Finding My Flow
As a software engineer, I’m a professional music listener. Before becoming a dad, I would clock over 100,000 minutes on Spotify every year. But this isn’t just about being obsessed with music — it’s about how hip hop literally shaped who I am.
Hard Hitting Calmness
I was a sweet, thoughtful kid growing up, but not particularly confident. I was hard on myself, a perfectionist who developed pretty bad anxiety in high school. But even back in middle school, I’d discovered something that helped.
Before school started, I’d plug in my headphones. The fast-moving flows would make me feel calm — ironic, right? But there was something about that intensity that grounded me when my mind was racing.
When I was 10, I got Speakerboxxx/The Love Below (Outkast’s double album). Growing up in a religious household, my parents only let me listen to Andre’s side because they liked Hey Ya (which is ironic — there was less cursing on that half of the album, but the content was probably more inappropriate haha), but I discovered Big Boi’s half on my own. Listening to him absolutely dice up every track with varsity bars and fast delivery — I was hooked. My mind runs fast, and hip hop’s rapid-fire flow made me feel safe in a way other music couldn’t.
Reclaiming Myself
In middle school, I was goofy and not afraid to be myself. I would always make a rap song about any book we read in English class. But as anxiety crept in during high school, I lost that side of myself. I do remember my senior year of high school we were studying Othello, and I decided to make my magnum opus of English class raps — we had a student teacher, and I just remember everyone being like, “woah where did this come from?” I reclaimed a small piece of who I used to be.
That’s happened multiple times in my life — even right now as I’m battling some of the hardest things to ever happen to me. I lose myself sometimes, but hip hop always brings me back. Reminds me who I am and gives me confidence to reclaim myself.
The Soundtrack of Everything
Music became essential as I went through more pain: my mom getting sick, anxiety, health issues, relationship issues. The older I got, the more I needed it.
Looking through my Spotify “likes” lets me remember exactly what I was going through at any given time. Life is cyclical — similar problems, same music, same coping, just more maturity.
I listen to boom bap in the fall — that’s the ultimate ego boost. Hard beats, elite flows, classic braggadocio that you just don’t get from other sub-genres. As a software engineer, I love the “Related Artists” rabbit hole. You could probably get from any rapper to Mozart in a dozen clicks, which is kind of wild to think! That’s how you expand your taste and find genre benders (Kenny Mason, Aries, and Jean Dawson are some of my favorites).
I remember when my daughter was born, Smino dropped Luv 4 Rent. She had trouble sleeping, and I’d have my AirPods in, putting her to sleep with that light butt pat every parent knows. Smino’s crazy out-of-pocket flows mixed with the drums perfectly — I’d pat Kenzie to that consistent cadence until she fell asleep.
I remember the songs I listened to when I got job offers, what was playing on the way to my grandpa’s funeral, the track that was on when I solved a two-week problem at work, what song I had on the day before I proposed. It’s all ingrained.
The Artists Who Shaped Me
Saba is one of my favorite rappers, and each of his first three albums hit me at wild times. Bucket List Project inspired me to build software side projects that made me smarter and catapulted my career. Care for Me? My mom died of cancer shortly after I graduated college. Saba was grieving his friend’s death, but it helped me grieve my mom. Few Good Things? I had a job offer for an insanely high salary and had just found out I was going to be a dad. That album uses his grandparents’ house as this metaphor for family stability — how when everyone scattered from that foundation, the family fractured. I stayed up till midnight when it dropped on New Music Friday. After listening, I woke up the next morning and turned down that huge raise opportunity. A few months later I started Haystack. Music can really move you — that’s wild.
Growing up, I loved Nas—he had a way with words that made you feel like you were there. Kanye was incredible before… well, yeah, but he always inspired me to push myself, be brave, and create. Lecrae, even though he’s Christian rap, is honestly elite—consistency, depth, feelings, pain. That conscious rap was easy to pitch to my religious parents and became my favorite. It kept me afloat during the hardest time of my life and left me open to faith again.
The Deep Work
In college, I got my first Bluetooth speaker. I’d listen to music and study nonstop—that’s when my listening went way up, and I got straight A’s (minus one… thanks, data structures). Whether it was coding homework or a painting project in my dorm, I was locked in. I only needed my music to push me through.
Hip hop made me deep and reflective — it shaped how I write, how I have conversations, how I approach problems. I spent countless hours in my parents’ basement making music, learning to mix and master before YouTube tutorials existed. Hip hop taught me that sharing your art is vulnerable but necessary — whether freestyling for friends or posting songs online.
Sometimes I’ll share a rap lyric with my business partner about a situation we’re facing, and it makes perfect sense to me. He just looks at me like “what?” because he doesn’t listen to much rap. But those bars capture exactly what we’re going through better than I ever could explain it myself.
Hard Hitting Softness
Here’s the ironic part: hip hop is often about being “hard,” but some of the best artists are incredibly vulnerable. Songs will literally move me to tears. Hip hop taught me it was okay to feel deeply, to process pain over 808s.
But let’s be real—nobody wants to go for a run and realize the lyrics they’re listening to are absolute garbage while they’re trying to reflect on life as their feet hit the pavement. On the flip side, sometimes I listen to trash just for the flow or vibe. Sometimes you need something to make you feel, not through words but through cadence and beat.
Hip hop keeps changing, and it helps me stay open-minded. As I get older, that gets harder. You might hear something the kids like and think “what?” But then you appreciate something about it. Maybe it lacks depth, but the simplicity is beautiful — hip hop is hip, after all. It keeps me on my toes and reminds me not to get stuck in my ways.
Now
I don’t rap much anymore, but when I don’t believe in myself, I flip on my favorite songs and transport back to when I first learned confidence. Being a dad has changed my relationship with the music, but I still need it to feel like myself.
I want to pass that feeling on to Kenzie. I want her to feel like she can express herself and channel other people’s art to inspire her own. We live in a world where anything can be generated instantly, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t still make our own art.
Hip hop made me creative, confident, empathetic, and resilient. It taught me that vulnerability is strength, that it’s okay to feel everything, and that sometimes the hardest beats help us find our softest truths.
What made you? Sometimes our most powerful influences come from the most unexpected places.
