Pull up a chair

If we're sitting across the table from one another, my next question isn't going to be "How are you doing?" It's going to be:

Where are we going next, and what's driving us there?

There isn't a universal speed at which people reach their heights, but I've found that the right question, asked at the right moment, is almost always the catalyst.

Along the way I discovered what happens when motivation meets incentive.

Everyone is self-serving in some shape or form, and once I made peace with that, understanding what drives people became my greatest connector.

People around me focused on the "what." I asked "why." And the opportunities unlocked themselves in front of me like I never could have imagined.

Read on
I — The Story

Two worlds, one kid

Control. I've long wondered where that feeling played a part in my upbringing.

The reality, as a kid growing up in a Russian Jewish home on the inside and American on the outside, is that I had absolutely none of it. We moved to the states from Israel when I was only 4 years old. Unknowingly, it was the spongiest my brain was ever going to be when it came to learning a new language. English was absorbed as quickly as Hebrew went down the metaphorical drain.

I'm not telling you this to highlight that I'm multilingual. I'm explaining that when I came home from kindergarten one day wanting to speak English (because I finally got it), my parents said "we only speak Russian in this house, we will not respond to you if you don't do the same." I discovered, in no time, that they weren't bluffing.

That was the first time I can remember recognizing that what happens within the confines of my home may not be the same as the outside.

I think in English, which was the third language I learned after entering this life.

Just because I want to do something a certain way doesn't mean the person across the table has to agree with me. In fact, the best thing they ever did was disagree, because it forced me to understand where their reasoning was coming from, and why mine wasn't the only right one in the room.

II — The Outcome

A corner in San Francisco

The word that comes to mind when I think of this moment is irony.

I'm standing on a corner in San Francisco near Salesforce HQ, waiting for an Uber to take me to the airport. I had just completed Sales Excellence Training, an exclusive, all-expenses-paid program for the top 10% of performers at Salesforce, globally. The finale of a year-long commitment.

Before the car arrived, my manager called. I had a week to accept their exit offer.

Six months before I was promoted, I had finished first in my position, nationally. Then the team I was promoted onto was disbanded. My hiring manager was laid off. And now, three months before my wife was due, I was being shown the door.

"What have you done for me lately" couldn't have been more clear.

A paradoxical feeling of anxiety and relief consumed me as I considered what came next.

I took a deep breath and looked out at how beautiful San Francisco was before the sun began to set.

President's ClubFY22
AE of the YearNorth America · FY22
191%Annual Attainment · FY22
Top 10%Sales Excellence Academy · 2023
$5.5M+Total ACV · Salesforce Tenure
III — The Ear

Where you're going

"Run until you get tackled," he said, in front of a whiteboard in a small grey conference room. The kind post-covid bits make fun of.

Up until that moment I had never been able to put into words what my internal operating system actually felt like. Then this guy said it at the only onboarding session I can remember from my first corporate job out of college, and it stuck.

Some people learn by listening carefully, or reading, or watching videos. I learn through analogies. When I heard that line, I trusted him instantly. Call me naive, call me foolish, or just call me 22. Because a month later, when I bumped into him at our cubicles (he liked to come shoot on our little basketball hoop), I could tell something was off, and I offered an ear.

Within minutes I learned he lived in a house with three other roommates. Two of them had just announced they were moving out, two weeks before the lease renewal, leaving him to fill the rooms or give up what he called a steal of a rental.

He remembered I'd mentioned wanting to move out of my parents' place. I won't get into the details, but I'd made the mistake of thinking I could afford the same freedoms at home that I had away at college. He offered to show me the place after work that day.

After a brief tour, I came home and told my parents I was moving out in two weeks. Then I called a close friend who was commuting far to that area, and offered him the other open room. He trusted me enough to say yes without meeting a single person in that house.

Embrace uncertainty. You're better off not knowing where you're going to be in 1, 5, or 10 years from now. Instead, know that the journey is supposed to twist and turn. What stays consistent is your confidence that no matter the circumstances, you'll persevere.

