When the plan stopped feeling like mine
Becoming a lawyer had been the plan for as long as I could remember. Working as a corporate and real estate paralegal at a prestigious firm made that future feel close enough to touch. I enjoyed the work, and from the outside, everything seemed to be going according to plan.
But the closer I got, the less certain I became that I wanted the life surrounding the work. Admitting that was difficult. I had spent most of my life preparing for one future, and I did not have another one waiting.
I went through one of the darkest periods of my life. Dance did not fix everything, but returning to it gave me somewhere to go, people to be around, and a way to begin recognizing myself again.
Around the same time, a close friend and fellow paralegal encouraged me to try programming. He was taking computer science classes at Columbia, so I followed him into the same courses. He was a much more natural student—he is an electrical engineer now—but coding gave me something I badly needed: a future I had not already planned.
Staying with difficult things
I do not have a natural-talent story. Most things I love began with me being bad at them.
At Fordham Prep, I was probably the worst swimmer on an unusually strong team—the worst of the best. I was happy just to be there. At Boston College, I eventually quit swimming and stumbled into dance. The Synergy team had about five men and twenty women, which probably helped my audition. I was so unprepared that I was removed from a duet. I stayed because I loved it.
Programming followed the same pattern. By my fourth Columbia class, I was far over my skis. I made a bad decision with code I did not understand and failed the course. It was embarrassing, but it taught me something I still carry into my work: getting something to run is not the same as understanding it.
That lesson has stayed with me through nearly a decade in technology. When I encounter an unfamiliar system, I try to be honest about what I do not know, learn until I can explain it, and leave behind something that makes the next attempt easier. At work, that has taken the form of reusable templates, new integrations, internal tools, and helping clients and teammates make sense of complicated technical problems.
The details have changed, but the habit has not. I get curious, struggle for a while, and keep going.
Making my own shape
I still hesitate to call myself a dancer, even though I once performed professionally on the BTS Love Yourself world tour and strangers now approach me after seeing me dance. At some point, I probably have to stop assuming that all my friends are just being nice.
My wife, Christine Flores, is a professional dancer who continues to encourage me to train and perform. I have also been shaped by Tarikh Campbell, Gustavo Polanco, Esosa Oviasu, Kenichi Kasamatsu, Bo Park, Eric Delgado, and Selene and Isidro Irehi. They are extraordinary artists who have pushed me to grow while letting that growth happen at my own pace.
I am still trying to understand what kind of artist I am. Maybe I am a dancer. Maybe I am closer to a stand-up comedian whose medium happens to be movement. Whatever the label, I seem to have carved out a small artistic space that feels like mine.
Right now, I am exploring how these parts of my life speak to one another. Coding and dance both ask me to study structure, notice patterns, make choices, fail in public, and repeat the work until something communicates.
I may never feel like the most naturally talented person in the room. I am learning that this matters less than I once thought. I am curious, I love the work, and I am still here.