Yesterday I visited a store my friends just opened. Nothing was finished, yet it felt more alive than anywhere. Not knowing how things will go wakes everything at once — hope and worry, excitement and nerves. Maybe all of it moving in us at the same time is what being alive means
Supervising Claude working from home.
No complaints so far. Doesn't take lunch breaks, never touches the thermostat.
#claude#wfh#workfromhome#ai#remotework
he says the exact opposite. He only makes music he loves. If he wouldn’t want to hear a song, he doesn’t make it. Both have made songs the world loves. I don’t know whose way is right. But whenever I create something, it crosses my mind.
I once heard an interview with JYP on YouTube. If you don’t follow K-pop, he’s the producer behind TWICE and Wonder Girls, and he has written hit songs for decades. The host asked him a simple question. When you write a song, do you make music you love, or music people will love
His answer was blunt. Why would I make music I like? He said he doesn’t even listen to his own favorite music. He listens to what people love, and that’s what he makes. Rick Rubin is another legendary producer and songwriter. In his book “The Creative Act: A Way of Being"
Work exists to help someone else.
And when your work returns to what it was meant for — helping someone else — the abilities inside you finally begin to come alive.
Most of us see work this way:
• How can my work make me more successful?
• How can my work help me get ahead?
So we chase better skills, better opportunities, and the people we think will help us reach our goals.But work was never meant to be a tool for achieving our own goals.
Non-native English speaker here, asking native speakers:
When you talk to someone whose English isn’t great, what’s the one thing you most wish they’d get right?
Pronunciation, grammar, speaking clearly, short phrases…?
If you could only pick ONE, what is it?
(A smartphone could do all of this..)
Above all, I buy myself one hour a day. A café, a walk in the park — finally sitting with the thoughts I’ve been putting off.
The more I collect what’s mine, the more I become myself. And the harder I am to replace.
Things I’ve been buying lately:
I buy things that help me capture my thoughts before they disappear.
A small Muji notebook that fits in my pocket. A cheap camcorder to film what catches my eye. A few books for fresh perspective. A voice recorder for thoughts that won’t wait.
Every morning, first thing — close yesterday’s terminal, open a new one.
Type “claude restart.”
‘Yesterday 133. Today 139. Six steps ahead while I was sleeping.’
I can’t update that fast. Some days I even roll back. Still, I remind myself —
I’m okay where I am.
It’s inside me. In the life I’ve lived, the thoughts I’ve had, the feelings I’ve felt.
But between scrolling Instagram, watching YouTube, and now chatting with my new AI friends — I spend less than a minute a day actually talking to myself.
I search endlessly — books, YouTube videos, podcasts — looking for the answer to what I love, what I’m meant to do. There’s plenty of useful information out there. But the answer I’m really looking for isn’t in any of it.
Most people have that question too. They just walk past it — doesn’t pay well, doesn’t feel stable enough.
But that question might be what leads you to work you love. Just like them.
People who found work they love all had one thing in common. They each had their own question.
Why does violence exist? How do people overcome the fear of failure? Why do certain spaces make us more creative? Why does my son always look so sad?
Just got the iPhone 17e in white. Clean. Feels like being back in high school with my iPod 3rd gen. The older I get, the more I’m drawn to older designs.
Standing in DUMBO, looking out at Manhattan full of shiny new buildings — my eyes always land on the Brooklyn Bridge.
I worked with AI all day. It never stopped generating, yet only a sentence or two stayed with me. The rest I just scrolled past.
After work, I watched Joachim Trier’s “Sentimental Value”. I didn’t want to miss a single line. If I missed one, I’d rewind.