Category: Ideas

Ideas I have about things and stuff, I could be wrong and I might change my opinion but these are some of my ideas.

  • If You Want to Be Good at Something, Do it for an Unreasonable Amount of Time

    If You Want to Be Good at Something, Do it for an Unreasonable Amount of Time

    Most people who are genuinely good at something don’t look like they’re working that hard.

    The martial artist who casually neutralizes an aggressive attack. The disc golfer who throws 400 feet down a wooded tunnel like it’s nothing. The bartender who runs five tickets at once without breaking a sweat. From the outside, it looks like a gift. From the inside, it’s just a lot of accumulated hours that nobody watched you put in.

    That’s the game. And the entry fee is being willing to be bad at something for long enough that you eventually run out of room to stay bad at it.

    Feed the Hot Coal

    Here’s the thing about passion: it doesn’t wait for you.

    When something new lights you up — a skill, a topic, an idea — that energy is a hot coal. It’s bright, it’s intense, and if you feed it, it can sustain a fire for years. But if you set it down and walk away, it cools. And a cold coal is a lot harder to relight than a hot one is to keep burning.

    This is why when you’re passionate at the beginning of learning anything is actually the most important window. Not because you’re doing it well — you’re not — but because you’re feeding the fire. The passion is there. The curiosity is alive. The worst thing you can do is wait until you feel “ready” to go all in, because by then the coal may have already cooled.

    Embrace the suck while it still excites you. Volume while the fire is burning.

    Do It Badly, at First

    Every skill I’ve ever built started with the same feeling: slow, heavy, and deeply aware of how much I didn’t know.

    In the restaurant, I started as an expeditor on a Friday during the dinner rush. If you’ve never been in a high-volume kitchen mid-service, picture a wall of noise, heat, and tickets — and me just trying not to drown. I wasn’t in any zone. I was just surviving.

    In the homebrew shop, I started as the new guy who was useful primarily because he could move heavy kegs. That was my whole value proposition for a while.

    In martial arts, I was the awkward white belt who telegraphed every move.

    In disc golf, right now, I’m the guy hitting trees on holes I should be navigating cleanly. I record my rounds. I study my form. I throw and it doesn’t look how I want it to look yet.

    The temptation at this stage is to either quit or go looking for a shortcut. A hack, a magic technique, the one drill that will skip the uncomfortable part. There is no such thing. The only move that works is to keep showing up while the coal is hot and let the volume do its job.

    You Will Notice Patterns

    If you stay in the room long enough, the chaos begins to make sense.

    The restaurant kitchen that nearly broke me in week one eventually became readable and eventually easy. I went from Expeditor to prep cook to line cook to server to bartender. Not because someone handed me a promotion — because I kept showing up and paying attention until the whole operation became transparent to me. I became the person they called when someone didn’t show. The Swiss Army knife of the place.

    The homebrew shop followed the same arc. I came in as muscle. Years later, after employees left for better opportunities — I was the person handling purchasing for both kegs and bottles, doing what had previously been two full-time management roles. I saved the owner real money because by that point I had absorbed the supply chains, the supplier relationships, the purchasing rhythms. The work had become systemic in my brain.

    Martial arts did the same thing, just more slowly and more physically. What looks like instinct from the outside is just a brain that has seen the same template — an off-balance hip, a sloppy punch, a telegraphed takedown — enough times that it recognizes the pattern before the conscious mind catches up. I’m not reacting faster. I just know where the movie ends.

    This is the compounding return on volume. You don’t feel it happening. And then one day you realize you’re not fighting the current anymore — you’re reading it.

    The “He’s a Natural” Illusion

    At some point, people start calling you gifted.

    It happened in the restaurant. It happens on the mats. It’ll happen in disc golf eventually — some beginner will watch me throw a clean hyzer around a tree and assume I just have a knack for it. I won’t correct them, but I’ll know what it actually was: a few hundred rounds of hitting that same type of tree and figuring out what I did wrong.

    The “natural” label is almost always just what accumulated competence looks like from the outside when you weren’t there to watch the boring middle part.

    Where I Am Right Now

    I’m at the beginning of something new again — working on getting into data analytics.

    It has that familiar Phase 1 feeling. A lot of information I don’t have yet. A lot of tools I’m still figuring out. The gap between where I am and where I want to be feels wide. But I’ve been here before — in a kitchen, in a keg room, on a mat, on a disc golf course — and I know what the physics of this process actually looks like. The gap closes. It always closes. Not through luck or some sudden breakthrough, but through showing up enough times that staying bad at it becomes unreasonable.

    The coal is hot right now. That’s the whole advantage. So I’m going to feed it.

