The Day I Almost Quit
The Loss That Made Me Dangerous
Hey family,
Creating work that matters will always feel slower than selling noise. That’s not failure, it’s the difference between a spark and a fire that stays lit.
The world moves fast.
But legacy moves like roots; underground, steady, alive.
If it feels invisible right now, it still counts. The care you put in, the patience, the grind; it’s stacking. Quietly.
Powerfully.
Keep showing up.
Not for clout. For something deeper.
Because the slow grind? It’s still the grind.
You’re not behind.
You’re building something real.
You’re not lost. You’re becoming.
The Break
In 2012, I was substitute teaching.
Not glamorous, just $100 a day, no benefits, but it kept the lights on. I’d just signed the lease on my first real apartment on West Union Street: $800 a month, split with a roommate. I was broke, but proud. Scraping by felt like progress.
Then came the moment that cracked something open.
One fateful afternoon, an eighth grade student looked me in the eye and said,“I want to go to prison when I grow up.”
His uncle told him jail was cool, he’d said. Prison would take care of you. Said they’d even fix your teeth! (Wild, I know!)
I was young. Black(duh). Fresh out of college with a minor in African World Studies, working in a mostly white school district. I couldn’t let that moment pass.
So I pulled him aside and gave him the kind of talk I wish someone had given me and my friends. About freedom. About worth. About how this world might try to shrink him, but that didn’t mean he had to stay small.
Later that evening, the principal called.
No conversation. No context. Just:
“I don’t want you back in my school. Your job is not to mentor kids, it’s to pass out paperwork.”
And just like that, every assignment disappeared. No warning. No paycheck. Just cancelled.
I immediately started to doubt myself. Maybe I’d crossed a line. Maybe caring too much had cost me everything.
But the truth is, that moment didn’t just break me.
It revealed me.
I still think about that student.
Would I do it again? Yea, every time.
The Flip
In that quiet spiral, one thought kept rising:
What if I stopped waiting for permission and built it anyway?
If I was going to be tired, let it be from creating something that mattered to my goals and dreams in life.
If I was going to hustle, let it be for my own name.
That shift didn’t erase the pain.
But it gave it direction.
The Tactics
So I got to work.
That week, I wrote a business plan. Drafted a marketing blueprint.
Devoured books on branding, audio engineering, music theory, color theory; anything that lit a spark. I had friends take photos of me, and slowly chipped away at building my story and image.
I built a daily rhythm: write. produce. read. pitch. repeat.
I cold-emailed studios. Applied for unpaid internships. Just to get in the room.
Then I jumped.
Gave up my apartment. Moved closer to NYC. Slept on a friends’s couch in exchange for producing his music. He drove trucks by day. I recorded him by night. Two men chasing something blurry but bright.
Eventually, my car became my office.
Blankets in the backseat. Equipment in the trunk.
A borrowed mic. A cracked laptop. A belief I couldn’t kill.
It wasn’t comfortable. But it was mine.
And for the first time, I felt free.
The Return
In 2013, I got my own studio (story for another day) and by 2017 my music had been streamed over 30 million times. By 2019, I had songs featured on Netflix, HBO, and played at events around the world.
I still remember the first time I heard one of my songs sync to a scene, watching from that same cracked laptop. Goosebumps.
The kid who got fired for caring too much was now publishing music for the world.
Loop closed.
Field Note: What I’d Tell My Younger Self
Don’t let applause inflate you.
Don’t let silence deflate you.
A society thrives when we plant trees we’ll never sit under.
Care, even when it costs you.
We’re not here to coast.
We’re here to plant.
Don’t wait on gatekeepers. Build your own gates.
Be louder. Be clearer. Be undeniable.
When they copy you later, they’ll know it came from your DNA.
The Blueprint
2012 knocked me down.
But it also handed me something far more valuable:
The realization that I didn’t need permission to start.
That rock bottom is a trampoline if you use your legs right.
This isn’t the flex. Success is the perpetual state of reaching the part where you almost tap out, but don’t.
That’s the blueprint.
Stay sharp, stay curious, stay connected.
–Jase
PS: This week, I dropped PASSPORT, my most personal, immersive project yet. [Tap in here] to experience the next chapter!
Their loss, our gain! I love when the universe lines things up and puts us right where we were always meant to be. ♥️
So encouraging and inspiring life story. Amazing and I loved reading it! Keep grinding!!!