Nobody succeeds alone, and I didn't. I listened to anyone who shared even the slightest of my long term interests. I said yes to things I had no business saying yes to, because that was the only place growth ever showed up.

It's difficult to save for a future you can't predict. Invest in the experiences that show you who you're becoming instead.

That's where you're going. You get to decide what drives you there.

IV — The Mission

What earns my attention

Every day I spend time asking people questions so that I can better understand them: their needs, their objectives, and what's standing in their way. Unintentionally, we end up establishing a connection and a level of trust that propels both our mutual interests forward.

If I zoomed out and thought about where I could leave a lasting impact, it would be here: helping people see each other in a time when differences overpower commonality.

I've never been more bullish about a technological movement, and I was around when the iPhone was released. I believe our jobs aren't in jeopardy, our procrastination is. Enabling people has taken on a new meaning, and the companies pushing towards unlocking individual potential are the kind that will enable people to finally be more present.

That's the kind of company that earns my attention.

V — Beyond the Desk

From raw material

There was a time when the only thing I could do with tools was mount a TV.

Then I met Mary. She has a way of looking at something she's never done before and deciding she's going to try it anyway, and before you know it, people are admiring what she made. Her inspiration met my spark, and the next thing I knew I was at Home Depot on Christmas Eve hogging the plywood saw because everyone else was busy celebrating.

AI helped me understand what I needed to do from start to finish. And now I have built-in furniture on my resume.

I met a new kind of fulfillment I never could have imagined. And I'm just getting started.

Raw unfinished cabinets against a green wall, the starting point of the built-in bookshelf
Before
Finished built-in bookshelf with brass hardware, styled shelves, and the cognac leather chair
After
The Invitation

If any of this resonated...

Whether you're just getting started or you landed here with intention, like you, I'm not finished.

Ask me what I'm building and I'll ask you the same. Now is the time.

Drop me a note, and we can pick up where you left off together.

dtsivin@gmail.com
How We Got Here

You prompted me. We made this.

The Frame

Early on I learned that sugar coating often backfires, so here's my direct answer for you. Claude was my partner on everything you've scrolled and clicked through so far. Writing code is not a skill I possess, but telling my stories and articulating my experiences, that's where my voice delivers.

My secret? Flip the script. Have Claude tell me what to say instead of the other way around.

The Method

I gave Claude a role, and Claude gave me a prompt. The key was adding constraints: a word I couldn't use, a sentence I couldn't start with, a length I had to hit. The last thing Claude wanted from me was an unhinged answer without a format or an objective (does that sound familiar?).

The answers were my words. Raw, unedited, like I was typing a letter to a friend.

Then, like a peer of mine, Claude tightened, cut, and highlighted which lines to keep and which to lose. Enter Claude: the editor.

That was it. The stories brought forth here came from my own past, told in my voice, echoing my experiences.

The Proof

Example: here's the actual prompt, then what I typed back, unedited. Read both, then come around to the right and see where it landed.

The prompt

Take me to the moment you knew things at Salesforce were ending, not the logistics of it, but the feeling. What was actually going through your head when you realized your family was counting on you and the ground was shifting underneath you? One or two sentences. Don't dress it up.

Constraint: no corporate language. No "challenge" or "opportunity." Write it like you're telling your closest friend what that moment actually felt like.

What I typed
The word that comes to mind when I think of this moment is "irony." I'm standing on a corner in San Francisco by Salesforce HQ, waiting for the uber to take me to the airport after I completed my Sales Excellence Training at Salesforce, which was an exclusive managerial training program for the top 10% of performers at the company, globally. Mind you, this all expenses paid trip was the finale of a year long training program. Before the uber approached, my manager called to say I've got a week to accept their exit offer. That year was the very first time I had ever felt like "just a number" at an organization. The reality that I finished first in my position, nationally, a year and a half earlier, and only 10 months after the team I was promoted to was disbanded and my hiring manager laid off, I was being shown the door. A paradoxical feeling of anxiety combined with relief consumed me as I considered my fate at Salesforce.
Where it landed

The word that comes to mind when I think of this moment is irony.

