How I went from Hollywood to➡️Silicon Valley to➡️the Jungle🎯Part 1

Hi Friend,

They say hindsight is 20/20. How strong is your prescription? Can you make sense of your past? Better yet, can you make sense of your future because of it?

Recently, I sent an email I’d dreamed of for years—notifying finalists and marking the official launch of Infinityland’s Creatives in Residence program. This program brings artists and changemakers to Costa Rica to focus on their craft and mental health, uninterrupted. It was a proud moment that made me pause and reflect: How did I even get here?

Looking back over the last decade, I began piecing together the twisty, turny road that led me to the destined self I was always meant to become—today. Each experience revealed more about my talents, interests, values, and intuition. Then it hit me: most people truly don’t know your full journey. They see a snapshot—a single page—and think they know the whole script. But here’s the truth: their opinions don’t matter—you’re the director; they’re the audience.

Here’s part one of my story—a reflection on the twists and turns that led to this milestone. Take note: by staying true to my vision, countless lives will now benefit and reap the rewards.

Hollywood

Lights, CAMERAS, Action.

There I was, riding in the back of a Rolls Royce with the suicide doors, sitting next to one of the biggest superstars of all time. Suddenly, the car stopped, and they surprised me with my very first red carpet at the SLS Hotel. I’d officially entered my Hollywood era.

A couple of years before that, I was scouted on my college campus, kicking off a modeling career I was fortunate to maintain internationally while studying abroad in Europe. After graduating, I was right back in school—starting my first master’s degree three days later. Literally graduated on Friday, and started grad school on Monday. I know... qué loca!

There I was at USC, working toward my Master’s in Teaching, getting closer to my childhood dream of becoming a professor and one day owning my own alternative school (clock the foreshadow). Being in Los Angeles was one thing, but living in Hollywood was another. When I look back, I laugh because I was definitely living a double life. But that was totally normal for LA. You know the classic “waiter by day, actor by night” lifestyle. Anyone who’s lived in LA knows how wild reality can get with the entertainment industry as your backdrop. One day, I’m in class, teaching students in a program I designed to strengthen race relations, reduce bullying, and improve mental health. The next day, I’m at a dinner table with Denzel Washington to my left, Floyd Mayweather to my right, and a bunch of celebs cracking up at jokes me and my homegirl Rima Fakih (aka Miss USA) are telling.

What began as a hobby started to get real real, real quick. Somehow I’d found myself featured on the cover of Nike’s website, in commercials for brands like Mastercard and David’s Bridal, and even winning “Model of the Day” on Model Mayhem (did I just date myself with that last one? lol).

On video sets, is where things really started to change for me. Front of the camera was fun, but my curiosity grew about life behind the camera. I was fascinated by the storytelling of it all. I had stories I wanted to tell! Lucky for me, I had friends who were directors. Once they saw the spark in my eyes sharing my creative ideas, the homies started putting me on. Before I knew it, I wasn’t just gracing screens, I was writing treatments and creative directing for the likes of Akon, Common, Busta Rhymes, Chris Brown, Jay Z, Kanye, and others.

My circle started intertwining with industry icons like Quincy Jones, Alex Avant, and other powerhouse families behind the music scene.

Over the years, I accumulated a whirlwind of wild memories that seem like scenes out of a movie. I worked with Will Smith’s family, scouting rising musical talent, and directing studio sessions at the Boom Boom Room. I found myself celebrating at holiday parties alongside Bradley Cooper, Leonardo DiCaprio, and OG friends like Jaleel White. There were box seats at Dodgers games with Snoop Dogg, late-night sushi at Katana’s with Dr. Dre, and birthdays spent binge-watching Ancient Aliens with Too Short. It even became tradition to hit Mr. Chow’s with Jamie Foxx, ordering half the menu surrounded by all our friends.

Random nights were spent chopping it up with Jerry Lorenzo, talking about his vision to transition from club promotion to launch Fear of God, all while music blasted around us at Greystone. And then there’s moments like being personally mentored on filmmaking by F. Gary Gray (Straight Outta Compton), after riding his Harley through the winding roads of Mulholland Drive. I told you, life was a flippin movie.

Being surrounded by Oscar, Grammy, Tony, and Emmy-winning artists became my norm. It was inspiring to be in spaces filled with so much creative energy and possibility. It felt like my dreams were infinite.

