The Duality of Fredo

Today didn’t go as planned. At all.

I woke up flustered—overslept. Already behind before the day even started. I had a whole plan, but as soon as I opened my eyes, it felt like the weight of everything I’m managing collapsed on top of me at once.

This is the first Fredo’s House letter this year, I haven’t sent on a Monday morning at 9 a.m this morning. It’s the first time I didn’t have the capacity to. And honestly, I was beating myself up about it at first. But I realized this is exactly what I need to write about—what it means to hold so many roles at once, to be pulled in so many directions, and to accept that I can’t always be perfect.

Over the weekend, I fully saw how many hats I wear in a single day:

• Fiancé. Son. Brother. Friend.

• Leader. Business partner. Project manager. Biz dev. Strategist. Operator.

• Support system. Listener. Educator. Financial barrier.

And somewhere in all of that, I’m still supposed to be Alfred or Fredo?

I spent the last few years waking up at 6 a.m. and working until 8 p.m., stacking my responsibilities, growing businesses, leading projects, making sure nothing fell apart. But now I’m feeling the weight of it all in a different way. I’m apart of four businesses, each with their own moving pieces:

• Ghost Note – What started as project management turned into running business development, maintaining and growing the pipeline.

• Integral Studio – Building out operations, finances, staffing, and client experience, for some dope projects this year.

• Integral Records – Designing the operations of signing artists, acquiring catalogs, developing projects that push culture forward.

• Fredo’s House – Designing SOPs, building operational systems, helping founders unblock themselves.

And that’s just the work I can speak on openly right now.

I know the advice: "Focus on fewer things and do them well." But that’s never how my brain has worked. My life has never been about just one thing—it’s about finding the intersection, balancing the duality. The problem now is, I’m managing a digital world and a physical one at the same time.

When I’m locked in behind my screen, I can organize my thoughts, manage my calendar, automate my life. But when I travel, when I have to physically be in spaces, the balance shifts. Suddenly, I’m present in one world but absent in another.

And then there’s home. Making a house into a home. Maintaining relationships, being present for family, for my wife. I’ve moved across the across the country last year, and this past weekend was filled with birthdays—my mom, my dad, my boy Marv. Moments I needed to be fully in, without checking my phone every five minutes to make sure nothing was falling apart.

This morning, I had a plan. A full agenda. Instead, I spent the day driving—errands, responsibilities, commitments. I met up with the at Ghost Note in DC, people I haven’t seen in a year and a half. And I had to ask myself:

How do I stay in the moment and not mentally escape to the next thing I need to do?

I’m writing this from the Hirshhorn, walking through exhibits, surrounded by art that challenges perception. Our Director of Strategy asked asked us, "What kind of archetype does Ghost Note want to be?" And before I could answer that, I realized—I need to ask that about myself first.

I already know the answer.

Even when things get tough, I remind myself:

• I pray.

• I meditate.

• I walk.

• I listen to music.

• I smile, banter, joke, laugh.

• I remind myself that I’m human.

There’s a lesson in all of this. And the lesson is that I am built for this. Even in the stress, in the chaos, I find fuel. I don’t want it easy. I want to build, to grow, to create. But I also want to think. To breathe. To be intentional.

This isn’t a letter with a clear objective. It’s an honest moment. A reflection. A recognition that I’m in a major transitional period—building the foundation for everything I want to come next. And it’s messy, and overwhelming, and heavy. But it’s also mine.

And that? That fuels me.

Peace,

Fredo