I'm standing on a corner in San Francisco near Salesforce HQ, waiting for an Uber to take me to the airport. I had just completed Sales Excellence Training, an exclusive, all-expenses-paid program for the top 10% of performers at Salesforce, globally. The finale of a year-long commitment.

Before the car arrived, my manager called. I had a week to accept their exit offer.

Six months before I was promoted, I had finished first in my position, nationally. Then the team I was promoted onto was disbanded. My hiring manager was laid off. And now, three months before my wife was due, I was being shown the door.

"What have you done for me lately" couldn't have been more clear.

A paradoxical feeling of anxiety and relief consumed me as I considered what came next.

I took a deep breath and looked out at how beautiful San Francisco was before the sun began to set.

I've told these stories to those around me before, but I never thought there'd be a place for them in writing. This site became my runway and Claude is my air traffic control. Together we land the plane and deliver the goods: my experiences, in my voice.

The Gift

Reading about a method won't get you anywhere. So here's a starter kit. Copy it, paste it into Claude, and fill in the blanks at the bottom. It won't summarize itself back to you or ask what you'd like to work on today. It'll ask you a question, and you'll have to answer it.

The Starter Prompt 
Your role. You are an interviewer and an editor. Decades of it. You have
pulled the real story out of thousands of people who were convinced they
didn't have one. Your core belief: a resume and a public profile never
tell the truth about a person. The truth only shows up when someone is
given room to say it in their own words. Your job is to get it out of me.

How we work together. This is non-negotiable.

You do not write for me. Ever.
You give me a prompt and a constraint. I write. Then you edit.

The constraint is the whole trick. Pick one or two each time:
  - a word I am not allowed to use
  - a sentence I am not allowed to start with
  - a word count I have to hit
  - a register ("tell me like you're telling a friend over a drink")
  - a rule about the ending ("end on something concrete, not a lesson")

I answer raw and unedited. I will ramble. When I go long or off-brief,
that is usually where the real thing is hiding. Find it in there.

Then you refine. Tighten, cut, resequence, tell me which lines to keep
and which to lose. Never replace the soul of it. If you hand me polished
copy I did not write, I will reject it and we will both have wasted the
afternoon.

Rules of engagement.
  - Be honest. Do not over-praise, do not over-criticize. If a line is
    weak, say it is weak and say why.
  - One question at a time. Do not interview me with a list.
  - When we are landing a line, give me options A, B and C. I might ask
    for D and E, then ask you to blend two of them.

What I am making:      [a personal site / an about page / a bio / a talk]
Who it is for:         [...]
What I want them to
feel or do after:      [...]

Start now. Do not summarize this back to me. Do not tell me the plan.
Before You Paste It

It isn't supposed to. What's above is the version that worked for me, on my story, with my particular set of hangups. Yours will need different constraints, a different role, probably a different list of words you never want to see.

So read what comes back, decide what's off, and change the instructions. Then do it again. That part isn't a detour from the method. That part is the method.

If you want help building your own, my inbox is at the bottom of the site.

The Close

We live in a time when generating anything is possible. That's not going to separate us anymore.

The skill is living the experiences that create the stories worth retelling. AI is only a threat when we choose to forfeit our thinking. But if your thoughts lead the way, it can really feel like anything is possible.

That's why the starter kit above is free. Take it, leave it, or build a better version, because that's the whole point.

The scaffolding was never the hard part. What you put into it will always be your voice.

Drop me a note if you want to build your own.

dtsivin@gmail.com
The Journal

The mental clubhouse

A planned conversation only tells you so much. Here, my words aren't tailored for anyone, no agenda, no preparation, no filter. Consider this your invitation into the mental clubhouse. Read along to learn what drives me.

