Archives for 2025

I’m really glad that I had the experience of travelling during a time when telephone cards were still a thing. I caught the very tail end of that era.

When abroad, I would go to a local corner store and purchase a little plastic card with maybe 10 or $20 on it. I’d go to a payphone and your dial the number on the card, it would say how much balance I had left, and then I could call any number in the world for a certain rate per minute.

I’m really glad I had that experience. The disconnection was liberating.

Don’t confuse supplements for sustenance.

Vitamins or shakes support a healthy diet, they don’t replace it.

This is less a commentary on twice-a-day multivitamins than it is on the search for quick fixes.

Many people will try sell you an easy solution (taking a supplement), when what usually matters is consistently doing the hard work (sourcing and cooking your own sustenance).

When I was in the car with Dad when I was a kid, he’d always point out if another driver was speeding, and he’d comment on how unnecessary it was. He explain how the driver would likely only save a few minutes by travelling at a dangerous pace.

Given the lifetime odds of death by automobile accidents is 1 in 95—which is an insane statistic in terms of what it says about our tolerance for death in return for the convenience of automobile travel—speeding is rarely faster, but always riskier.

The trade-off is never worth it.

Earlier this year I sold a few items I no longer needed on Facebook Marketplace. I checked the prices of similar items, and set my price at the average for comparable products: about £50.

After 24 hours, I had received no messages of interest, so I dropped the price by 20% to £40. All of a sudden my inbox was flooded with messages—it was a night and day difference. The theory bells from my Economics 101 less on the price elasticity of demand were ringing.

It’s impressive how fast these second-hand markets move and calibrate to an collectively agreed going rate.

When I was a kid, there was a board game that was always advertised on TV, it was called ‘Mouse Trap’. It was “…one of the first mass-produced three-dimensional board games. Players at first cooperate to build a working mouse trap in the style of a Rube Goldberg machine. Then, players turn against each other to trap opponents’ mouse-shaped game pieces.”

It was super expensive, and wasn’t something I was about to ask my parents for. So when I went over to a friend’s home, and they had the game, I’d always ask if we could play it.

The funny thing was their response—every single friend—was always that Mouse Trap was broken. The game seemed to have a fundamental flaw that all its small moving pieces left it susceptible to breaking. Til this day, I think I may have only played the game once, and I’m pretty sure that one play through was on a broken set.

If it happens once, it’s an isolated incident.

If it happens all the time, it’s a pattern.

Sometimes I’ll get 90% through a post, and it just feels wrong.

It may feel awkward, or lack direction, or may be missing a point.

The temptation is to push through, but at that point, it’s better to just throw it out.

When it comes to creative work, there are endless other ideas and variants we can pursue. Persisting with something that just doesn’t work does no one any good.

A few months ago, James Clear shared this thought in his newsletter.

“If you do not bend, you will break.
The adaptable prevail. Determined, but flexible.”

In particular I liked the idea that it’s good to be ambitious, aggressive, and determined with our goals, but to remain open to plans changing as new information emerges.

One thing that Maru and I have been consistent with since we met was our prioritisation of experiences over things.

The familiar is comforting, but there are an innumerable number of places to go, foods to taste, people to meet, and activities to try. And we know there won’t be enough time to even scratch the surface of all that the world has to offer.

And the best part is that as we experience new things together, we grow together.

On a flight earlier this year I started watching BBC’s Planet Earth. David Attenborough’s smooth voice coupled with stunning cinematography of the natural world is the perfect escape whilst hurtling in a metal tube around the world.

When I see incredible nature videography, it reminds me of the stories and lessons a nature-focused filmmaker friend has shared with me over the years. Firstly, all the good shots happen at sunrise and sunset. And secondly, if you need to wait eight hours in the rain and cold for that bird to pop it’s head out of it’s nest, you need to wait eight hours in the rain and cold.

I loved the commitment and simplicity with which he spoke about getting the perfect shot. And it felt like many of the shots in Planet Earth required that level of commitment, which is likely what makes it such a compelling watch.

I was recently helping someone with a job application, and by the end of it, we’d tweaked their written submission close to twenty times.

The third, fourth, and fifth drafts weren’t clear enough. Nor was the seventeenth. But after about twenty iterations, they arrived at an output they were happy with.

A lot of people will stop at draft number two. But sometimes it takes much much more to get to the required level of quality. I admire the tenacity of folks who don’t even blink twice when it comes to iterating until things feel right.

Maru and I will sometimes discuss mental load, and how we can share it more evenly.

First, there is the defined load, which is a set split of weekly or monthly responsibilities.

Then there’s the mental load for the things that come up sporadically. Planning meals, communicating with the landlord if there’s an issue, planning social activities, etc.

If the balance falls too much towards one person, we have a conversation about what mental load should shift to other.

I think these conversations are helpful because the size of the mental load remains invisible until someone describes it.

I’ve written before about how the London Underground is filled with advertisements for finance companies.

Investment apps. Crypto. Tax advice. Banks.

The thing that irks me about some of the riskier products advertised is the large print vs. fine print.

Large print: “Where your money works.”

Small print: “Your capital is at risk.”

When one message is 10x larger than the other, are we surprised what people end up focusing on?

I’ve been reminded recently of the quote: trust is earned in drops and lost in buckets.

Earning trust is a lifelong effort that never stops, even if the bucket eventually overflows drop by drop.

Every item bought has an initial purchase price, which is the money that leaves your bank account.

They also have maintenance and headspace costs. This is time spent keeping the thing working, and time spent thinking about maintaining, storing, or transporting the thing. Even if these costs are low, they exist.

We often focus on initial purchase price and give little thought to the other costs. But it’s worth tallying up the total cost of ownership, and figuring out if we’re willing to pay it or not.

There’s a lesson I’m thinking about all the time: how almost all good things in life are the result of prolonged, consistent effort.

Good relationships, careers, friendships, healthy bodies, and new skills learned. None of them happen overnight. None of them happen quickly.

They all require thought, care, patience, and commitment over a sustained period of time.

Choosing the few things that matter, and consistently putting in the effort, is what makes the difference.