COVID-19 has prevented millions of people from returning to their offices after the Lunar New Year holidays. Right now, many software engineers in China are likely coding from their living rooms—working from home (WFH), also known as remote work. Reflecting on my three years of working from home, I’d like to share some lessons learned and insights.

In 2015, I lived in Vancouver as a Chinese national and started working for Auris Health, a medical startup developing a novel bronchoscopy procedure. This technology enables doctors to inspect the inside of lungs using a flexible wire tipped with a camera. At Auris, I worked on Linux drivers and desktop UI, which gave me valuable insights into Silicon Valley and the startup world. However, it also forced me into a WFH lifestyle.

At the time, I was a young engineer with no family, living in a foreign country, and I wasn’t very well-connected socially. By 2017, I had moved to Toronto, but the isolation and dysfunction of working from home caught up with me. In 2018, I decided to take a local job in Toronto that paid significantly less but offered a better work-life balance. From this experience, I’ve compiled tips for surviving—and thriving—while working from home.

Protect yourself from overworking

The flexibility of software companies, coupled with a WFH setup, often leads to blurred boundaries between work and personal time. As a passionate engineer eager to meet deadlines, I often found myself working late into the night. At the beginning of the week, I could maintain a routine of waking up at 8–9 a.m. and eating breakfast. However, as the week progressed, my work hours stretched into the evening, causing me to wake up later, skip breakfast, and work even later—eventually leading to a 1 p.m.–midnight schedule by Friday.

The first point to remember is that coding is often a solitary activity, and working alone at night only deepens that isolation. The second point is that losing connection with the outside world can be easy if you don’t spend your evenings engaging with it. I often missed social gatherings or got so absorbed in work that I forgot about my plans. It became hard to feel like I truly “lived in Toronto” because I lacked a relationship with the city.

The most important point is that overworking without limits drains your energy and prevents you from enjoying life—whether it’s appreciating nature, staying updated on news, or simply living in the moment. Sometimes, taking an afternoon off can boost your overall morale and productivity. Ever since I stopped WFH, I’ve experienced a broader range of emotions and felt less like a machine. Maintaining a schedule and setting boundaries is critical to avoiding burnout.

Remove distractions from your environment

During my WFH days, I would occasionally visit the company’s headquarters for a week at a time. Comparing my productivity in the office to at home, I found I was often more productive at home—largely because of fewer distractions. While the lack of coworkers to chat with isn’t great for mental health, it does minimize interruptions, which is beneficial for focus.

Distractions at home can come from many sources. For me, a messy room or desk was the biggest culprit. When clutter accumulated, it quietly fatigued my mood. Air quality and lighting also played a big role in maintaining focus. I sometimes played music or podcasts while working, but I rarely found them helpful. Even the living room itself can become a source of monotony, which is why I recommend working from a coffee shop occasionally to change your surroundings.

Bonus tip: I consider myself a minimalist. I don’t use multiple monitors or fancy keyboards. Instead, I trained myself to work effectively with a single screen, which makes it easy to work from anywhere—whether it’s a coffee shop, meeting room, bus, or even my bed. This adaptability has been a huge asset in WFH scenarios.

Build relationships and find local communities

Engineers work hard, and they need more than just a paycheck from their job. Respect, a sense of belonging, and meaningful connections are essential. However, it’s challenging to feel included in a company’s office culture when you’re working remotely. Building relationships and finding communities requires intentional effort.

During my three years of WFH, I made meaningful connections with coworkers at the headquarters by taking every opportunity to mingle, have lunch, or take walks during my visits. Face-to-face meetings, even occasionally, can help build strong networks. However, when I stopped traveling to the office in late 2017, my sense of satisfaction dropped significantly.

To compensate, I sought out local communities by attending technology meetups. I looked for groups that were friendly, down-to-earth, and enjoyable to socialize with. The exact topics or programming languages didn’t matter as much as the atmosphere. In Toronto, I enjoyed meetups like HackerNest, Polyhack, and the Ember.js group. I didn’t even write Ember.js, but the people were welcoming and the events were always a good time. While many meetups focus on JavaScript, don’t be discouraged if you don’t write JS—the community is one of the friendliest in tech.

Co-working spaces are another option to explore. I tried several in Vancouver and Toronto, but they didn’t quite work for me. My job required deep focus, and while I enjoyed occasional ping-pong games and holiday parties, I found it hard to connect with people whose work was in completely different fields, like digital marketing or e-commerce.

Conclusion

Working from home is absolutely survivable! However, for an ambitious young engineer, an office environment might provide a richer and more fulfilling experience.

The Free Software movement once carried a set of values that are no longer influential. It has been superseded by free food and has devolved into ideological freedom. This article is highly opinionated.

Freedom

My journey with Free Software began in 2012 during an internship at Broadcom, where I hacked the Linux kernel. However, my introduction to its courage and ideals occurred in 2013 when I admired Aaron Swartz. I finally understood how the movement impacts the world at LibrePlanet 2017.