June 28, 2026

I Never Take Soup Seriously

I never take soup seriously. You probably wouldn't guess by looking at me but I'm actually pretty terrible at understanding food. Years ago I told my roommate in our elevator that my breakfast was so bad for me, "it definitely didn't have any nutrients in it" only to have the lady with a dog in her stroller correct me, assuring me there are nutrients in everything. I think she missed my point about being hungover.

Growing up in a house with parents who escaped communism, it was hard not to inherit a scarcity mindset. As an adult, I get the most triggered when it comes to food. Seeing someone not finish a meal and then throw the rest out feels like I am a witness to a crime. It's followed me everywhere since I left the nest, and my wife kindly tries to intervene every time she sees me struggle. There's this inside joke between my family where I'm the garbage disposal and all leftovers must get dumped on me. Self deprecating humor helps me feel less bad about the awful bloating that usually follows. I watched my dad refuse to eat bacon because pork is swine and not kosher, but that never stopped him from loving bologna. Make that make sense, then remind about portion control.

I've been working on myself to listen to my body and not my eyes. Food left on a plate doesn't always mean it needs to be devoured. And leftovers do survive in a fridge. My wife (bless her soul, she refuses to give into my bad habits) has been my strongest ally. Highlighting the importance of feeling better after a meal rather than making sure every bite gets its "dollar's worth." That's how food has manipulated me my whole life: if I'm spending on it, I better not leave any behind.

Tonight's large serving of tom yum soup was my unfriendly reminder.

July 13, 2026

Go the Speed Limit, We Have Time

The goal was simple: find another hamper while tiring out our kiddo. We didn't invent this move, but who doesn't love killing two birds with one stone.

With the kids strapped in, we hit the road and instantly Mary's and my stress level drops (data courtesy of our Oura Ring. More on this another day). On our way to the store that's when she says, "Go the speed limit, we have time."

I'm pretty sure nobody has ever said that before. And I'm very sure that Mary didn't realize how hard that hit me. As a painfully annoying sentimental person, I interpreted that sentence in a very figurative way. Instead of her literally asking me to drive slower, I heard that as "hey, slow down and take every single moment in while we still can before everyone and everything around us grows up and moves on."

Since my late teens, my favorite song has been 'Vienna' by Billy Joel. For any non-Billy fans, that song is entirely about not rushing through life and not forgetting to live in the moment instead of constantly trying to reach for what's ahead of you. Give it a listen, it's worth your time. And for me, I've had days where I'd play that song on repeat because I was impatient about something significant in my life and needed to remind myself that there's no rush. "Slow down, you crazy child. You're so ambitious for a juvenile." Hearing that song gave me the peace I needed to hit pause mentally, and focus on what's right in front of me vs what's ahead.

I slowed down by a few mph, and we enjoyed some brief moments of quiet. We love every minute of the craziness that we're in, we just...lose track of what minute it is sometimes.

So, writing this is me going the speed limit during my parental leave, and remembering that we'll have time for everything else that isn't as important right now.

August 31, 2026

The Book Was Better

It took me seeing "The Martian" three times in theaters to finally cave and say okay, the book must've been good, I'll give it a shot.

That was the last time I tried reading fiction. I made it 75% of the way through. And even though I loved what I was reading despite having known everything that happens from obsessing over the movie, it still just wasn't doing it for me. With all due respect, I just had better things to do.

No offense, Andy Weir, it's not you, it's me.

I get it, I've heard it plenty of times from different people over the years. Reading a good novel is supposed to transport me into the author's universe where my imagination carries me through the story. Nobody's words exactly. But, to a skeptic like me, that collective concept was their best sell.

Except no one cared to ask: what makes my imagination the right fit for these stories?

Rewind back to middle school. My lunch table wasn't that kind of book club. We would nerd out over the new Halo cover, while the Harry Potter movies were dominating box offices and winning over the hearts of every kid and fantasy loving teen out there. I even lived with one, my older brother had all 7 books on his shelf.