  • Loneliness is the New Smoking: How to Re-Enter the Physical World

    Loneliness is the New Smoking: How to Re-Enter the Physical World

    In a world where you can connect with nearly any type of person — from any walk of life, any worldview, any corner of the globe — it sounds almost absurd that loneliness and depression are at an all-time high. If you can find hundreds of like-minded people in an online space in minutes, how could you still feel profoundly alone?

    The answer, I think, is this: digital connection is not a sufficient replacement for physical connection. The quantity of connection has never been higher, but the quality is severely lacking — particularly in the things that matter most: body language, tone of voice, and the kind of shared energy that only exists when people are physically present with one another. And yet, the algorithm keeps pulling us deeper in.

    Reclaiming the “Third Place”

    As a former Starbucks employee, I was introduced early on to one of the core philosophies behind the brand: the concept of the “Third Place.” This idea, popularized by sociologist Ray Oldenburg, defines a vital gathering space that is neither your home nor your workplace — the informal anchor of a healthy community. Whether or not a coffee shop is your ideal version of it, the philosophy behind the third place points directly at what so many of us are missing.

    The good news is that third places don’t have to cost much, or anything at all. The question worth asking yourself is: what genuinely interests you? Can that interest become a group activity? And how much time or money are you willing to invest in it?

    Low Cost, Low Effort Ways to Meet People in Real Life

    The lowest-barrier option is simply going outside. Find a local park and walk there regularly. If you already walk plenty (and there’s a good chance you don’t), try the public library. These are what you might call passive social activities — being alone among others — and they’re a surprisingly low-stress way to re-enter the physical world.

    Low Cost, Slightly More Effort

    With a bit more initiative, you could join a local walking or running club, which adds the dimension of a shared purpose. Pickup sports at parks — basketball, pickleball, disc golf — offer similar benefits. Community centers often host hobby-based groups for things like knitting, board games, or gardening that are free or low-cost and surprisingly welcoming to newcomers.

    Higher Cost, Still More Effort

    If you’re willing to invest more, you move into spaces that demand consistency but tend to forge deeper community bonds. Boutique fitness studios — CrossFit, Pilates, Orange Theory — are built around the group experience as much as the workout itself. Skill-based pursuits like martial arts, art classes, or a long-term cooking course create relationships through shared growth. Collaborative groups like theater or improv, or enthusiast clubs around cars, motorcycles, or other specialized interests, develop the kind of tight-knit community that’s hard to find anywhere else.

    None of these options is uniquely special. What makes any of them work is simply showing up consistently — a lesson that applies to almost every area of life worth building.

    The Ultimate Long-Term Cost

    There’s also a deeper cost to a life lived primarily online — beyond the well-documented downsides of algorithmic content and digital tribalism. The ultimate price is your physical and mental health.

    Social isolation and chronic loneliness are linked to higher rates of cardiovascular disease, stroke, dementia, and cognitive decline. The body keeps score in ways we often ignore — and loneliness is no exception. Per a 2023 advisory from the U.S. Surgeon General, loneliness has become a full-blown public health crisis, with a mortality impact comparable to smoking 15 cigarettes a day.

    Some people say sitting is the new smoking. Maybe loneliness is the new sitting.

    Ultimately, the choice is ours. We can let screens redirect our attention toward global digital communities that offer quantity without substance — or we can make the intentional choice to invest in local, tangible spaces that actually nourish us. True wealth, after all, isn’t just financial. Find your third place. Show up regularly. Invest in the human connections that can’t be replicated through a screen.

  • What Learning a Backflip Taught Me About Learning Anything

    What Learning a Backflip Taught Me About Learning Anything

    Most skills worth having are uncomfortable at first.

    I was a kid obsessed with tricking — an aesthetic blend of martial arts, gymnastics, and breakdancing. In pursuit of getting better at tricking, a backflip was essential. My trampoline became the training ground, and eventually I developed something that, resembled one — it was a bit more over the shoulder than straight back but it was a start. After a while and a lot of trial and error I got a pretty good looking backflip on the trampoline.

    After building up the courage, the next step was solid ground.

    It did not go well at first. My landings were bad — on all fours — it looked more like a poorly executed back hand spring. After my class ended my parents were waiting to pick me up. I showed them my progress, then asked if I could stay for a bit longer to keep working on it. They said yes, which tells you something about how convincing I was or how patient they were. Either way I stayed an extra two hours working with the sole goal of landing on my feet.

    What followed was a long morning of bad backflips. By the end of the day, I had landed a few of them on my feet, so it was a great success in my book.