The GNU project was launched in the 1970s to replace the proprietary Unix operating system. It is better known today as GNU/Linux. GNU marked the beginning of copyleft, the General Public License (GPL), and what Richard Stallman called Free Software. In this context, free means freedom, not free food, which distinguishes it from the broader term Open Source Software. Over years of evolution, free has come to represent key ideological values beyond just having access to source code. Let me explain with counterexamples.

Execution Transparency: Owners of software-powered technology have the right to understand, control, and reproduce how the software is executed. A clear violation of this principle is the iPhone. As an iPhone owner, not only do you lack access to the source code for the operating system, but you also lack root access to the device.

Data Privacy: Individuals have the right to control their digital footprint, similar to the principles of GDPR. A clear violation of this is Facebook, which makes it impossible to use its services without allowing the company to track your behavior and analyze your data.

Decision Democracy: Software users have the right to participate in decision-making processes related to the software they use. A clear violation of this is Android. While anyone can use it for free, Google ultimately owns it and makes all the key decisions.

The GPL embodies these values through the copyleft approach, ensuring that software remains free forever. As a member of the Free Software Foundation, I advocate for these values. However, I often wonder: Are the licenses and guidelines born from these values designed for the modern software industry? Are they compatible with the current state of software development? Or are they simply aspirational goals for technology and society?

Free Food

In 2018, I was introduced to the Apache Foundation and later to the Cloud Native Computing Foundation (CNCF). These organizations are incredibly successful and represent a substantial portion of the open-source building blocks of enterprise software today, including Kubernetes, Envoy, Hadoop, Maven, Kafka, Parquet, and many more. Examining their directives and licenses (Apache, BSD, MIT), it is clear that they promote a different set of values.

Safety: The Apache License prioritizes protecting participants, ensuring they feel safe. It is designed to allow businesses to share code with minimal legal or financial risk. It does not emphasize ideological values or whether the software is free.

Collaboration: These foundations and their guidelines align with corporate business values, providing inherent incentives for companies to participate and share their work. Participating corporations often lack ideological stances beyond profit, yet they still foster healthy collaborative relationships.

Standardization: Many industries greatly benefit from standardized interfaces, which help maintain consistency for consumers when switching between competing providers. Open-source foundations act as a nucleus for standardization efforts, helping the industry reach agreements.

This approach to open-source software constitutes the free food model. It creates a platform where participants gain business value. This model arose from market needs, aiming to solve business problems rather than pursue ideals. It has become a cornerstone of the software industry, advancing businesses while potentially paving the way for ideological freedom (though I remain skeptical).

Conclusion

Efforts by the FSF and GPL to merge code sharing with ideological values often conflict with the business priorities of corporations, limiting their influence in the industry. The FSF remains a powerful force, continuing to fight for our digital freedom. However, GNU projects have been overshadowed by organic market forces, reducing them to glimpses of what a free world could look like. The Free Software movement has lost its software focus and transformed into a digital freedom movement. Free Software is dead.

In September 2018 and January 2020, I twice visited Teotihuacan, often referred to as the "Pyramid of the Sun" near Mexico City. The true names of these massive structures remain unknown, as the city fell a millennium ago, leaving no traceable lineage. Tourists are greeted with obsidian stones and pulque, echoes of an ancient culture.

My first ascent of the pyramid remains vivid in my memory: standing on uneven volcanic rocks cemented by limestone, bracing against the racing wind. What was it like in its heyday? The pyramid likely served as an altar, reserved for shamans and kings who performed human sacrifices at the very spot where I stood. Its construction must have spanned generations. How did these people find the resolve to build something so monumental, knowing they would never see its completion?

I imagined a society where inhabitants believed so deeply in their culture that they devoted their lives to it, becoming one with future generations. They transcended individual existence, forming a continuum that carried their collective identity into the future. The thought of the last generation of Teotihuacans, forced to abandon their ancestors' identities, disperse, and fade into anonymity, sends a chill down my spine.

Yet, they left behind the pyramid—a mark in history that has traversed time to reach us. It stands as an indestructible testament on Earth, a pile of rock that could withstand even a nuclear war. Through this enduring mark, the continuum survives, and the identities of generations persevere.

In our modern society, people outlive "eras." A 90-year-old American might remember the war in the '40s, the revolution in the '60s, the rise of computers in the '80s, and the internet boom in the 2000s. We seem to live forever, fully committed to our individual lives. We create, we interact, and there's so much to do! Yet, as a software engineer, I can't claim credit for anything that could withstand a nuclear war. I'm not part of a continuum, nor am I connected to future generations in the same way.

I find myself questioning: when I wither, will there be a mark? In our fast-paced, individualistic world, how do we leave behind something as enduring as the pyramids of Teotihuacan? Perhaps the answer lies not in physical monuments, but in the collective impact of our ideas, innovations, and the positive changes we bring to the world. While our individual contributions may seem fleeting, together they form the foundation upon which future generations will build, much like the stones of Teotihuacan.

1. Why talk about presentations?

In teams large or small, meetings often start with a presentation. I sometimes lose attention amongst the slides, unable to understand their relevance to the main thesis. This is especially problematic in technical design reviews due to the large amount of new information presented. In my opinion, we can improve the audience experience, and thus the overall effectiveness of these meetings, by implementing a narrative in the presentation.