But over time, the private jets, presidential suites at the Peninsula, VIP events, and mansion parties started to feel... off. Somewhere between offroading in Jamie Foxx’s backyard, and traveling on tour with Kevin Hart, I began to notice the shadows behind the bright lights.

My spirit felt unsettled. I started waking up to the suspicious happenings—the behaviors that made me side-eye, the split personalities, the secrets, the lies, the fake friends, the fake personas, the manipulation, the superficiality, the dark side of the flashy lights. I caught myself asking: Do I even really like this person? Or am I just around them because of who they are? Are these girls really my friends, or are we just friends to be seen with? Why do our male celeb friends keep aging as each year passes, but the girls around them stay the same age? Omg, am I one of these girls? And of course, why are they making so many trips to the bathroom—is their bladder really that bad? IYKYK

I was seeing patterns, and they were making me uncomfortable. I started feeling anxious around people I used to be excited to be around. I didn’t have the language for it then, but my intuition was sending clear signals that I needed to change my environment.

On three separate occasions, women on management teams for some of my celeb friends pulled me aside to say things like, “You have a good head on your shoulders—don’t get caught up in this life. Secure your education career. Be careful around so-and-so. Don’t trust so-and-so; they’re not who you think.”

At the same time, I was questioning the toxic relationship I was in with someone 10 years my senior. The cracks in my rose-colored glasses started to spread. I became acutely aware that not only was I living in a world full of smoke and mirrors, but I was also navigating it completely alone. No family support, no safety net—just me and the naivety of being an ambitious 20-something trying to find my way.

I needed a break. So, I left.

Over the years, a few meaningful connections from that era led to some beautiful new memories being made in my current life—like Stevie Wonder serenading me and a handful of friends in his home theater, Marlon Wayans joining my birthday celebrations in Mexico, getting to support my friend Aldis Hodge during his movie promotions at Essence Fest with his family, and Common introducing me to one of the most inspiring, justice-oriented creative souls I’ve ever known, Michael Latt, before we tragically lost him to gun violence last year.

Michael’s legacy is a huge part of why I couldn’t wait any longer to do what needed to be done to bring Infinityland to life.

Nashville

Leaving a misaligned environment and an unhealthy relationship with someone I almost married by 25 was one of the bravest decisions I’d ever made. Choosing to trust my intuition over a life of glitz and glam took courage. I often reflect on that moment when facing tough choices, reminding myself how proud I was to look at my reflection in the mirror knowing I followed my inner guidance. It’s made tough decisions easier ever since.

I ended up in Tennessee—the South. Why such a culture shift when I’m a Cali girl? That’s where my dad was. Though we weren’t the closest, I needed some sense of belonging at the time. I also had a cousin who lived nearby, and her presence had been, and continues to be, one of the most healing forces in my life.

In Nashville, I ally-ooped my experience working in Leadership & Development across the Los Angeles Unified School District to land a job as the Director of a Teen Center for a local Boys & Girls Club. That job was one of the most fulfilling experiences of my life—something I loved more than anything I could humanly express. I took my expertise from a job I equally loved in LA, writing curriculum, managing conferences, facilitating programs, and training staff to revamp the Teen Center to new heights. I was grateful to have a supervisor and support team who humored my big visions and let me bring my wild ideas to life.

It was incredible to expose my youth to new worlds and first-time experiences, like learning Japanese calligraphy, trying yoga at a Buddhist temple, picking up dance moves from India, experimenting with Mexican flavors in cooking class, learning to sing in Swahili, building robots with our Microsoft partnership, critically thinking about world events, and honing their public speaking skills.

They were super talented, curious, hilarious, and diverse young people that inspired me to give them the world. I loved them, even when they made fun of my hippy dippy Californian ass for insisting on adding recycle bins to every room and wanting to eat avocados with every meal. One of my favorite highlights was watching the teens experience the Dawn to Dusk Teen Conference I put together. It brought together teens from three neighboring states and was packed with activities from sunrise to sunset, including team-building and peer leadership sessions, college and career panels, over 50 booths of recruiters, recreation time, and, of course, a late-night party. It was unforgettable to see the teens thriving and making memories through everything we created together.

