OPINION: Staging the Ascent: Reflections on Rockets, Markets, and Momentum

An opinion essay by Eric Rory Oso, published under Eric Rory Oso Investment Analysis (EROIA)

Disclaimer: This essay is a personal reflection and opinion piece by Eric Rory Oso, shared under Eric Rory Oso Investment Analysis (EROIA). It is not intended as financial, investment, or legal advice. Any references to markets, finance, or economic concepts are illustrative and metaphorical. Readers should not interpret this content as guidance for making financial decisions. For investment advice or financial planning, please consult a licensed professional.

Since the dawn of human spaceflight, the image of towering rockets discarding their stages one by one has come to define how we reach orbit. This carefully choreographed sequence, known as staging, is both a triumph of engineering and a necessity of physics. No single rocket engine can carry the full burden of propellant required to escape Earth’s gravity. Instead, spacecraft rely on multiple phases of propulsion, each discarding empty tanks and engines to make the vehicle lighter and more efficient as it climbs higher. For the crew on board, these transitions create a striking rhythm of experience sustained acceleration that presses them deep into their seats, followed by fleeting instants of weightlessness as one stage shuts down and another ignites. The sensation is not merely dramatic; it reveals the delicate balance between mass, thrust, and trajectory that makes space travel possible, while also testing the human body’s capacity to adapt to shifting forces in rapid succession.

My career trajectory aligns with what those who have known me have always considered me. An effortless journey, often to the point of observed hatred, where I did not even see the momentum and the success I was achieving. By all means, raiding the stock market for all its plunder and glory, and simply dancing with my dog and wife in a Captain Sparrow-like stupor. All play and no work can upset some people. This was full-fledged work. I'm sure there was no consideration to that as I rolled out of my Texas home in flip-flops and yesterday's attire. Wiping the beads of sweat from the spoils of the previous night and simply using the humidity and the mobility to detoxify myself as if in a sauna. My dog was happy. She got to go home to a larger house than she had ever lived in, had access to the backyard whenever she wished to sunbathe, and all the disposable income to blow on trips to the beach and fruitless items. We were having the time of our lives. I didn’t even feel like the 10-hour days I was putting in hurt even a little. I was living the dream of my reality and creation. All I ever wanted to be was either a man walking down Los Angeles downtown, headed to a fancy corporate job, or play for the Lakers themselves. My pursuit of these dreams gave me the foundation to progress towards rewriting my own dream life.

A spoil can be put into this reality. My dog was diagnosed with cancer, of course, in true fashion of this family, absolutely criminally misdiagnosed for a money grab. Either way, my reality and peace changed forever. My early life had the same flair. I reached a point of bliss in my life, only for it to be unfairly taken away from me through a method of shame and torturous efforts. In my daughter's life (my dog), this was not going to happen. By all means, I was supporting myself at a high level, and I was gaining momentum to the point where I could support my wife in pursuing her dreams, and take my dog to her favorite place in the world, the beach, consistently. I know that although the home would be a “downgrade” (lower sqft), her reality would be much richer. We all get to live our dream life, and I can give my best friend/daughter/partner the going-away journey that, although it would crush me, would give me infinite peace in her death to get her to the heavenly gates in a Rolls-Royce-esque fashion. What came next, we were unprepared for.

