Our landlord gives us a nice bottle of champagne or some other drink every year. We have yet to return the favor. Whenever we’ll do it, our timing won’t be as great as his. It won’t be Christmas, or the new year, or the anniversary of when we moved in. Most likely, it’ll be a random Tuesday—and that just might make it all the better.

It’s fun and honorable to try and do a great job when presents are in order. It’s a different yet just as noble gig to make a kind gesture when no one asked for it. Whether it’s a bar of chocolate, a postcard, or the right emoji in the chat, make it unexpected.

Here’s to Tuesday gifts!

I’m currently reviewing the designs and videos for an animated course about blockchain. There are four different reviewers, each with a different focus. Mine is around correctness and consistency. In other words: nitpicking about grammar and spelling, mostly.

“We should not capitalize this word.” “This should be one word, not two.” “Plural makes more sense here.” As in all business ventures, everything that needs changing slows down the time to market. Therefore, I’m sure not everyone involved sees the point in obsessing over such details. “Who cares if it’s capitalized here and not there?” “It’s still the same phrase even if we merge it.”

Technically, they’re right. You could ship a product that’s at 95% and most people wouldn’t bat an eye. But if I can see a lack of consistency, there must be others who can see it too. And even if my company wasn’t one that prided itself on its thoroughness and academic rigor, I would always flag every issue I’d address if the project were entirely my own. Why?

The problem with shipping a product you know has minor flaws are not the minor flaws themselves—it’s all the other mistakes, both large and small, that you’ll miss, be it organically or for lack of trying to fix the little snags. Every typo you fix could open the door to spotting a bigger problem. And even once you rectify all the typos, there’ll still be flaws in your final result. Since nothing will ever be perfect, doing your very best is just good enough. It’s the most you can do but also the least you can do—and therefore exactly right.

Don’t skip the last five percent. Go all the way, and in the end, you’ll always have gone as far as you could possibly go.

I’m part of several groups where deals are to be had on the regular. Interesting crypto coins, cheap Pokémon card products, even seed stage venture deals. The deal flow is never-ending, yet I only catch a handful of good ones every year, if that. Why? It’s too much information to assess, let alone filter. Plus: timing.

Whatever they are, the best deals always sell out fast. Didn’t you see the email? Didn’t you get the Discord notification? For anyone who has a life outside of making deals, 99% of the time, the answer will be, “No, I did not.”

I once tried to build a custom system with only relevant notifications. The result? Still too many deals, still too much irrelevant info, still sold out. But then how do good deals happen? Organically, usually.

It’s when I dawdle around in the chat anyway on a Saturday morning that I might catch wind of a pre-release dropping later that day. “Ah, now we’re talking!” I prepare for that one event, I get my order in, and I’m done. I stumble across a post from a few days ago, and I realize the coin has dropped even further in price since then. “Oh, that might be interesting.”

Making good deals takes time—you can rush as much as you want to find them, but they won’t gravitate towards you any faster. You’re much better off living your life, preparing, recharging, generating capital to invest in good deals when they come. Chasing deals too hard will only sap your energy.

You don’t have to catch every bus to get to where you want to go. The right one is enough. Trust karma to deliver, and remember to strike when the time comes.

I’m working on my next book in 20-minute increments. I don’t find the time every day, and when I do, I might only be able to write a paragraph. Of course, the next day, I might have to tweak, cut, or rewrite that paragraph. Glaciers move faster than me, and while I do sometimes worry about my progress, I also kind of love it.

Getting a full-time job came with a license to reclaim my creative freedom. Every day when I write exactly what I want the way I want, I’m redeeming that license. No more compromises. The work is the work, and it takes as long as it takes. If I need five years to write a book one paragraph at a time, so be it.

A snail’s pace is still a pace—and I’m done rushing.

Whenever a new season of an existing show launches on Netflix, the creators add a recap at the beginning to help everyone remember what happened last time. The summary usually lasts two to three minutes, but, often, it leaves you more confused than enlightened.

“Uhhh, what was that?” “Do you feel caught up to speed?” “Nu-uh, you?” “Nope.” Inevitably, the stranded turn to Youtube, where a plethora of recaps awaits. My fiancée and I watched one for the first season of The Recruit yesterday, and it taught us all we needed to know in seven minutes.

“Look at that,” I said. “How can Netflix fail to tell us much of anything in three minutes when it takes a stranger on the internet just twice as long to tell us everything?” Eventually, I figured out why: “Narration!” I exclaimed, adding one extra jump scare to my partner’s TV night.

When Netflix compiles their recaps, all they do is string together scenes of the past season. Whatever dialogue might be in there, it can never be enough to fill all the gaps. Recappers on Youtube, meanwhile, narrate their videos. They give you the key visuals, but they also summarize the entire story in a well-drafted script—and that’s why it works.

“Show, don’t tell” is a common principle in writing, advertising, and the creative arts. Of course it’s better to involve the audience than to merely rattle off a list of supposedly important events. But, like everything, sometimes, showing just doesn’t work. That’s why channels like the Man of Recaps exist: There’s a difference between talking and talking about.