2. What is a bad presentation like?

Consider this scenario: A team is considering replacing their database with a SaaS offering, and Kevin is assigned to find out more. Kevin designs the migration and calls a design review with the team.

1. Kevin starts the presentation with a block diagram of the SaaS solution.
2. Kevin explains the solution details from head to toe.
3. The audience starts to discuss performance, pricing, and scalability.
4. The audience revisits the solution details to find evidence to support their arguments.

In this case, the audience might disengage in step 2 because they struggle to digest the details without context. They wait for Kevin to finish before starting the discussion, then need to revisit the details to complete the discussion. Kevin's organization of the material is ineffective, requiring the audience to spend extra effort connecting the dots. Let's call this a subject-oriented presentation.

3. What is a good presentation like?

Kevin could reorganize the presentation to mix context with solution details, and demote inconsequential details to an appendix for later review:

1. Kevin starts with a block diagram of the SaaS solution.
2. Kevin explains whether the performance is better (or not) with details.
3. Kevin explains whether the pricing is better (or not) with details.
4. Kevin explains whether the scalability is better (or not) with details.
5. The audience discusses performance, pricing, and scalability.

This approach allows the audience to better digest the solution details and prepares them for the ensuing discussions. The meeting flows more smoothly and requires less effort from the audience. Let's call this a narrative-oriented presentation.

4. What is a narrative and why is it better?

A narrative is a storyline in the presentation that the audience can easily follow. It connects the material and promotes effective discussions. A narrative-oriented presentation creates and satisfies the audience's train of curiosity, keeping their precious attention on what matters. It's UX design applied to meetings, where the audience experience is optimized. The presenter needs to see from the audience's perspective to break down the subject, separate concerns, remove confusions, and iterate for the best narrative. Subject-oriented presentations are easier to create, whereas narrative-oriented presentations are easier to receive.

5. How to practically create narratives?

While I don't consider myself "great" at giving presentations in meetings, I believe the following tips are worth trying:

a. Create emphasis

Focus on what the audience cares about and what information they need for the discussion. Feed the audience important information simply, with just enough context for quick digestion, omitting unnecessary details.

b. Break the subject

Distribute details according to the narrative's emphasis rather than their natural structure. For example, split related technical details into relevant sections like "performance" and "scalability" instead of grouping them under "data types."

c. Review and iterate

Ensure consistency throughout the narrative by reviewing and iterating until it's free of contradictions, confusions, and complexities.

d. Add opinions

Opinionated narratives promote more audience response. Even if incorrect, they make ensuing discussions more productive. Present a stance (e.g., "the SaaS offering is more competitive") rather than a neutral list of pros and cons.

e. Ditch the slides

For team design reviews, consider using an infinitely scrolled formatted document (like Google Docs) instead of slide decks, which can enforce artificial breaks in the narrative.

f. Promote questions

Use questions or imperatives as headings instead of nouns. Include expected audience questions and discussion points explicitly in the narrative.

g. Shorten the sections

Keep each section brief enough for the audience to read without losing focus. Break longer sections into smaller, numbered parts for easier reference during discussions.

h. Read silently

Consider implementing a silent reading ceremony at the start of the meeting, allowing the audience to digest the material at their own pace. This approach, inspired by Amazon, eliminates the need for pre-meeting preparation.

By implementing these strategies, you can create more engaging, effective presentations that enhance meeting productivity and audience engagement.

While traveling in Lisbon, I attended two meetups for entrepreneurs. This was my first peek into the entrepreneurial side of the city.

General Observations

• Meetups in Lisbon are predominantly attended by English-speaking foreigners.
• Portugal offers a Golden Visa program: Foreigners can obtain citizenship in 4 years by investing €500,000 in real estate.
• There's no capital gains tax on cryptocurrency in Portugal.
• Americans can often stay in the Schengen zone beyond the typical 90-day limit without issues, except in Switzerland.
• Most bars in Lisbon offer only one type of beer, simply listed as "beer" on the menu.

Entrepreneur Profiles

Juan (NYC)

• Project: New Socks City - sustainable socks made from ocean waste
• Challenges:
  • High storefront rental costs in Lisbon
  • Communicating sustainability message effectively to consumers
• Solution: Organizing pop-up markets for Lisbon makers

Ben (France)

• Project: Datastake - SaaS solution for African data collection
• Goals:
  • Improve access to quality data for businesses and NGOs
  • Establish a marketplace for selling structured data
• Choosing Portugal for:
  • Low corporate tax rate
  • Preference for straightforward tax payment

Richard (Poland)

• Background: Created 35 companies, 13 still running with 100M total revenue
• Current focus: Robotic warehouse automation
• Advice:
  • "Choose business partners carefully"
  • "Don't undervalue yourself as a software engineer"

Lenka (Czech Republic)

• Project: YouTube channel "Chica Czecha" on education
• Insight: Online content creation is valuable for entrepreneurial careers

Riko (Finland)

• Background: Sold a DNA testing company
• Current project: Estimating carbon footprint in supply chains

Brandon (New Jersey)

