HENRY DIARIES: Selena in Houston - The Chemical Engineer Who’s Doing Everything Right… and Still Thinks She’s Behind
31. Chemical engineer. Six figures. First-gen daughter of hustlers. Senior manager at an energy company. Single. Loves her friends, her city, her freedom, and a perfectly plated meal. Saving like a saint, spiraling like a sinner.
MEET SELENA
Selena is 31. She lives in Houston and she has a master’s degree in chemical engineering. She makes $175K at a global energy company as a senior manager. She’s single, unbothered, and thriving… but also overthinking everything 24/7.
Selena owns more cocktail dresses than work blouses. She says she “doesn’t party like she used to,” then goes out three nights a week.
She’s the friend group MVP, and she’s the daughter her immigrant parents brag about in grocery store aisles.
And she has exactly zero idea what to do with her money.
Because she’s the first in her family to ever make this much, and there’s no blueprint. No roadmap. No one to ask.
She is: High Earner, Not Rich Yet. Houston edition.
Let’s walk through her day.
6:08 AM - Selena’s First Alarm (“Be That Girl”)
Her alarm tone is soft ocean waves because she read somewhere it reduces cortisol.
It does not.
She hits snooze.
Her second alarm is Beyoncé. She gets up for that one.
She sits on the edge of her bed, looking at her phone notifications - Slack, texts from her mom, a DM from the guy she knows she needs to stop entertaining — thinking: “I am too tired to be this accomplished.”
She lives in a luxury mid-rise near Montrose. Her rent is $2,390/month - expensive, but:
it’s safe
it’s pretty
it has a gym
it has a parking garage
and the water pressure in the shower is heavenly
Her parents think this is financially irresponsible. Selena thinks it’s cheaper than therapy.
6:30 AM - Gym, But Make It Baddie Scientist Edition
She heads down to the building gym; She does:
treadmill walking at an incline
glute bridges because priorities
light weights because she’s not trying to be shredded
stretches she saw on TikTok and may be doing incorrectly
Her parents never worked out. They were always too exhausted running their small business.
She works out because she promised herself she’d have a different life.
She works out because she wants to be alive, healthy, glowing, and unapologetically fine as hell in her 40s.
7:22 AM - Outfit Crisis (#CorporateBaddieOnABudget)
She stares at her closet: Zara, Aritzia, Mango, the occasional splurge Soho House energy dress.
Her internal dialogue:
“Do I look like a senior manager?”
“Is this too much cleavage?”
“Why does everything feel too tight? Did I drink too much last night?”
“Wear black. Black is safe.”
She chooses a black bodysuit, tailored pants, and a blazer draped over her shoulders in the way that screams:
“I’m in charge, but also aesthetically dangerous.”
She grabs her bag - a structured leather tote she bought during a depressive episode - and heads out.
7:45 AM - Commute: The Best Time of Her Day
She drives her white Lexus NX (the Houston Girl Standard Issue SUV).
She listens to Bad Bunny, Kali Uchis, or motivational podcasts about leveling up.
Her coffee is a $7 latte from a local shop because she refuses to drink office coffee.
She is aware this habit costs her $200/month. She is also aware she does not care.
8:10 AM - Office Arrival: STEM Queen Energy
She works in a futuristic building that looks like the set of a sci-fi movie about climate change.
Her job?
Complex. Technical. High responsibility.
She’s not just “smart.” She is freakishly smart.
But because her parents never bragged about her intelligence — only her work ethic — she still doesn’t feel particularly impressive.
9:00 AM - Selena Solves Problems Men With Higher Titles Cannot
She sits in a meeting where leadership tries to understand a production issue.
A senior director mansplains something she literally wrote her thesis on.
She interrupts (politely, but with lethal precision), breaks down the entire chemical process in two sentences, and recommends a fix.
The room goes quiet.
Her manager slack-messages her:
“You’re a rockstar.”
She smiles. Small. Quiet. Controlled.
First-gen kids don’t celebrate wins. They simply move to the next task.
10:45 AM - Text From Her Mom: “When Are You Buying a House?”
Selena’s parents send some variation of this text once a week.
They’re proud. They’re supportive. But they don’t understand the world she lives in.
Her mom’s text continues: “You’re 31. Is too late to be renting. Houston good place for family. Interest rates high but house is asset.”
Selena sighs.
She loves her parents deeply. But they think in ways that made sense for their generation. Not hers.
She’s not even sure she wants to stay in Houston long-term.
She loves Houston - the culture, the food scene, the rooftop bars, the music, the men (sometimes), the freedom.
But she also wants:
adventure
possibly a job in Europe
maybe a move to Denver
or maybe to stay here forever, who knows
She just doesn’t have the clarity yet.
She texts back:
“Working on it ❤️🤞”
12:14 PM - Lunch: Treating Herself With Intentional Delusion
She goes to one of those “fast casual but fancy” places where lunch costs $21 if you blink wrong.
Her bowl has:
salmon
forbidden rice
seasonal vegetables
a dressing she can’t pronounce
It tastes like finance mistakes and wellness goals.
She sits with a coworker friend who asks a loaded question:
“So… are you seriously not thinking about buying?”