Well, let’s get physical. The dreams of yesterday and today, and the demons and pain that came with it, were put on the center stage. The dream was infused with substances that were either out of this world or possibly of it, the unfortunate reality of our time. The veil was off, and I was on a block, stripped of my clothes, as the auction started. I looked to my left and my right, and my family was no longer there, only the wretched stares: laughter, a deep unsteadiness, and razor-sharp control over every organ in my body. A mark of my own doing and my undoing in my pursuit of what I believed was freedom. An unreal reality had me walking through hospital doors while still aligning myself with the goal and dreams of tomorrow's day, looking fiercely in the eyes of the doctors, begging them to tell me I had lost my mind. A pat on the back, a shrug, and a push back into reality is what I got. Their diagnoses were correct. A look from the doctor, as by my calculations of what a mental health specialist would believe, would have me in a padded room in no time. Only a smirk, a “what do you want?”, and you must have wanted this. Fear had taken over my body, I was failing in my reality of who I was, I didn’t want to be crazy, I was afraid of opening the doors of heaven and escaping my hell. I could not take my wretchedness with me into the future. This was my salvation; I had to make a connection and step into the realm of business effortlessly. I wanted to run myself like a business, with the same smirk and snarl they gave me, with an attitude that said, "They get to do so, so will I." They answered, and my life changed forever.

A clap of hands over my sleeping corpse, one slap, two slaps, “crack.” Like Neo breaking out of the matrix and seeing the real world for the first time, I was elevated to a level I had never seen or heard about. I was unprepared, too ghetto, too abusive, too brash, too stupid in foundational values. I was entirely out of my league. I could never pick up the mantle like these corporate business and political giants could. I was an ant compared to them. Their presence made me physically sick. The weight was crushing my soul, or so I thought. I needed to do one thing and one thing only. Make a spot for myself on that roster. The seat is taken, you (insert racist slur). That’s ok, I'm going to propose a new one, just for me. I am going to be political, I am going to be brash, I am going to be stupid in the things I don’t know, I am going to be too ghetto for my rank, I am going to be unprepared, but I deserve to be here, and I am going to get better. Day in and day out, I have torn through everything that has ever been thrown at me, I have championed the pain, the sweat, and the tears, and purified it into clean, drinkable water. Statistically, I not only deserve to be here, but I think in another world, I could have kicked you out of your seat. You have never seen or even thought about the possibility of my existence. The funny thing is, I'm not alien at all. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of better versions of me out there, just short of one thing: opportunity.

My reality is sure just a “gram” short of insanity (Get it?). I understand, accept, and value your preconceived notions about me. I would have to agree, but you also need to realize I am a product of your environment. This is the world that you not only stole from my kind but built this new order on top of our bodies. One would have to rise from the toils of this existence eventually. I get it; I am probably the scariest thing you have ever seen from afar. Let me tell you frankly, I am not biblical, and I am just a man. Didn't we have the same precedence when the first black athletes rose to fame, the first black man to stand up against injustice, and the first black president? It is just now financial; it has an arm out for others, and it is statistically better and wiser than you. Oh, and regardless of how many times I have heard the N word on this ascent, I am a Mexican American first gen, born after my father gained his citizenship and proudly served in our military, no disrespect to my brothers. Still, they hate that it doesn’t fit their hatred agenda perfectly, and I've seen disrespect from both sides, respectfully.

From the early days of Honey Bear Asset Management, a truthful, progressive company that, although inexperienced, showed the promise you now see today, I always talked about analysis as landing a Spaceship on a floating rock, or an asteroid. All respect to Bruce Willis and his family, Batman, and the lovely Liv Tyler, I want to land that ship based on actual metaphysical science this time. The G forces were extreme on this trip, almost to the point where it absolutely couldn’t be feasible, but then there is data, isn’t there? All sorts, from Volatile Organic Compounds in the air, to firewall applications, to metadata in the multiverse, a missing computer, and previous cellular phones. This data makes a crazy trip fall short of the word crazy.

Regardless of experience, I chose to be the first one through the gate. There is always a frontline in the military. Usually disproportionate in race and financial status. I am here in a world that is financially unraveling in bipolar vertices, setting a precedent for the future. We will be the frontlines of this battle, but no war was won without that line making an impact. I write this before pushing my company onto the search platforms of relevance. Let's run it back one more time, a shoutout to those old days in the gym, playing basketball. Call Eric Rory Oso Investment Analysis for “Analytics That Guide You Forward.” Thank you for your time, and I promise to make the best of yours.