I love cultural mixing. I love visiting other cultures, and I love when people from other cultures visit mine. Sometimes this is as big as a person from another country visiting mine (and I’ve had the pleasure of hosting several such people before!), and other times it’s just someone who was raised very differently having dinner with me and seeing all the interesting ways our assumptions clash. Regardless, I find the discussion around how our cultures intersect or diverge to be a fascinating one, always.

One way people from different cultures interact that I particularly love is when they (good-naturedly!) make fun of each other for not behaving in accordance with cultural norms they only just found out about. I might buy someone their first cheesesteak, for example, and before their first bite I’m ribbing them over eating it wrong, or something like that. I love this, because it’s an invitation. It’s saying, “Hey, you should adopt this cultural norm! You should become part of my tribe, so we can share this special in-group knowledge!”

Not being delicate with someone is an expression of friendship, of tribal unity. You’re diplomatic with someone when… well, when you’re a diplomat. An “other,” only visiting. But if we’re going to become friends or even family, we laugh together. We joke and jostle and make fun, a little. We “mean” at each other, sometimes just to give the other person permission to do it back. We become closer, and it gives meaning to our time together.

Come have a cheesesteak with me any time, my friend.

Let’s say you buy a car. It’s extremely comfortable. It’s very clean. It has lots of awesome features – great stereo, powerful air conditioning, adjustable seats, lots of trunk space. Very roomy. Satellite navigation. Every feature you can imagine.

But it doesn’t run. Is this a good car?

Most goods and services have a core function – a single thing that represents why you’d buy it in the first place. Everything else is bells and whistles. You can judge those extras (or lack thereof) under whatever criteria works for you, but if the thing doesn’t perform it’s core function, then all the extra amenities in the world don’t create value.

Just remember that whenever you have to make a judgement call about what to provide in your own line of work. Always prioritize the core function.

Trying to improve too many things at once can be detrimental, even setting you back farther than where you began. This can be true even if all the improvements are individually good ideas!

You can try to improve your health with a new diet and exercise regime. You can start a business as a side hustle. You can start dating seriously. And once each of those things are in maintenance mode, they can co-exist. But trying to start all three at the same time is not a good idea.

You can’t rush certain things, and certain things have to be done in order. Take your time – your better life will be there when you arrive.

I used to dislike how people needed “social permission” in order to listen to obvious good advice. If a wise scholar or “guru” says it, you’ll do it; if a rando off the street says the exact same thing, you’ll ignore it.

Not anymore. I understand the value of social permission. People need it, because the good advice is only obvious if you already know it! If you don’t, then you don’t know it’s good advice – and the admiration of your peers, while not a perfect validation system by any means, is better than no signal at all.

There’s a funny meme that goes: “I’m going to get a good grade at therapy, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve.”

It’s funny because there are plenty of people who want to do therapy “correctly” (and plenty of other subjective things, too). But look a little closer, and this kind of “correct” always translates to “whatever gets me superficial approval from a perceived authority figure.”

If something is subjective like that, then the main – often only – person whose opinion matters is you.

Some things are goals, and some things are tools to achieve those goals.

There’s no universal categorization, of course. What’s a goal in itself for me might only be a tool for someone else. A good example is exercise. Some people enjoy jogging, and the feeling of doing it is enough to entice them; the health benefits are secondary. Other people hate jogging but do it anyway because they want the health benefits. To the former person, jogging is a goal; to the latter, it’s a tool.

Understanding why humans do certain things – whether they’re tools or goals, means or ends – is an important part of predicting why they might or might not rush to engage with some substitution.

Imagine that someone invents a pill that gives all the health benefits of jogging without having to run a single step. This person expects no one to ever jog again, opting instead for the cheap, efficient medicine. To their surprise, many people continue to jog! Not all of them, of course, but way more than expected. The inventor’s confusion comes from not realizing that there were people who were jogging because they wanted to, not as a means to an end.

Some people like to experience art. They like to look at a painting, stand in the presence of a sculpture, or listen to music. Other people use art as a means of connecting with other people – often the artist themselves. They aren’t just looking at Starry Night, they’re reaching across the gulf of souls to connect to the heartbeat of Van Gogh. They’re screaming along to The Clash not because of an objective appreciation of a well-constructed song, but because they want to borrow some of the burning indignation between the notes.

That’s why it’s never mattered whether or not art was “good” to some people. What mattered was what it communicated, because some people were always using art as a language, not a platonic representation of beauty.

Things like AI will replace some art, for some people. I expect that it will illustrate a lot more cereal boxes and movie posters. But it will never replace our desire to simply know another human in some new and novel way. Not everything is a tool to be replaced; some things will always be experiences to be cherished.

My marvelous Miss Squish, my middle child, turns nine years old today. What a wonder she is! Endlessly curious, smart as a whip, funny and joyous. She solves puzzles, crafts, invents, explores, and creates endlessly. She is a constantly humming machine of creativity and brilliance.

My father pegged her as philosophically brilliant at a young age, not just scientifically so. The last voice mail he ever left me (which I still have saved) was him explaining to me why she was clearly a genius, and she’s only gotten smarter every year since then.

She’s also a supremely sensitive young lady, in tune with both her own emotions and those around her. She can pick out a sad child or a ticking temper tantrum intuitively. And she’s ever so kind.

I love her more every year, and I can’t wait to see the next few dozen lives she chooses to live. Happy birthday, Squishy!

What you think is “average” or “normal” is a function of what’s normal for you. Both because we tend to generalize from the self, and because birds of a feather flock together.

In terms of generalizing from the self, people have a tendency to consider themselves dead average in a lot of categories, and don’t think the range is that wide. Even if you know you’re above- or below-average at something, you still don’t think that the far ends of the spectrum are that different from you.

But this is also a factor of what your life looks like. If you’re a pro athlete, you probably know a lot more other pro athletes than the average person who isn’t one. As a result, most people you know are probably in much better shape than the average, which further skews your view of what “the average” is. “Sure, I think most normal people can bench 300 lbs.,” you might say – because you can, and lots of your friends can, too. But that’s not a representative sample!

And you are never a representative sample all by yourself. Even if you take one of those tests like in grade school and it says “You’re in the 80th percentile,” that still only means you’re smarter than 80% of people who took the test. That by itself is a skewed metric!

The point is this – when you’re trying to guess what a group of people is going to be like on average, never use yourself or the people you know as your measuring stick!

It’s always odd to me when I see someone complain about an experience that they deliberately altered from its intended state.

Sometimes you see someone review a recipe very poorly, but they’ll say something like, “I substituted banana for the eggs and rice for the flour and it turned out gross; this is a terrible recipe. 1 star.” If you make eight substitutions to a dish at a restaurant and then don’t like it… maybe that’s on you?

People change the rules of games, ask for alterations to outfits, or change driving routes. That’s fine if you know what you want, likely because you’ve had the standard experience before. But if you haven’t… try it. At least then you might have some sense about what to change!

It’s been a long time since I was in school, measured both in years and technological advances. So maybe what I’m proposing is actually being done in some schools! But either way, here’s an exercise I’d give students frequently:

I’d ask a question about history, current events, or something similar. I’d then tell the students to use whatever technology they want to find out the answer and report back. Sometimes they could work in teams, other times alone. Sometimes I’d directly supervise, and other times I’d give them complete autonomy. When they reported back, they’d be graded on accuracy and completeness of the answers, with bonus points for demonstrating real understanding.

The goal should always be to promote critical use of research tools. It will absolutely never matter whether or not you have the state capitols memorized. What will matter is whether or not you can find information when you need it, and whether you can determine what information is accurate from amid the noise.