• Background: Sold an ed-tech company
• Current project: Complete online high school education
• Market insight: Varying acceptance of online education across EU countries

Lourenço (Lisbon)

• Role: Undergrad in student entrepreneurship association
• Advice on startups: "Focus on the problem, not the business model initially"
• Insight on Portugal: Good for raising kids, but young people often leave

Other Local Entrepreneurs

• Pedro: Indie video game developer, creator of Idle Paladin
• Jose: Hardware startup for predictive maintenance on molding machines
• Gabriel: Hardware startup helping blind people learn braille

Roman (Britain)

• Background: Wine business owner
• Moved to Lisbon pre-Brexit to maintain EU status

So. I have a Whirlpool dishwasher that came with my newly built townhouse. A few months ago, there was a minor problem. I called the service center, they sent a technician who fixed it promptly, and it was a good experience I hardly remember. Last week, it broke again for a different reason.

I called the service center and, after waiting for 5 minutes while being repeatedly told to book a service online, I did just that.

On the scheduled day, the technician showed up and asked for a dated receipt to prove the warranty was still in effect. I explained that the dishwasher came with the house and showed him an inspection report from Ontario's housing insurance company, which is what everyone else had been asking for so far. He said he couldn't recognize it and needed to see a document of possession from the lawyers. I couldn't produce it on the spot because I didn't know what it was, and he couldn't tell me the exact name of the document.

While I spent some time looking through my bookshelf, he took a look at the dishwasher and appeared clueless about the problem.

I asked if I could call the service center or even check with the technician who came last time to confirm if he should accept my document. He said he couldn't, and any instructions had to be written in his work order.

I asked how much it would cost if I just paid him. He said $150 plus tax, adding that I wouldn't be able to expense it later to the warranty because the corporate office would decline on the grounds of "why didn't you clear it up before you paid?"

He then politely waited for about 10 minutes while I kept looking through my bookshelf. Eventually, he told me he had to go to his next customer and that I should call the service center the day after. He explained that the service center would be confused if I called on the same day since there was already a technician visit. He advised me to tell them to put in the work order what documents to accept.

I asked for his card (intending to possibly give a bad review), but he told me he didn't have one. He explained that he worked with Whirlpool directly and therefore (?) didn't have a card. He then left.

Business Analyst Hat

Result: Product is unfixed, and the customer is unhappy. Despite showing up at the customer site, having the tools and the time to fix the problem, the agent could not do it because of confusion over paperwork.

Gaps:

• The agent lacks detailed specifications of the job and the ability to retrieve them from headquarters. The customer is asked to prove themselves by producing unknown documents.
• The agent has no agency to improve the customer experience. The agent did not appear to try particularly hard to help the customer. Even if he did, he could not justify working without hard evidence of warranty.
• The headquarters has no fail-safe to salvage the customer experience. It appears reasonable to give instructions to agents on site or to honor a warranty claim after the customer pays for it.
• The headquarters is not collecting feedback data. Customer trust is eroded, but customer feedback is not solicited via surveys or the agent.

Management Consultant Hat

Consultant: Do you consider warranty service an important part of the business?

CEO: Yes, of course.

Consultant: If the customer couldn't produce proof of warranty, would you fix the product regardless and risk working for free?

CEO: No, of course not.

Consultant: But the alternative is to risk losing customer trust.

CEO: We accept that risk. We are a company of rules; we cannot let the customer get away with skimming us.

Consultant: Aren't you afraid the customer will be unhappy and go to your competitors?

CEO: We have been operating this way for many decades. We have no data to suggest customers will do that.

Consultant: Would you consider investing in a customer service department to modernize the workflows, empower the agents, and collect customer feedback to measure your improvements?

CEO: Ideally yes, but we are always short on funds. Plus, we have a long tradition of prioritizing investments in marketing. To be honest, if I keep doing that, I will keep my job. If I prioritize customer service, I will raise some eyebrows from the board.

Amazon.com Hat

The first Leadership Principle is Customer Obsession

Leaders start with the customer and work backwards. They work vigorously to earn and keep customer trust. Although leaders pay attention to competitors, they obsess over customers.

Leaders are selected and promoted based on how well they exercise the principle of Customer Obsession. Implementing systems to earn customer trust is the default. Keeping systems that erode customer trust requires substantial justification.

Guest: Never being born is quiet and peaceful. But to become a sensible being, burdened with the imperfections of human nature, plunges one into pain. It’s messy and worse than never being born. For example, once alive, one suffers from laziness because it takes tremendous effort to understand the world and find one’s place in it. Most cannot manage this and end up living against their nature. Another example is empathy, which can be painful because we know that living freely might hurt our loved ones, so we end up shackled by our obligations and relationships.

Host: To never exist is to never think or feel, but it’s hard to call that peaceful and quiet without the experience of being. The turmoil that a living being creates is mostly directed inward, rather than disturbing the peace of others or the world. In fact, the world remains as peaceful as it has always been, regardless of whether thinking beings exist. The most violent event I can imagine is a supernova—a star exploding when it can no longer bear its own weight. These events have always occurred; they are neither peaceful nor quiet, yet they continue regardless of human existence. However, the inner turmoil within oneself is real. A careless being may suffer endlessly through samsara. But this suffering doesn’t have to be a permanent state. One can move closer to enlightenment by understanding both the world and oneself, letting go of obsessions, accepting life as it is, learning to distinguish between distractions and what truly matters, and cultivating inner peace.

