a Spanish-speaking country and do a lot of my artistic production there after doing a gut-check of whether or not the artistic career is viable.

If it comes down to it, I’m prioritizing figuring out “what you do” over “where you live” as of now: all of the options already explored have a viable market for art and fitness.