Archives for January 2023

When people say “invest in experiences” they usually talk about the costs vs. the benefits.

What’s usually missed in this equation is the idea of memory dividends. Each time we remember an experience, that memory is paying us an enjoyment dividend.

Although we don’t enjoy the memory as much as when we first had the experience, we still derive benefit from remembering it.

Personally, I’m thinking of a family vacation to Maui, the time Maru and I slept under the stars in the Sahara Desert, backpacking around the USA on a shoestring budget when I graduated high school, and getting to see the All Blacks play in a World Cup Semi-Final; to name a few!

Furthermore, the earlier we have experiences, and the better we capture them—in journals, photos, or videos—the longer we can enjoy them, and the higher the memory dividend.

I’m now not just thinking of the cost and the immediate gain, but the long term dividend that comes from an experience.

H/T: Bill Perkin’s for this concept from his excellent book ‘Die with Zero’.

What’s the most impactful book you’ve read in the past year?

What’s the most impactful book you’ve re-read in the past year?

The difference may be subtle, but the distinction is important.

Maru and I were out walking today when we saw a toddler in a puffy, Michelin-Man-style, winter snowsuit. They were waddling around in an oversized helmet, and their Dad was following behind with a small push scooter in tow.

Maru and I chucked at the scene. In that snowsuit, the kid was protected against any kind of fall and probably didn’t need the helmet either.

However, it dawned on us that for young children, it’s not the helmet that matters but the habit. If they get into the habit of doing the right things early, it’ll be automatic when they’re older.

It also applies to much more than helmets.

The draft is comfortable in its folder. It’s in no hurry to leave. And it won’t move on its own.

We may tinker with it for a bit. There may be new words on the page, new notes in the song, or new brush strokes on the painting. We may even congratulate ourselves for half-finished work.

But at the end of the day, hitting publish—sending our work out into the world—is where the real magic happens.

More process is unlikely to solve the problem.

It might. But it probably won’t.

It’s the pat-on-the-back “we were productive today” kind of option. But it’s a sure-fire way to leave the hard stuff for tomorrow.

I was thirteen the first time I picked up a bass guitar. I was “relegated” to the bass because I was the worst guitarist in the band. I didn’t find it funny then, but I do chuckle about the Paul-McCartney-esqueness of it now.

I had a problem though: I played the bass like a guitarist. I had rhythm but lacked groove. I tried to insert myself everywhere, play as much as possible, and fill the empty space.

Our school’s band coach pulled me aside after our first practice and told me “less is more”. I had no idea what he meant, and annoyingly, he didn’t elaborate either.

During the next couple months he’d repeat “less is more” to me over and over. I’d walk away puzzled time and again.

But one day it clicked.

The purpose of the bass is not to shine, it’s to lock in with the drums and provide a foundation for the rest of the song and instruments to build on.

The fewer notes I played, and the more I played those notes in sync with the kick drum, the better our songs sounded.

It was a lesson in restraint, taste, craft, and listening before acting, all wrapped up in one.

On the contents page of every issue of The Economist, they print their mission statement: to take part in “a severe contest between intelligence, which presses forward, and an unworthy, timid ignorance obstructing our progress.”

Not few. Not some. But every single issue.

Keeping the mission front and centre is like navigating with a map. Its presence and placement in a prominent place keeps us on track.

Once we find a place for the rug, we make plans like it’ll be there forever.

No one expects the black swan event until it happens.

We shouldn’t live in fear of the rug pull, but we should entertain the notion that it may occur and prepare accordingly.

I recently came across the following description of impressionist art in Oxford’s Ashmolean Museum: Impressionism is not about rendering the landscape, but about rendering how that landscape feels.

It reminded me of the saying that we often forget what people say, but we remember how they make us feel.

Both expressive brushstrokes and wholehearted friends leave lasting impressions.

My favourite Chinese New Year tradition is the Lo Sahng (in Cantonese) or Yu Sheng (in Mandarin), which translates to ‘Prosperity Toss’. It’s a salad made with raw fish, shredded vegetables, and a variety of sauces and condiments. It’s a complex dish with lots of ingredients and with each one holding a specific meaning.

Once the salad is ready, all diners at the table stand up and use their chopsticks to toss the ingredients on the platter whilst shouting “auspicious wishes” for the year ahead. Things like “good health” and “abundance” can often be heard alongside “happy new year”.