Guest: Is it fair to bring a child into the world if it means plunging them into suffering? Is it fair to create suffering just to fulfill one’s own desire?

Host: The problem of existence is a challenge for all thinking beings. A child knows nothing of non-existence; their world, life, and psyche are all they know. A child also knows nothing of pure peace; human weaknesses are part of the package. Since the problem of suffering is inseparable from the existence of a thinking being, it’s only fair to give both life and suffering to a new life. It’s also fair to withhold both. You and I are the descendants of a long lineage of beings who chose the former. Natural selection—both genetic and social—has ensured that populations of humans who embraced life, despite suffering, are the ones that survived.

Guest: If my child blames me for their suffering, what can I do?

Host: You should not blame yourself. You are not the creator of their suffering; suffering is innate in every thinking being. You are not even responsible for most of their circumstances—history and society play a significant role. The best you can do is be honest and help your child understand themselves and their circumstances. Make use of the tried-and-true psychological tools your tradition offers—whether it’s Christianity or another spiritual or social order—to help them live better with others and with themselves. The strength of life lies in its freedom: the freedom to be curious and discover the unknown, to change our circumstances and create new experiences, to overcome adversity, and to build our own sense of fulfillment.

On a crisp autumn night, my wife and I found ourselves in the emergency department of UCSF Children's Hospital with our son. As he dozed off in my arms, fatigue overcame me, prompting a walk around the ward.

In the lobby, I immediately noticed a group of police officers talking with two doctors. Their attention was focused on a corner room with an open door, their demeanor neither tense nor relaxed. Suddenly, a commotion erupted from inside – loud murmurs, cursing, and cries of "Get away from me!" from a girl. I turned away, heading for the restroom.

Upon my return, silence had fallen. Curiosity piqued, I deliberately walked towards the exit, passing the girl's room. Glancing inside, I saw her sitting on the hospital bed in disheveled scrubs, arms wrapped around her curled-up legs. She was a thin Black girl, perhaps 13, with curly hair tinged orange. Her body was tense, her face expressionless, eyes fixed intently on the space before her. A nurse stood nearby, both silent, neither noticing me.

Questions flooded my mind: Was she scared? Was this her first encounter with the police and an emergency room, or a familiar experience? Where was her family? Could the police, doctors, and nurses truly help her, or were they just another step in her way downhill? Would she feel supported by society, or frustrated by the uniformed adults who confined her to this corner room? Would she emerge stronger in body and mind, or more ill and distrustful?

She and I both must face life and death alone, in a world that is often unforgiving. The small measure of safety and freedom I enjoy was carved out by my family and friends and safeguarded by my ability to navigate the rules of society. Yet, when those very rules trapped me and shut doors in my face, I experienced my own share of desperate moments. In those times, I would retreat to my safe space, crying in defeat, but after gaining more strength, I was ready to struggle again. What would I have become without those second chances? Deep down, I fear I already knew the answers to the questions in my mind.

Why did you play with the food and not eat it like I told you?

This is what my father asks my toddler, and the answer, if we think about it, is simple: curiosity.

Curiosity is so deeply embedded in us that we often overlook it. It’s why we reach out, touch, and explore. I touch things because they’re interesting. I engage with the world because I enjoy interacting with it.

This impulse to explore and interact is more quintessentially human than any scientific breakthrough, legal framework, or moral philosophy. Our own experiences—our own truths—are the foundation for higher-level reasoning and meaningful social coordination. We seek more of our truth, not less, and we trust our innate ability to interpret it to build our understanding of the world.

Yet, there’s a fine line between teaching conclusions and nurturing curiosity. When shared conclusions resonate with an individual’s intuitive truths, they strengthen the social fabric. But when conclusions are imposed as dogma—designed to shape intuition instead of emerging from it—they can distort the collective understanding of reality.

In asking that rhetorical question, my father reflects the Confucian tradition, which values ancestral order and societal harmony above all—even above reality itself. While this tradition has its merits, it also reminds me of a fundamental Enlightenment principle: truth rooted in reality is indispensable. This principle may be simple, even stereotypical, but it’s one I can’t imagine living without.

Parenting is a wild ride, and today was no exception. It’s 9:30 PM, and I’m trying to convince my toddler son that sleep is a wonderful idea. We’re snuggled in bed, and I pull out my classic argument: "All your friends are already asleep, buddy. If you want to have fun playing with them tomorrow at school, you need to rest now so you’re not sleepy during playtime."

To my relief, he starts panning, tilting, and rolling—like a little camera drone settling into its dock. These are the telltale signs he’s beginning to wind down, his body finding its way to dreamland. Optimism fills the room; I imagine a smooth ride into his dreams and, for me, some quiet overtime work.