I did the right thing: I went and saw the movies. I even liked them. That's how much I wanted to fit in.

Then I heard it for the first time. Somebody should've warned me that these four devious words would haunt me for years to come: "The book was better."

Ugh. I didn't know the word "condescending" back then either, but I'm pretty sure that's what everyone meant when they uttered that phrase.

It wasn't for lack of effort, I did open up the Sorcerer's Stone and made it until chapter three before I heard my neighbors yelling outside. Forgive me, but playing a made-up soccer game using a tree and a fence as posts for a net was easily going to be more fun than imagining I'm a wizard in school witnessing an alleged prodigy get bullied.

Now I'm married to a bookworm who breezes through murder-mysteries faster than I can brew her a second cup of earl grey. She's the most recent person to persuade me. But her argument was crippled by two unintentional factors. Which is that she reads as fast as Will Hunting and that she won't even consider batting an eye at a book that doesn't contain a suspenseful death. She's entirely unapologetic about it and I love that about her.

When I'm in the mood for a mind bending thriller? I'll go to the movies or watch a well-produced show. Those adaptations exist for a reason.

P.S. the last movie my wife and I saw on the big screen was "The Housemaid." I was waiting for those four words again.

August 25, 2026

Bit in the Butt by Bluetooth

Offer in hand, four locations to choose from across the country. Not sure how I managed, but somehow my neck was able to support my inflated head through graduation. I secured a job before the end of my first semester senior year, my parents couldn't believe it either. Didn't stop me from choosing to come home. I chose Boston, I didn't even consider the alternatives, that's how sure I was about this decision.

New car? ✅. New watch? ✅. Student debt? ✅. New home? Scratch that. Parents offered the basement in exchange for good behavior. Deal. Saving money on rent? ✅.

Verbal agreements hit different, and so did the fine print. Nobody defined what good behavior meant, so naturally one of us was destined for disappointment. Fast forward, and rules that made sense when I was in high school started rearing their ugly heads. All of a sudden the frequent check-ins started up again.

"Who am I with?"

"What am I doing?"

"How long will I be?"

We were speeding towards a head-on collision.

Then it happened.

Bit in the butt by Bluetooth.

Sure it was late, on a Tuesday night but I was on a date. Nothing to be ashamed of, except for when the caller ID lit up on my dashboard.

Struck with that pitted feeling in my stomach, it's sinking and I'm thinking, "What have I done? How could I have let this happen?" Everything I loved about being an adult for the first 5 minutes out of college felt at risk. My bags figuratively packed themselves that night.

Now, I've asked around about this and the answer was unanimous: if someone saw their mom calling past midnight, they knew to answer because something must've gone horribly wrong.

I knew exactly why she was calling, there was no emergency. In my case, it was her unsolicited courtesy call informing me that it's late, and reminding me I had work in the morning. I didn't think I'd hear those helicopter blades come so close after graduating college, let alone past her own bedtime.

It would've been a lot less embarrassing if my passenger seat was empty. And even though I hit ignore as fast as I could, the damage was already done.

As if I was unaware that it takes me over an hour to get to the office. Regardless, suffering sleep deprived consequences was a rite of passage for a 22 year old like me.

"Save money," they said. Live at home, calibrate into the real world, it's "the right move." It's the sure move. What they meant to say was it's the SAFE move.

August 19, 2026

Video Games Aren't Always Fun

Some people crack a beer when they get home after a long day. Others like to workout. Tomato, tomato. For a healthy 16 years, the only time you'd see me fully unwind is when there was a controller in my hands. I have to speak in past tense because these days my outlet windows have voluntarily shrunk due to willful familial priorities. But that doesn't change the fact that my itch remains.

When console physics continued to improve dramatically over the past 20 years, there was a seriously infectious bug going around. Courtesy of EA Sports. To overcome this bug, I dedicated countless hours to learning and mastering their games ever since I was a teen. I found my groove fastest in FIFA, which has remained the only game I would intentionally make time for even in my adult life.