Selena shrugs in that cool-girl way while panicking inside.
She talks about her fear of commitment - “to mortgages, not men” - and spirals for a second.
She wants stability. She wants roots. She wants adulting gold stars.
But she also wants options. Freedom. Mobility. A life that doesn’t revolve around whatever ZIP code she’s in.
She returns to the office pretending she’s not stressed.
2:55 PM - The Motivational TikTok Spiral
Selena’s biggest vice isn’t shopping. It’s not men. It’s not even brunch.
It’s motivational TikTok and IG reels.
She opens TikTok “just for a minute.”
Immediately, the algorithm goes feral:
“Ladies, if you don’t have $100K invested by 30, you’re behind.”
“If you don’t buy a house soon, you’re losing money.”
“Slow living girl routine: Wake up at 5, journal, eat clean, invest aggressively.”
“Passive income ideas that’ll make you rich.”
“Normalize being a soft life engineer.”
She saves videos she’ll never revisit.
She watches a 26-year-old brag about making $400K in tech.
She watches a 40-year-old talk about wishing she started investing earlier.
She watches a 19-year-old lecture about ETFs.
She watches everything and learns nothing useful.
Her brain: “You’re behind.”
Her bank account: “Girl… no you’re not.”
Her anxiety: “But am I???”
She closes the app only because she feels dizzy.
3:30 PM - Actual Work That Actually Matters
She meets with cross-functional teams. She makes decisions that save the company real money. She handles safety issues, operations escalations, and technical crises with surgeon-level calm.
Engineers respect her. Ops teams trust her. Executives rely on her.
But none of this makes her feel any more confident about her own personal money.
Because career success ≠ financial clarity.
And that’s the real plot twist of adulthood.
5:12 PM - Freedom Hour: She Leaves Work on Time Like a Rebel
She leaves on time. Unapologetically. With confidence. Because she’s finally senior enough to not feel guilty.
She’s not trying to be the hero. She’s trying to be a human being.
She drives home blasting reggaeton and manifesting generational wealth.
6:00 PM - Nightlife Prep: Where Her Personality Shines
Tonight she’s meeting friends for dinner in Midtown.
She showers. She plays music. She chooses a dress that is:
sexy
elegant
powerful
“Houston at night” personified
She loves culinary experiences. She loves mixology bars. She loves tasting menus. She loves ambiance.
People assume she spends recklessly.
Wrong.
She spends joyfully.
There’s a difference.
7:30 PM - Dinner: $18 Cocktails and Therapy in the Form of Friendships
She meets her friends - all high-achieving women in great outfits who look like they’re starring in a Latina version of Insecure.
They order:
espresso martinis
ceviche
wagyu dumplings
truffle fries
expensive desserts described as “artistic expressions”
The bill is $92 each.
Nobody flinches.
This is their joy.
This is their community.
This is their soft life.
This is their reason for working so damn hard.
9:42 PM - The Conversation That Hits Deep
Over dessert, her friend asks:
“So like… do you ever feel guilty for enjoying your life?”
Selena laughs.
Then she gets quiet.
Because yes. She does.
As a first-gen daughter:
she feels pressure to save more
she feels pressure to buy a home
she feels pressure to be “responsible”
she feels pressure to outperform everyone
she feels pressure to be perfect
Her friends nod. They all feel it.
And suddenly Selena realizes:
The thing stressing her out isn’t spending.
It’s uncertainty.
She doesn’t know if she’s “doing it right.”
And because she earns more than her parents ever did, there’s no one to guide her.
She is the blueprint. She is the experiment. She is the first one forging the map.
And it’s exhausting.
11:20 PM - Home. Makeup Off. Existential Millennial Crisis On.
She takes off her makeup, cleans her counters, and sits on her neatly made bed scrolling once more - lightly, this time.
Tips. Advice. Hacks. Opinions.
Everyone online sounds so certain.
She’s not.
She knows she’s doing well. She knows she’s saving responsibly. She knows she’s making good money. She knows she’s built a life her younger self dreamed of.
But she also knows:
She has no plan. No confidence. No clarity. No roadmap. And no one in her life who can help her build one.
She whispers out loud:
"I feel like I’m doing adulthood on vibes."
MIDNIGHT - The Moment Everything Shifts
She’s lying in bed, thinking about her parents’ sacrifices, her career, her future, her dreams, her ambiguity, her stress, her success, the life she wants, the life she’s building, the life she’s scared to ruin by accident.
She realizes:
She doesn’t need more TikTok advice. She doesn’t need more IG experts. She doesn’t need more spreadsheets. She doesn’t need more pressure from her parents.
She needs: clarity.
A plan. A direction. A way to merge her joy and her goals. A system that works with her lifestyle — not against it.
For the first time, she thinks:
“I think I need a real financial advisor.”
Not an app. Not a robo. Not a YouTuber. Not her cousin who “knows stocks.”
A real one. Someone who works with people like her. Someone who gets first-gen pressure. Someone who won’t talk down to her.
Someone who understands emotionally charged spending. Someone who knows how to build wealth without killing her joy.
Someone who can help her get her financial sh*t together without becoming a different person.