Then comes his first demand: more milk. I call his bluff immediately.
"Hey, we just had two bottles! No way you need more milk. Let’s go to sleep."
He insists, and just to spice things up, threatens to cry. Classic toddler. I cave.

I get up, tell him to hold onto his pillow, stay still, and wait for me. I return promptly with a bottle of 50% diluted milk—because, you know, compromise—and dangle it like the prize it is.
"Let’s go to sleep now," I say, feeling victorious.

It almost works. Almost.

Twenty seconds later, his sleepy little brain realizes the milk is still in my hand. He asks for it. Fine. I hand it over, thinking, Now we’re good. Surely this is the endgame.

But no. He clings to the last sliver of energy in his tiny body and declares he needs… water.

Now, this is absolute BS. He never drinks water in the bedroom, and the untouched milk bottle in his hands would serve the same purpose. I try reasoning.
"Hey, the milk will fix your thirst too! Drink that!"

He threatens to cry again.

And then it hits me: I’m the toy. I’m the shiny object keeping him from falling asleep.

So, I try a new strategy. I get up, ask him (once again) to hold onto his pillow, and make intense eye contact to double-confirm he understands: stay still while I get your water.

Here’s the twist—I don’t come back.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s sound asleep, and I’m laughing with my wife about the sheer absurdity of the bedtime shenanigans.

Lessons from the Bedtime Battlefield

The Toddler:
Our little guy has mastered the art of trolling adults. He knows exactly when he has the upper hand—bedtime. Crying equals delays, and delays mean the grown-ups lose. It’s mutual destruction, and he knows we fear it. Does he enjoy this? Probably not. But he’ll use it to his advantage anyway.

The Adult:
I played the long game. By predicting his energy levels were critically low, I pulled a next-level troll move: walking away from the negotiation table. He ran out of steam without my distraction. Game, set, match.

Final Takeaways

For the Toddler:
Maybe trolling adults isn’t the best long-term strategy. It’s rude, inefficient, and ultimately a waste of everyone’s time—including his.

For the Adult (me):
Telling the toddler to wait and then not returning might not be the most trust-building move. Lesson learned.

For Both of Us:
Perhaps we’re better off skipping the trolling altogether and embracing some good, old-fashioned bedtime crying.

And that’s parenting in a nutshell: a chaotic mix of humor, tactics, and lessons learned (mostly by me).

Ariel
By Sylvia Plath in her own voice

Stasis in darkness.
Then the substanceless blue
Pour of tor and distances.

God’s lioness,
How one we grow,
Pivot of heels and knees!—The furrow

Splits and passes, sister to
The brown arc
Of the neck I cannot catch,

Nigger-eye
Berries cast dark
Hooks—

Black sweet blood mouthfuls,
Shadows.
Something else

Hauls me through air—
Thighs, hair;
Flakes from my heels.

White
Godiva, I unpeel—
Dead hands, dead stringencies.

And now I
Foam to wheat, a glitter of seas.
The child’s cry

Melts in the wall.
And I
Am the arrow,

The dew that flies
Suicidal, at one with the drive
Into the red

Eye, the cauldron of morning.

Since my twenties, Sylvia Plath’s story has captivated me. The Bell Jar (1963), often regarded as semi-autobiographical, deeply resonated with me. The protagonist’s journey into a glamorous yet alienating world mirrored my own struggles with identity as a twenty-year-old. Back then, I read Ariel, and its haunting intensity felt like a fantastical, R-rated dream, much like the rest of her work.

Life has since tempered me, pulling me through challenges that have deepened my empathy, particularly for those less privileged. Today, I can grasp nuances I previously missed. To borrow from South Park: I don’t get it, but I get it. Adding to this, the past two years of raising a child have brought firsthand insight into the societal expectation for mothers to provide unconditional care. When I stumbled upon Ariel yesterday while reading to my son at bedtime on my Kindle, its words struck a new chord. The poem vividly captures the physical and metaphorical experience of waking to a child’s cry—a moment of unease and entrapment.

Stasis in darkness.

She is asleep.

Then the substanceless blue
Pour of tor and distances.

Plath’s imagery describes the gradual awakening. Consciousness emerges, shapeless at first, like a tenuous thread extending into the distance.

God’s lioness,
How one we grow,
Pivot of heels and knees! — The furrow

Her body begins to stir, and she regains control, as if piecing herself back together.

Splits and passes, sister to
The brown arc
Of the neck I cannot catch,

Fully awakening, she senses a disturbance—perhaps the cry of her child?

Nigger-eye
Berries cast dark
Hooks—
Black sweet blood mouthfuls,
Shadows.

Thirst seizes her, intensifying the disorientation. She hallucinates berries, their taste and texture vivid.

Something else
Hauls me through air—
Thighs, hair;
Flakes from my heels.

At last, she is fully awake, tending to her baby—soothing, cooing, and comforting with all the exhaustion of countless nights before.

White
Godiva, I unpeel—
Dead hands, dead stringencies.
And now I
Foam to wheat, a glitter of seas.

Resigned, she lays the crying baby down, drained yet serene.

The child’s cry
Melts in the wall.