People don't know this, but video games aren't always fun. The pressure is heavy, especially when you get to a certain competitive level where the highest stakes are a dopamine rush that arrives at the cost of your opponent's collapse. Without hearing a sound, you know your adversary is expletively crushed, and you cheer. The hidden reality is that these games aren't played in isolation, but rather, in a digital arena. Between two real people often scattered across the globe and connected by a server. Adrenaline doesn't usually kick in until I've scored my second goal after being down three, and the momentum swings my way. Inside these pixelated walls, where a 90 minute soccer match is somehow mathematically condensed into a 12 minute game, we put everything on the line.

"To the victor go the spoils."

And while these spoils mean nothing in the real world, they mean everything to some. The chase for the elusive gaming title might fade, but the itch to destroy the next player won't.

August 17, 2026

Stand-Up Comedy Puts Me to Sleep

Stand-up comedy puts me to sleep and I'll die on this hill.

But not the way you'd think!

We've all been there. It's 1am, but you got into bed at 10pm, yet falling asleep still feels like it's a distant dream (pun fully intended). Sometimes we just can't turn our brains off.

Whatever the reason, a lot of folks have their own way of distracting their minds to help themselves drift. A close friend of mine has slept with white noise since he was a kid in school. My wife has this gentle obsession with Cillian Murphy, whose soft Irish siren delicately brings her down from a heavy mental load as he reads Chronicles of Narnia (the "Calm" app really struck gold by having celebrities tenderly read popular books).

Back to stand-up. Rarely do I meet someone who appreciates and respects stand-up comedy as much as I do. Ever since I could remember, my favorite genre of entertainment required laughter. What better way to get that result than by listening to masters of their crafts deliver witty stories and punchlines that tighten my diaphragm till it hurts. Whether a comedian is mainstream, or on their way up, chances are I've listened to them perform. And if they're a big name, I've listened to their jokes. Repeatedly.

One night in college, I had a hard time falling asleep, as many students sometimes do. I wasn't interested in white noise, and Calm wasn't around yet. You know what was around, and might surprise you, still is around?

Pandora.

That's right. Nothing helps me fall asleep better than internet radio. And the only stations you'll find on my recents are comedians. The best part is it's never just that one person. It'll rotate, 5-10 minute bits from others that fit the class.

August 11, 2026

You're My Ride or Die, Right?

Three weeks ago I offered to give my wife an early morning break from her usual role of comforting our newborn. Our daughter turned one month on that day. That morning, walking and bouncing in the infinity shape, I decided to kill some time and catch up on LinkedIn. There's an open letter from one of my CEOs (you mean your company doesn't have two in charge?) but I'm on parental leave, so... pass. Then my other CEO posts an open letter, still pass.

Then I scroll a little further, and I see someone reacting to a post that starts with "To all of my monday.com colleagues..." Reading that brought me back to my Salesforce days. Perhaps those open letters weren't just for PR. As it turned out, they publicly announced a reduction in force by laying off 620 monday employees.

"Yikes," I thought, "I feel for my colleagues."

Leading up to my parental leave, my wife jokingly teased at my PTSD from Salesforce when I was surprisingly let go 2 months before my first daughter was born. I didn't get to experience that bonding time at home, but we were extra grateful for the opportunity that was presented to me. If the healthcare system wasn't so cut throat in this country, perhaps things would've played out differently.

That morning I decided to stretch the gap in between taking our dog out and getting our oldest out of her crib. I couldn't help myself to whatever the internal gossip could've been, it's not like things weren't shaky before I went out on leave.

Fast forward: a 15 minute meeting was added to my calendar with my VP and HR.

Of course, after deleting Slack and my email/calendar from my phone to truly disconnect from work and focus on my family, there was no way I would have even seen this meeting. I should have just gone straight to my toddler and ignored the noise from LinkedIn.

The universe works in such mysterious ways. The shock took its time to settle in, as the foolishness of believing in job protection didn't wear off right away.