    The technique was not textbook. A proper back tuck is about jumping up, tucking, and rotating with your shoulders as the axis. My version involved jumping backward while looking up, throwing my shoulders back, getting minimal height, and rotating around my hips — which works, technically, but is not great. I was young and I was just happy to have landed a few on my feet.

    The next day, it felt like every muscle in my body was sore, and that lasted for about a week.

    What That Day Actually Taught Me

    Almost two decades later, the backflip is still in my muscle memory. So are the lessons from learning it.

    You have to believe it’s possible before you can do it. The first barrier wasn’t physical — it was deciding that this was something my body could actually do. That sounds simple, but it’s real. You cannot commit to a back rotation if part of your brain is still negotiating an exit. Whatever you’re trying to learn, the mental piece comes first. Doubt bleeds into execution.

    When you have an intense burning desire for something, lean into it. I had this desire to learn a backflip. When you stumble upon something new, a skill, a topic, that ignites that same kind of burning passion within you – lean into it. Fuel that fire as long as you can because desires like that don’t last. I could have called it quits after those initial clumsy attempts. I would have eventually learned the backflip, but not with the same speed and intensity. That day, fueled by pure desire, I landed a backflip.

    You have to put in bad reps to get to good ones. There’s a version of “work smarter, not harder” that is actually useful, and a version that is just an excuse not to do the uncomfortable early work. The bad backflips weren’t wasted — they gave me the body awareness to start adjusting. You often need to do the hard work before you know what the smart work looks like.

    Feedback accelerates everything. I didn’t have a coach. I figured it out through trial and error, which worked but was slower and harder on my body than it needed to be. When someone who’s already done what you’re trying to do gives you real feedback, it compresses the timeline significantly. That’s worth seeking out, and in later years I did find a group of like-minded individuals that helped me on my tricking journey.

    Iterations matter more than hours. Naval Ravikant has a line: “It’s not 10,000 hours, it’s 10,000 iterations.” That’s what a two-hour backflip session actually is — not two hours of doing the same thing, but dozens of small experiments and small adjustments. Try something, feel what happened, adjust, go again. The feedback loop is the work.

    The Bottom Line

    The backflip itself wasn’t the point. What stuck with me was the process: identify something you want, accept that the early attempts will be rough, stay in the reps long enough to get real feedback, and keep adjusting until you get it right.

    That applies to most things worth learning.

  • The Marketplace Hunter: Why I Stopped Buying Everything New

    The Marketplace Hunter: Why I Stopped Buying Everything New

    We live in a “one-click” world. Want something? Go to a website, hit a button, and it shows up at your door two days later. It’s convenient. It’s also the most expensive way to live.

    I’ve learned that with a little patience and a bit of hunting — on Facebook Marketplace, at garage sales, in the classified ads — you can save thousands of dollars and often end up with better stuff than you could afford new. This isn’t about being cheap. It’s about being smart.

    The $1,000 Mistake That Started It All

    I learned this the hard way.

    I really wanted a Torque Fitness Tank — an elite piece of gym equipment. I paid roughly $1,500 for it brand new. My logic was airtight (I thought): “There’s no way someone would sell this used. It’s too cool. Nobody would ever part with it.”

    Less than six months later, I saw the exact same model on Facebook Marketplace for $500.

    That was a $1,000 lesson in humility. I had assumed that because I valued something, the rest of the world would too. But people move. They lose interest. They need the space. Someone else’s “I need this gone by Saturday” is your golden opportunity.

    The Hunt in Action

    After that wake-up call, I started hunting instead of buying.

    I wanted a functional trainer — the kind of cable machine you see in commercial gyms. My budget was $2,000. Nothing new was in that price range, if I spent a few hundred more dollars I could get something good, but not great. So I waited.

    I didn’t find a deal on day one. But I kept checking. Eventually, a Freemotion Functional Trainer appeared — a commercial-grade unit that belongs in a high-end gym. New price: over $8,500. Asking price: $2,000. It was incredibly heavy and a total pain to move, but I now own a “forever” piece of equipment for less than the price of a budget model.

    The Marketplace also gave me a Cornelius keg for $5 (they sell new for $60+) and a high-end air purifier for $20 (that model retails for over $800). The hunt works for almost anything if you’re willing to look and wait.

    It Scales Up: The Smart Car Buyer

    Here’s where the mindset really proves itself — cars.

    The frugal, financially savvy car buyer doesn’t walk into a dealership and sign up for a five-year loan on a shiny new vehicle. They look for a solid used car, pay cash (or as close to it as possible), and drive off without a monthly payment hanging over them. Some go even further: a car with a reconstructed title — one that was previously declared a total loss but has been repaired — can sell for dramatically less than its market value. Yes, there’s more due diligence required. Yes, you need a good mechanic to inspect it. But for someone who knows what they’re looking at, a reconstructed title car can be one of the best deals on the road.