My now 15+ year career working in experiential education has allowed me to support teens and adult learners with personal development focused on life skills like good character, global citizenship, healthy lifestyles, civic engagement, academic success, outdoor education, and of course, creativity—areas that often get sidelined in the classroom when the focus is on passing state tests. At the college level, my roles have been in Student Affairs and in adjunct professor positions, leading student development programs and training pre-service teachers on interactive pedagogies and participatory action research. Experiential education is at the core of who I am—it's my ikigai. It’s where my passions and professions align best. It shaped my direct-service work as an educator, led me to create a gamified learning platform as a tech founder, and now informs the foundation of my work in building a physical space, by way of my creative arts center in Costa Rica.

My impact in TN started getting recognition from our organization’s national headquarters. I was asked to join the National Safety Team for Boys & Girls Clubs of America, which positioned me to support mental, emotional, and physical safety programs throughout the year and guide security for youth during our national teen conference, bringing 1,000+ teens from around the world together for our annual convenings. Before I knew it, I was getting recruited to move back to California, this time to land in the infamous Silicon Valley. A then-Director of Development (who later became a VC I’d cross pass with again) for one of the most well funded Boys & Girls Clubs in the nation reached out to me on LinkedIn. I interviewed with the team, and after a year in TN, I was bawling my eyes out, facing the reality of leaving my teens and boarding a plane to the start of a new life with a higher salary and the prospect of getting to do what I loved to do most with more resources.

Silicon Valley

The grass is not always greener.

I’d lucked out in LA and Nashville with work environments that respected and celebrated my mind. At this new job however, things were a bit different. Little did I know I was stepping into one of the worst professional experiences of my life. Did my new organization have huge partnerships with tech companies like Google, Facebook, LinkedIn, and what seemed like every other major company on the S&P 500 within arm’s reach? Yes. Was my new supervisor a hatin' ass b*tch who wouldn’t let me be great? Also yes. The first shock came when I walked into my new site for the first time. The entire building for all age groups and business offices was the size of my former Teen Center alone. I was crushed to find out that I was going from operating a huge multi-functional recreational space to now being confined to a single room with rotations. The transition was incredibly difficult. The space was one thing. The supervisor was another. I’d never worked with someone who tried to keep me under their thumb like this before. It was like what she hired me for, she felt threatened by once I arrived. I was miserable, and the toxic environment was starting to impact how I could show up for my kids. I transferred to a new location, but not before squeezing in a bit of magic—like leading my teens to be recognized by City Council for their investigative work on the food desert they lived in.

After giving it another go at a different site—where, despite having a new supervisor, the location felt like it was run like a circus, and I’d witnessed some questionable behaviors, like my boss yelling at and cursing out a teen, only to receive a slap on the wrist from HR—I knew it was time for a change. Over the years working for the org across different states, including years prior in Arizona, I had been heavily nudged to step into a Unit Director role (a promotion), but I said no. I really loved working directly with teens and wasn’t ready to trade that in for a desk job with a fancy title. You know how it goes—the higher you climb in an organization, the further you often get from the very work that inspired you to join in the first place. Blame it on the naivety of my 20s or the passion in my heart—I hadn’t quite grasped the value of pensions yet, haha.

Around this time, I was in the first year of my doctoral program at USF, studying International and Multicultural Education with a focus on social justice. It felt like the right moment to step away from the job to focus on school. I was able to do so while still maintaining my role on the national team to continue getting direct time with youth at our Keystone conferences. Despite the challenges I faced with the local orgs, I remained grateful for one thing: it brought me to the Bay.

Yay Area

This is when I decided to pick my camera back up. That’s right—I figured the best way to complement my broke student status was to add “starving artist” to my title. Smart move, right? But honestly, it gave me the chance to reconnect with the craft I’d fallen in love with years earlier in LA but now I could use it to serve a greater cause.

It was the era of Black Lives Matter, the Women’s March, the Trump election, and so on—I found myself with the exact skill set to archive history in real time. As a skilled photographer and filmmaker, academically trained in sociology, anthropology, education, critical race theory, international relations, and social movements, I used my gifts as a digital media artist to document history unfolding— some would say set to the soundtrack of E-40. I was immersed in organized movements, particularly to amplify voices for Black Lives Matter. (Sadly I lost most of my footage from the #MeToo Movement because of a hard drive tragedy - I’ll accept your concepts of thoughts and prayers.)