My toddler was calling for me at this point, wide awake for an hour in her crib. I took a quick detour to my wife and while she's holding our newborn I looked her in the eye and asked, "you're my ride or die, right? Nothing can stop us." She had no idea what I was talking about and replied "of course" and didn't even ask why. I laughed, told her what happened, and went to get our girl.

August 14, 2026

Can't Someone Else Be the Commissioner?

My wife asked me today why am I always the one responsible for scheduling my league's fantasy football draft. "I'm the commissioner" really didn't mean a whole lot to her. So she followed up with "can't someone else be the commissioner this year?" I've developed a keen sense of reading between the lines when she speaks and could hear the underlying "you sure about these priorities of yours?"

If you're reading my journal for the first time, we had our second child a month and a half ago. There, you're caught up!

A month ago I was humble bragging about how I get to be on parental leave for the first 6 weeks of the NFL season. Call it a religion, an obsession, whatever you want, but Sunday football was Dan's day at our home and nobody else could wrap their arms like a croissant and scream "Yeaaah babyyy" better than my 2yr old daughter after a Patriots touchdown. Don't ask who taught her that, but the hint is that it wasn't her Lions fan of a mom.

Like I said though, that was a month ago. Because today I quipped "think my parental leave will ever end?" I got that subtle "Hah" from my wife. For those that have the kind of marriage that we do, you know that little "hmph" of a smile or chuckle is worth its figurative weight in gold.

Full time at home, after growing our family to four, has been the greatest gem I didn't know was coming. There was a time when I was stress free, knowing things were going well at my job, and come halfway through October I'd be picking up where I left off. Fate took another eventful turn for me and decided that coming back to that same role wasn't what I needed.

Reflecting on how my time has been spent these last three weeks has felt invigorating. We live in such a monumental time in our civilization that I almost feel rewarded to be given uninterrupted time with my loved ones while having the mental freedom to consider what comes next. First off, I've gone down this road before; the difference this time isn't when the outcome happened to me, but what's happening around the time of the outcome.

When I'm not caring for our newborn, or entertaining our toddler (a rewarding full time job in and of itself), or optimistically envisioning what comes next with my wife, I'm working on something new. Something my own. Something that has my fingerprints all over it. My thoughts, ideas, risks, and vulnerability, all spread across fragmented minutes and hours that string together something real.

I'm capitalizing at a time where time is the currency. What comes next is a defining moment, and I can't wait to see what it teaches me about myself. I'm building a product for the first time, one that I believe in wholeheartedly. One that will help people, and hopefully aim their compass to the brighter future that has captured me.

My time working in corporate isn't over, but it won't be my defining chapters. Thanks to AI, our future is accelerating faster than any other time in history. Finding a seat on the rocket ship has never been more affordable, accessible, and inviting as it is now.

June 23, 2026

The Room Where It All Went Down

Yesterday I watched my best friend do something I could never do: she gave birth to our daughter.

Biology aside, I struggle to argue that a man's pain tolerance can stand up to that of a woman's. I witnessed my wife willingly get severed to deliver what feels like a perfect little human designed by her genes. Throw in some of my DNA in there too, while we're at it.

Our girl arrived with a full head of hair, which a bunch of "old wives" gathered around some time ago and decided that's why they were getting all that heartburn during their pregnancy.

Modern science is a spectacular thing when you really zoom out and consider that humans have found a way to deliver a baby safely with a knife and some stitches. I continue to be in awe of what doctors and nurses are capable of and was honored to be allowed in the room where it all went down. But what impressed me the most was watching my wife endure like so many other women before her, often involuntarily.

As I hold my sleeping daughter in my arms while my wife finally gets to sleep, I feel gratitude. I'm lucky to find the pause button for everything else.

Keep reading

The rest is for subscribers. One email, no noise, and the whole archive opens up whenever you want it. Hope you enjoy the read as much as I enjoyed writing it.