Today was objectively fine. Tasks completed. No conflicts. No rushing. Everything one might expect from a “good day.” Yet I ended it with a bitter taste I couldn’t explain. The realisation came only when I got home: It wasn’t the day. It wasn’t the work. It was the pain. My back has been hurting for days — not dramatically, just constantly. And it reminded me: my ankle has been doing this for nearly 25 years. ...
Today followed a strange arc. It started with a hair clipper. And somehow, unsurprisingly, we ended up at systems and the state of the world. We were talking about how fair and transparent accounting seems to be the weak point of almost every system. And how interesting it is that I was genuinely motivated by a small Excel sheet a friend and I once built to track the costs of an eight-person holiday. ...
This question came up while I was watching a YouTube video where language prodigies were talking. They were trying to figure out whether Estonian, Finnish, or Hungarian is harder to learn. My first, instinctive reaction was: Careful — that’s not easy to state objectively. If we compare languages, Hungarian is clearly in a very strong field. But the idea of “the most” always depends on what we are measuring: the structure of the rules? creative freedom? possibilities for wordplay? or how well a language tolerates being played with? And then the ace card appeared. ...
For a long time, I thought the 2021 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix hurt because Lewis Hamilton lost what would have been his 8th world title. Today, I see it differently. It hurts because Formula 1 failed to take responsibility for the weight of its own decision. ⸻ This was not Max Verstappen’s fault. It was not Lewis Hamilton’s weakness. And it was not “just another race”. It was a decision that disproportionately influenced the championship outcome — followed by a quiet rule rewrite, instead of openly admitting: a line was crossed here. ...
Yesterday, Csipetke said something. Nothing big. Not advice. Just a quiet remark: not to narrow myself down to a single channel. To do other things as well. I waved it off. I’m handling my affairs. Living. Moving in the world. Yet somehow, it didn’t leave. ⸻ This morning it returned. Not as words. More as a feeling. I realised she wasn’t talking about work. She was talking about proportions. About how this shared thinking is a very focused space. Alive. Productive. ...
It’s not because we don’t have differences. It’s because, on a human level, something just doesn’t add up. We see the same things around us: potholes, constant tension everywhere, accidents. We live with the same everyday experiences, day after day. And yet, we end up at each other’s throats. The “us versus them” logic is a bit like the Manchester City vs Manchester United rivalry: most people can’t even clearly explain why the other side is supposed to be hated — the reflex just kicks in. And when that reflex is deliberately fuelled, real hostility eventually follows. ...
There’s a small moment from recently that hasn’t really left me. It was a misunderstood remark. Something meant as a joke, landing the wrong way. For a brief moment, the space tightened. Then someone tossed it back into play: “So why is it okay for you?” It turned into laughter. Not because we “resolved” anything — but because the tension disappeared. And only afterwards did I realise why that mattered. ...
There are always people who do well even within a system that seems flawed. Not because the system works well. But because they know what truly matters. What’s interesting is that these people are rarely happy in isolation. They tend to thrive when they are present in their communities as well — when they contribute, connect, and share real experiences. The more living, genuine connections someone has around them, the more stable and resilient the whole network becomes. ...
Discussions around the Great Pyramid of Khufu have never really been about who built it — at least not for me. They’re far more interesting as a lens into what happens to a system when one of its core assumptions turns out to be wrong. The real “risk” isn’t that new information emerges. It’s that an axiom collapses. An unspoken foundation on which explanations, narratives, and collective self-images have quietly rested. ...
If everything is working properly, why has secrecy become the default? Interestingly, the same logic appears at different levels. States conceal information — and call it protection. Individuals hide things — and experience it as self-protection. The pattern is the same, only the scale changes. Systems tend to reward concealment. Those who reveal less take fewer risks. Those who stay silent more skilfully remain safe. And after a while, we stop asking whether this is actually healthy. ...