I’ve participated in three Lo Sahngs already this year, and I love sharing that moment with family and friends—it’s one that always makes us laugh and puts us in good spirits.

When I was a kid, I used to look at my mum making the Lo Sahng and wonder why she bothered with all the effort.

Now I realise traditions are special precisely because they require effort.

If all we hear is positive feedback, then it’s the only thing we expect.

But when negative feedback arrives, it can crush.

So, the people who are willing to regularly tell us when we’ve done wrong are a gift.

Although their constructive feedback can sometimes taste like vinegar, its that which makes us able to taste the honey in their praise.

Note: Thanks to Tim for the conversation, and the straight shooting feedback, that inspired this post.

It’s not the writing, nor the editing, nor the posting, nor the replies.

It’s knowing that the inside of your mind is on display.

It’s the realisation that someone out there will dislike, disagree, or disapprove of what you have to say.

It’s wondering if the thing rattling around inside your head is meaningful enough to warrant someone else’s time.

These fears are good. They inspire curiosity, care, and investment in the craft.

I was surprised to read about a new report from the Canadian Centre on Substance Use and Addiction; which was sponsored by Health Canada.

Their latest guidance on alcohol consumption is to have fewer than 2 drinks per week. This is significantly lower than their previous guidance published in 2011 which recommended fewer than 10 drinks for women, and 15 for men.

The science is effectively saying that alcohol, in any quantity, is bad for your health.

My prediction is that this is just the beginning of a wave. Over the coming 5 years, we’re going to see health boards across many countries publish reports and studies encouraging people to limit, or eliminate, alcohol consumption.

During my travels in December and early January, I was struggling to get more than 6 hours sleep per night. Once I got back to London, this trend continued. I knew I needed to make changes because consistently getting fewer than 7 hours sleep per night is unhealthy. So I’ve been trialing a few sleep-related experiments, and the early results are promising.

First, I realised my caffeine intake was too high. I was drinking between 4-6 cups of coffee per day—mainly for the taste, rather than the kick—but ingesting this much caffeine was almost certainly impacting my sleep. So I’ve since gone cold turkey, and today is Day 5. I definitely miss coffee, have thought about having a cup every day since stopping; that alone has told me I was addicted to the stuff.

Second, I didn’t have a reliable bedtime. I would typically hit the hay between 22:30 and 01:00, which wasn’t giving my body a firm routine to anchor in. What I’ve changed is I’ve set an alarm on my watch to go off at 22:30 each evening, and at this point I start getting ready for bed. I think I’ll try keep this up for weeknights, and allow a bit of flex on weekends.

Finally, I didn’t have a “wind down” routine. This meant the transition between work, chores, or hobbies and bed was quite abrupt. So now when my watch alarm goes off, I get my workout and work gear ready for the next day, I brush my teeth, write in my journal, and settle into bed with some reading. By 23:15 or 23:30 I’m usually feeling tired, and soon after drift off to sleep.

For the last 3 nights in a row, I’ve slept about 8 hours. This is still a small sample size, but it’s already a massive improvement. I don’t know if it’s one thing, or a combination, that has contributed to the change, but I’m pleased with the progress.

I’ll report back in a couple weeks. I’ve set the goal of staying off coffee for 2 week and seeing how I feel at the end of it.

A colleague shared this great blog post from Joel Spolsky from 6 April 2000. Yes, you read that right, from the year 2000!

The post centres around Netscape, and their decision to scrap version 5.0 of their internet browser, in favour of re-writing their entire application. This turned out to be a colossal mistakes.

In the 3 years that they took to perform the re-write, they lost most of their market share to Microsoft. By 2007, Internet Explorer had 77% market share, Firefox had 16%, and Netscape had less than 1%.

Spolsky’s point was that in software development, product teams will often think a complete re-write is going to solve the problem. The code is messy, it’s bloated, and it’s hard to understand. But within that complexity is a tonne of bug fixes, and knowledge, and past hurdles that have been overcome. Throwing all that away is costly. And during the same amount of time it takes to do the re-write, competitors who are shipping new features and quality improvements are either catching up or extending their lead. It’s a great lesson in fighting the allure of the re-write.

What I also loved about this post is how it illustrates the magic of blogging and having your own space on the internet. I love that it was shared with me today—almost 23 years after being posted—and I could still find value and utility in it, and use my own posts to share it onwards with others.

Note: If you’re interested in reading a more detailed history of Netscape, I found this article enlightening.