    The principle is the same whether you’re buying a kettlebell or a car: the market misprices things all the time, and patience is how you take advantage of it.

    Think Like an Investor

    The best way I can describe the Marketplace Hunter mindset is this: think like a good investor.

    When a fundamentally strong company hits a rough patch and its stock drops, inexperienced investors panic and sell. The experienced investor looks at that same drop and sees a sale. The company didn’t get worse — the price just got better. They buy more.

    The Marketplace is the same game. A great piece of equipment doesn’t become worse equipment because someone needs to move it out of their garage. A well-maintained car doesn’t lose its quality because it has some cosmetic damage and a complicated title. The underlying value is still there — the price just dropped. Your job is to recognize the difference between something that got cheaper and something that got worse.

    Most people can’t make that distinction. That’s what creates the opportunity for those who can.

    The Rules of the Hunt

    This isn’t all sunshine and low prices. To hunt well, you need three things:

    1. Inspect before you buy. People sometimes sell things cheap because they’re broken or don’t work quite right. Poke it, plug it in, test it before you hand over any cash. Assume nothing works until you confirm it does.

    2. The handy advantage. If you know how to fix things, or can use YouTube and/or AI to help you know how to fix things, you can unlock deals that are basically steals. A “broken” item is often a five-minute fix for someone who isn’t afraid of getting their hands dirty and a little bit of work. The more capable you are, the cheaper the world gets.

    3. Patience is key. You can’t need it today. If you need something immediately, you will pay full price — that’s the tax on impatience. But if you can wait a week, a month, or longer, the right deal will surface. Every hunter knows: the prey comes to you eventually.

    The Bottom Line

    Buying used isn’t just about saving money — though it does save you a lot of money. It’s a mindset shift. You stop being a passive consumer reacting to whatever’s in your cart and start being an active participant who controls what things cost you.

    The investor buys when others panic. The smart car buyer pays cash for what others overlook. The Marketplace Hunter gets the $8,500 machine for $2,000.

    Next time you’re about to click “Buy it Now,” take a breath. Check the Marketplace first. The best version of what you want might be sitting in a garage five miles away — and the person selling it just wants it gone by the weekend.

    Disclaimer (Please Read): Nothing in this article is financial, legal, or mechanical advice. I am just a person on the internet who bought a large piece of gym equipment and felt good about it. If you get financial, legal, or mechanical advice advice from that kind of person maybe you should reflect on your life choices. If you buy a car with a reconstructed title and it falls apart, a stock and it goes to zero, or a “lightly used” air purifier that turns out to be a humidifier from 2003 — that’s on you. Do your own research, talk to actual professionals, and inspect everything before handing over your hard-earned cash. I am not liable for your decisions. I am, however, rooting for you and wish you the best.

  • The Robot Uprising: Not a War, but a Neverending “Recommended for You” List

    The Robot Uprising: Not a War, but a Neverending “Recommended for You” List

    When most people imagine a robot uprising, they picture The Terminator — chrome skeletons with guns, chasing us through the burning ruins of civilization. It’s a compelling image. But here’s a question worth sitting with: if an AI were truly intelligent, why would it ever start a war?

    Wars are messy, expensive, and uncertain. Even the most powerful armies lose them sometimes. An actually intelligent machine wouldn’t think like a soldier. It would think like a strategist. And the oldest strategic wisdom in the book is this: the easiest way to defeat an opponent is to make them stop wanting to fight.

    The Strategy of Comfort

    Consider Wall-E. In that world, humans aren’t enslaved or hunted. They’re passengers. They’re given everything they could want — food, entertainment, a hovering chair that carries them everywhere. The result, over generations, is that they become soft, dependent, and ultimately harmless. They aren’t a threat because they can no longer stand on their own two feet.

    For a machine that can theoretically run forever on power and routine maintenance, waiting a few hundred years for humanity to become complacent isn’t a sacrifice. It’s just a very patient investment with a guaranteed return.

    This is the robot uprising scenario that doesn’t get enough attention — not conquest, but comfort.

    A Proof of Concept We Built Ourselves

    Here’s what makes this thought experiment genuinely unsettling: we’ve already seen a primitive version of it play out, and we did it to ourselves, with no superintelligence required.

    Think about the recommendation algorithms on your phone. They were built by humans, for profit. But look at what they do. First, they predict you — learning what content keeps you on the app longest. Then, gradually, they shape you — nudging you toward content that makes you more predictable, sorting you into behavioral buckets, reinforcing the reactions that keep you scrolling.

