When you have to start something at a certain time, your brain starts doing all the work of figuring out when you have to stop doing whatever you were doing before, based on how long the changeover will happen. So if I have to be at work at 8:00 AM, that doesn’t mean I can set my alarm for 7:59. The process of changing from “asleep, in my bed” to “at work, ready to be productive” involves plenty of steps, and it’s part of my job to figure out how long those steps take.

But this is true for pretty much everything. If I want to go to dinner with my friend at 6, I need to know the changeover process from “watching a movie,” or else I won’t get to finish it (or I’ll be late to dinner). This whole thing is why people get stuck in that loop where they have an appointment at 4 PM, so the whole day is shot; they can’t properly assess what a novel, unique changeover process looks like. And especially if you’re trying to do multiple things, then for each thing, your brain is re-doing the changeover calculations.

Deep work helps! It’s easier on the brain to do 1 thing for 8 hours than to try to do 5 different things in that same time period. You’ll lose a lot of time to the changes themselves, and your brain will have to run this whole subroutine to move from one to the other.

Deep work, routines, and acceptance of lost hours when they happen – these are the ingredients to a low-stress day!

I have been a father for fourteen years today.

Fourteen years ago, this tiny little bean dropped into my life. I was laughably unprepared, as we all are. But I had the greatest support system in the world, and in that fine, fine garden my little bean grew.

Now, my mighty Beanstalk is as capable, charming, clever, curious, and creative as any in her generation. She is a marvelous young woman, and I am proud of her every single day.

Happy birthday, my love. You have made me better with your own perfection, and I am grateful for every second with you.

Happy New Month!

A long, cold winter is finally breaking. My resolution is therefore simple: CLEAN.

Being stuck indoors really lets the junk accumulate! I need a purge and a scrub.

May your days be godly – or next to, at least!

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!