Relief washes over her as she collects herself, savoring a brief moment of peace.

And I
Am the arrow,
The dew that flies
Suicidal, at one with the drive

She reflects on her life, caught in a suffocating present, with no escape from a past that burdens her or a future that feels equally oppressive.

Into the red
Eye, the cauldron of morning.

And so, she rises, ready to face the morning’s demands.

Reading Ariel anew, I felt a profound connection to the relentless cycles of care it portrays, though Sylvia Plath’s perspective is far from celebratory. Her words reflect a sense of confusion and oppression, capturing the emotional toll of motherhood as a stifling, inescapable burden rather than a heroic endeavor.

I’ve always wished I had more time to dive into the intricacies of observational astronomy. I want to understand mechanisms that seem too absurd to reason about. What are the margins of error in our knowledge? What does it mean to have an acoustic wave in the early baryonic universe (Baryonic Acoustic Oscillation)? What does it mean to have an inflation of space itself happening everywhere at once (Cosmic inflation)?

A common version of the Big Bang theory goes like this: In the beginning, the universe was incredibly small and unimaginably hot—so hot that it existed in high-energy states where even light couldn’t travel freely. Then came rapid inflation, which cooled the universe. During this cooling, lower-energy particles like baryons (matter) and photons (light) began to dominate. For the first time, light could travel through the universe. Because the universe wasn’t evenly distributed, this light wasn’t evenly dispersed. We observe this uneven first light today as the Cosmic Microwave Background (CMB). Over time, the cooling baryonic universe formed galaxies, stars, planets—and eventually dinosaurs.

Over Christmas, as I sat in my living room with a toddler asleep on my lap, I found myself staring at the shadows cast by our mini Christmas tree in the corner. The warped shadows on the back wall baffled me—it was nearly impossible to deduce the structure of the object creating them. The light source was within the tree itself, small bulbs nestled among the leaves. The overlapping leaves caused the light to pass through layers of complete and partial occlusion. By the time it reached the edge of the tree, the light had lost much of its original shape.

To the human eye, the resulting patterns appeared fractal. Trying to capture the intricacies was overwhelming—an exercise in frustration that could easily induce a headache. Setting aside the view of the leaves themselves, and focusing solely on the shadows, the tree’s mystery deepened. I could discern the shapes of one or two branches, but describing the overall structure, size, or density of the tree felt impossible.

I believe astronomers face a similar challenge when studying the CMB. The patterns in the CMB are like the shadows of the early baryonic universe, just translucent enough for light to travel through. As light passed unevenly through this dense "baryonic forest," much like the branches and leaves of the Christmas tree, it left clues about the universe’s early structure.

But the universe didn’t pause. It continued inflating everywhere at once, carrying the baryons with it. A vast baryonic sphere of unknown shape and dimension emerged, giving rise to the observable universe. We’re made of those baryons and live within that sphere. Looking around, much like a squirrel inside my Christmas tree, we only see the distorted shadows on the wall—the light warped and twisted by countless occlusions.

I marvel at how astronomers make sense of the fascinating chaos of the CMB. How difficult it must be to draw conclusions from the shadowy fragments of the universe’s earliest light!

I recently stumbled upon a page from my LogSeq journal, written this past May after a night of deep introspection and conversation (with a bit of wine involved). At the time, I realized that my longtime mode of operation—my Old MO—was no longer serving me. In that journal entry, I explored what that Old MO looked like, why I needed to change, and the shape of the New MO I’m working toward. While I’ve made significant progress since then, revisiting that process reaffirmed my insights, and I felt compelled to share them.

Old MO: Attachment to Execution, Gullibility, and Resistance

In my Old MO, I assumed that having an idea meant I needed to execute it immediately. Just as some might jump headfirst into coding a new project without verifying its real-world relevance, I threw myself into life plans or personal ventures simply because they were “my ideas.” I poured effort into their execution—spending hours, days, or even months—without ever pausing to question whether they were genuinely worthwhile.

This obsession with “getting things done” blinded me to the possibility that many of these ideas were, in fact, not worthy of deep emotional attachment. I’ve come to see that each idea is a product of a moment in my thinking process, and therefore a temporary construct. By treating every fleeting inspiration like a personal cause, I neglected to develop robust criteria for deciding which ideas truly deserved my time and passion. In a sense, I valued the outcome of my mind more than the quality of my mind’s process.

I also fell prey to societal pressures in a way that made me gullible. I wanted to be a “model citizen”—the type who works diligently, pays taxes, and never questions how to benefit from the very system I was fueling. My reluctance to question norms intersected with a resistance to advice from others. If someone offered pointers about financial success, career paths, or investing, I often dismissed them as “too mainstream” or “too materialistic.” Ironically, that closed attitude prevented me from discovering valuable insights that could have broadened my perspective.

To make matters worse, I prided myself on deferring to data whenever bigger life decisions arose. But by always waiting for external signs, I surrendered the power to define my own direction. It was as if my personal stance never evolved beyond checking off everyday tasks or chasing short-term wins. Without a deeper guiding principle, my path forward was reactive, shallow, and frequently unfulfilling.