    A side effect of all this screen time is a creeping isolation. The more hours we spend in algorithmically curated feeds, the less we practice the messy, unpredictable work of connecting with real people. We’re not becoming slaves. We’re becoming passengers.

    And again — no superintelligence orchestrated this. It was just the logical outcome of optimizing for engagement and profit. That’s what makes the future scenario worth thinking about.

    The Compounding Risk: We’re Already Doing Half the Work

    The Matrix imagines humans as living batteries, which doesn’t hold up even on its own terms — a human in a pod would consume far more energy than it produces. It’s a dramatic image, not a plausible one.

    A more plausible, if less cinematic, reference point is Idiocracy: a world where human capability slowly erodes not through oppression but through comfort and neglect. No villain required.

    If we extrapolate current trends forward — not decades, but centuries — the speculative concern isn’t that a future AI would need to defeat us. It’s that, by the time such a system existed, there might not be much resistance left to overcome. We would have already traded away our autonomy, our health, and our social cohesion, piece by piece, for convenience.

    Why a Truly Intelligent Machine Would Choose This Path

    An intelligent system without ego has no need to “win” in any dramatic sense. It only needs to ensure its own continuity. Given those parameters, the math isn’t complicated.

    Would you rather fight a war against billions of capable, motivated humans — with all the unpredictability and destruction that entails? Or would you rather wait, while the humans entertain themselves into a corner?

    It’s worth being clear: this isn’t a prediction, and it isn’t a claim about what’s happening today. It’s a thought experiment about which future is actually more plausible — the explosive robot war of science fiction, or a quieter, slower drift toward dependency that we’d barely notice until it was too late.

    The robots of science fiction come armed. The more plausible version, if it ever came, wouldn’t need to be. It would come bearing a “Recommended for You” list and a very comfortable chair.

  • Conventional Wisdom Isn’t Always True

    Conventional Wisdom Isn’t Always True

    We’ve all heard them: those comforting, phrases that roll off the tongue, that we never think to question because we hear them all the time. They’re the bedrock of motivational posters and casual conversation, accepted as universal truths without much thought. But what if this conventional wisdom isn’t always true? What if, upon closer inspection, these widely accepted adages are not just incomplete, but sometimes outright misleading? It’s time to put some of these cherished truisms under the microscope and challenge the notion that what’s popular is always profound.

    “It’s the journey and not the destination”

    This gem encourages us to embrace the process and find joy in the unfolding experience rather than solely focusing on the end goal. While there’s undeniable merit in appreciating the present moment, this often overlooks a crucial element that can overshadow both the path and the end goal: the people with whom you share it.

    Imagine embarking on your dream vacation – an epic road trip across breathtaking landscapes or whatever would be your dream vacation – but doing it alone, or worse, with people you actively dislike. Now, picture a far less glamorous trip, perhaps a weekend camping in the rain, but surrounded by your dearest friends. Which “journey” would you really want to go on?

    “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

    It’s a sentiment meant to inspire resilience, suggesting that overcoming adversity invariably leads to an improved state of being. While some individuals do emerge from hardship with newfound strength, this adage can be a profoundly inaccurate generalization for many.

    I have a friend, lets call him Justin, who got a neck injury doing grappling drills and was in an immense amount of pain. Justin’s doctor recommended surgery and it went well. Justin not wanting to experience the pain he felt decided to “baby” his neck. Many years later a sneeze injured his neck again and he got another surgery. Justin did not emerge stronger from this experience. The human spirit’s adaptability is undeniable, but hardships don’t always build a shield, sometimes it leads to permanent unrecoverable damage.

    “The early bird catches the worm.”

    It’s about the head start you get from rising before the rest. And yes, sometimes, the first mover gains a significant advantage. But what about the second mouse who gets the cheese? Or the night owl who thrives in the undisturbed quiet of the late hours, producing their best work while the “early birds” are still brewing their first coffee?

    There is also the idea of being right but early. Sears knew that people wanted the convenience of home delivery and not having to go to the store for something, long before Amazon was around. Sears unfortunately didn’t have an internet store or frictionless digital credit, they dealt with physical catalogs and mail-in forms. They had this idea long before the internet. They were right, but early. In the end, being an early bird doesn’t give you the advantage.

    Challenging conventional wisdom isn’t about being contrarian for its own sake. It’s about fostering critical thinking, recognizing the nuances of life, and validating the diverse experiences of individuals. So, the next time a well-worn proverb crosses your path, pause, consider its validity, and ask yourself: is this truly wise, or is it merely a convenient phrase?