I worked closely with the mothers and families of police brutality victims, including Tamir Rice, Oscar Grant, Sandra Bland, Eric Garner, Mario Woods, Mike Brown, Trayvon Martin, and many more, while also collaborating with BLM co-founder Alicia Garza and multiple national chapters. I had the honor of working with and meeting legendary Black Panthers like Emory Douglas, Erica Huggins, Bobby Seale, Kathleen Cleaver, and Angela Davis, witnessing firsthand the legacy of freedom fighting in real time.

I also partnered with local politicians, police departments, and justice organizations on the ground. Among my proudest accomplishments was organizing a speaking series that brought the mothers of the movement to universities and conferences, where they inspired people to see their own power in shaping a safer, more equitable future.

By my late 20s (27-29ish), I had become an award-winning artist recruited by Arianna Huffington to contribute to Huffington Post, featured in Essence magazine, and collaborating on projects with icons like Harry Belafonte and Cornel West. My works were showcased in exhibitions such as The Black Woman is God and Rebooting the Future at SOMArts & Cultural Center, and I earned my place as a Collective Safety Fellow at the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts. I had my first stint as a gallery assistant at the Ashara Ekundayo Gallery and led student affairs at an arts college. My creative pieces gained recognition for the interactive experiences I designed between film, photography, and augmented reality.

One of my most notable works was The Revolution of the Angry Black Woman, an interactive piece that featured 30 Black women from across the Bay Area sharing intimate stories about navigating intersectional identities, addressing racism, sexism, homophobia, and more. I’ll never forget the participants’ responses—some thanked me with tears in their eyes, saying, “My throat chakra had been closed for so long. You helped me open it up again. This was so freeing.”

(Revolution of the Angry Black Woman will be available to view in part 2)

Meeting myself in the jungle

All of this was my reality before becoming a tech founder—a rich, meaningful life filled with impact and deep experiences that shaped me as both a creative and a person. Yet founding a tech company (more on this in Part 2) seemed to reduce my identity to that single chapter, overshadowing all I’d accomplished before and the dreams I still held for the future. This disconnect plunged me into a deep depression as I lost touch with my authentic truth. I’d always been a creator—whether through performance art, visual art, or experiential art in modeling, photography, filmmaking, and education. Creativity is the language of my soul.

But in the tech world, I lost sight of my north star, and my life became consumed by capitalism—the very system responsible for many of the disparities I had fought against as an artivist. The jungle gave me the space to reintroduce myself to myself, offering the clarity to design a future where I could balance the power of business to generate both impact and income while honoring my art.

As I’ll share in Part 2, my art led me into tech, and burnout from tech ultimately brought me to the jungle. It was here that I rediscovered my creative path—now with a deeper understanding of business through social entrepreneurship—and returned to my true self. Sending the email to notify the finalists for Infinityland’s first Creatives-in-Residence cohort to join me in Costa Rica marked a pivotal moment, 10 years in the making— a winding journey culminated in shaping a vision to help others by creating a space and opportunities to nurture their art and mental health simultaneously, protecting their well-being from the burnout I had experienced.

The twisty, turny journey that brought me here equipped me with the creative, educational, and business skills needed to make this moment possible. (More on this in part 2). Every step had a purpose. By trusting the full script of my story—rather than listening to naysayers who’ve only skimmed a few pages—I’ve positioned myself to change the lives of so many others, just as my track record would predict.

Here are some questions you can consider to sharpen your 20/20 vision as you reflect on your life, and realize that every twist and turn was the right one to arrive at your destiny:

• Looking back, what patterns or themes have you noticed in your life that indicate you're following a larger purpose?

• When did you have to take a leap of faith, and what came of it?

• What is something that once felt like a detour, but now you see was an essential part of your journey?

• How have your passions or interests guided you in making decisions, even when they seemed unconventional?

• What lessons have you learned that you couldn’t have understood without going through particular struggles or setbacks?

• When have you trusted your intuition or inner voice, and how did that lead to a significant breakthrough?

Take a moment to honor your journey—twists, turns, and all. Your road was made for you. Keep your eyes on your inbox, Part 2 is on the way.

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Feliz Navidad y próspero Año Nuevo to you and yours!

Pura vida,

Kristina 🌺
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