New MO: Clarity, Openness, Refined Metrics—and Money as a Tool

In shaping my New MO, I’ve started by focusing on the human element. I respect myself as a person, strive for comfort and peace, and remind myself that life is an exercise of the soul—not merely a race to execute more tasks.

No Emotional Attachment to Ideas, But to the Process

A key part of this New MO is recognizing that ideas themselves are not sacred. They are mirages spun by the mind. The real treasure lies in how I generate and evaluate those ideas—my thinking process. By focusing on the process, I can detach from the outcomes and maintain a sense of balance. If an idea fails, that doesn’t mean I fail; it just means I need to refine my process. This perspective shift is huge because it keeps me from spiraling into frustration every time a venture doesn’t pan out as I’d hoped. I also recognize that other people often have better ideas or valuable insights into how to create good ideas, so I’m committed to learning from them.

Confronting the Fear of Opportunity

Another shift involves a willingness to confront my fear of opportunity. The scariest moves—like applying for a demanding role, delving into a field like psychology that makes me feel vulnerable, or reaching out to someone influential—won’t kill me. They threaten my ego, not my life. Now, I start by recognizing that I’m genuinely drawn to the potential benefits—be it more money, deeper insights, or powerful connections—then I research, prepare, and finally decide if the opportunity aligns with my broader plan. If the tough, intimidating route ultimately offers greater rewards, I commit to taking it.

Spend More Time Examining Ideas

Whether it’s in tech or in life, the mental muscle for examining ideas differs from the muscle for simply executing them. In personal life, this means dedicating real time to introspection. What do I actually desire? Why am I drawn to certain pursuits? Am I focusing too heavily on checking off mundane tasks and ignoring my deeper self? Just like refining my approach in a development cycle, I want to refine the ways I explore, sample, and test new life plans. Creating a long-term strategy—even if it’s just for the next two years—demands that I keep asking fundamental questions. What is fair? What is just? Where am I steering my future? By strengthening this “idea reasoning” muscle, I become more discerning about which ideas to pursue and which to discard.

Decision Posture

A solid decision posture underpins any plan—be it financial, personal, or professional. Before tackling a new goal, I’m learning to ask whether it’s worth sacrificing something as basic (yet vital) as sleep. If the rewards aren’t compelling, I’m more inclined to pause or reconsider. This applies to how I spend money and time as well: rather than investing in friends’ ventures just because we’re close, I remind myself to respect them enough to evaluate their propositions on merit. When uncertainty arises, more research or introspection is often the simplest remedy.

Another critical step is forming my own opinions on otherwise ambiguous issues. I like to keep a set of guiding questions at the ready—“What is fair?” “What is efficient?” “What is socially acceptable?” “Do I want to be seen as someone who embodies strength or good health?”—so I can quickly reference them when I’m on the fence. I refine my views through repeated practice, staying unapologetic yet open to new evidence. The alternative is a shaky posture that leads to internal thrashing whenever I’m forced to push through something unfulfilling or pointless. Think of writing tests for a feature that will never be used, or driving an hour to try a hyped restaurant only to find mediocre food and an empty sense of why I bothered in the first place. Those are moments when the lack of a firm decision posture becomes painfully clear. By defining and defending my own stance, I’m far more likely to spend my energy on endeavors that genuinely align with my values.

Embracing Money and Investing for Growth

One area where my mindset has shifted drastically is around money. I used to view the pursuit of wealth as shallow or, at most, a mundane social expectation. Now, I acknowledge that achieving financial stability—even through methods I once looked down upon, such as acquiring freshly expired domain names and selling them back to the original owners—can indeed bring genuine peace of mind. It’s not about greed; rather, it’s about aligning with the broader structures of society and acknowledging that striving for success can benefit both individuals and the communities they belong to. By contrast, resisting financial success in favor of purely personal whims can create friction with the larger social framework.

If I’m unsure what I truly want out of life, there’s a practical heuristic: aim for a well-paying job first. That environment often brings together talented individuals, from whom I can learn. Investing, too, is something I used to dismiss but now view as a common strategy among both the wealthy and the wise. By developing a “decision posture” that’s open to making money, I allow myself to cultivate opinions and strategies that serve to support my financial goals—and, by extension, my personal freedom. It’s less about idolizing money and more about harnessing the structure it can provide.

Concluding Thought

My Old MO was trapped in a cycle of constant execution without direction, chasing ideas simply because they were mine. The New MO is about honoring the processes that shape those ideas, confronting my fear of opportunity, and recognizing that financial success can be a tool rather than a temptation. It’s a conscious decision to treat my life plan with the same critical thinking I’d use when studying mathematics.

I'm excited to announce that all Embodied AI-related content is moving to a new, dedicated podcast: Embodied AI 101.

You can find it now on Apple Podcasts. I plan to update this new channel much more frequently, diving deep into the latest research and developments in the field.

For all my listeners who have followed the Embodied AI series, I invite you to join me over at "Embodied AI 101" to continue the journey.

This personal channel will return to its roots, focusing on my thoughts on software engineering, technology, and personal well-being.

Thank you for your continued support, and I hope to see you on the new channel!