If you’re in the story, it’s okay for it to unfold one day at a time. Meandering is part of the journey. But when you learn about someone else’s journey up to now, you need the pillars holding the house together, and you need them fast.

It’s normal to forget that only you know everything you know. It’s okay to be worried about repeating yourself. When you’re talking about something, however, shelve that worry. Dig deep, recall what it was like to be a beginner, and then start from the beginning indeed.

A good recap is just as generous as a story worth recapping. Know which one you’re sharing so we may all press play at the same time.

Exactly 13 years after I received it as a gift, I gave away my old coffee machine. It’s a bit slow but works just fine. The recipient was happy. I love my new one, too, but, somehow, I doubt I’ll be able to say the same again in 2038.

“Durable if maintained.” This used to apply to most things. A kettle. A cell phone. A car. But the more electronics mark the bulk of hardware components, the more fragile said hardware becomes. Short circuits, overheating, sure, there are more risks than with a few steel rods and joints—but in the end, it’s usually the software that gives way.

“Your firmware will no longer update.” A manufacturer-induced death is now one of the most common ways devices fail. It could be cheaper ingredients or increased complexity, but, often, it’s simply the producer saying, “You know what? It’s time for you to buy a new one.”

Aggressive consumerism is sad, but it’s even sadder that the same fragility has spilled over into our relationships. With digital connections, there are more options, and that optionality has increased the pressure to maximize the boundary of one’s social circle. If someone doesn’t text me every week, why not text with someone else? Because texting is not what the relationship is about—but that part quickly gets lost.

As we age, it gets even harder to put the same amount of social lubricant into our closest ties. But that was true for past generations just the same. They got married. They built houses. They had kids. And yet…durable if maintained. After all, strong materials don’t need constant checkups, do they? Once a year is more than enough.

There may be limits to how long you can preserve your modern-day gadgets, but just because maintenance might not work is no reason to not maintain at all. The same goes for your relationships. Don’t be so fussed about someone only piping up again after a year or two. Chances are, at some point, you might do the same. Be happy you heard from them, and trust in a simple belief: Even the things that aren’t things at all will stay durable as long as they are maintained.

When he arrived on Japan’s shores in the late 16th century, John Blackthorne, protagonist of Shogun, was a prisoner of war. Now, having gained the favor of the local lord, he’s got his own house, replete with food, swords, and even a small staff.

Despite speaking very little Japanese, Blackthorne takes to Uejiro, his gardener. One day, Uejiro erects a large slab of black slate in the zen part of Blackthorne’s yard. Placed right amid the grey dry rocks, the slab doesn’t really serve a purpose, but Uejiro says: “Without a good rock, a garden is just a place of growing.”

Whether he fully understands Uejiro’s sentiment or not, Blackthorne agrees and happily goes about his day. When he returns home, everyone in town seems upset. People are crying in the street, and the staff at his house is eerily quiet. “What happened?” Blackthorne asks.

Fuji, his maid, responds shakily after a big gulp: “Uejiro is dead.” John’s jaw drops to the floor, and that’s where it stays as Fuji explains his gardener ultimately died over only a handful of John’s words, spoken casually yet terribly lost in translation. In the end, for Uejiro, it was between breaking his house lord’s rules or continuing to endure a situation that upset the whole village—namely a rotting animal corpse on John’s premises.

While John won’t regain his composure any time soon, his staff keeps trying to assuage him. “Don’t worry,” they say. “Uejiro was sick anyway. He volunteered. He died for a great cause.” Will John ever understand? Unlikely. But to Uejiro, his choice made perfect sense.

If the animal had kept on rotting, besides the stench, a dangerous illness could have spread. And if the villager’s unrest had kept festering, they might soon have turned on his master. For Uejiro, the day he decided to commit a deed punishable by death was simply the day he became a rock in John’s garden—for without one, it would have remained only a place of growing.

Growth is a means, not an end. Unchecked, plants, money, habits, they all sprawl into undesirable directions. Be they mere design elements or centerpieces, rocks—still, immovable foundations—anchor our being, our activities, even life itself.

Foster your gardens as best as you are able. But remember: Without a good rock, they’ll do nothing but grow—and the places you tend to are meant to be much more than just vegetation.

There were times in my life when caffeine was like the letter “E” in the alphabet: It was everywhere. I drank multiple a day from various sources. At home. From the bakery. Decaf. Not decaf. Caramel lattes. Black tea. I enjoyed it all.

What I did not enjoy were some of the side effects. Occasional stomachaches and headaches. Feeling fidgety. Crashing when the caffeine wears off. Yesterday, I had my first cup after 35 days. Ahh, the return of the smell! The creamy taste. The warm blanket around my soul. But some of the side effects returned too. It made me think.

Some things don’t need to be their own letter in your life. They’re not meant to take up 1/26th of all the space you’ll ever have. Me and my buddy caffeine? Maybe it’s better if she’s only the accent on top of the “E,” not the “E” itself. To be savored in increments, not affluence.

It’s not just your story, you know? It’s also your language to design. Pick your letters—and place your accents carefully.

Without me knowing, my friend Herbert submitted my blog to a curated directory. It got accepted. So now, everyone who browses Minifeed has a chance to discover my work. How awesome is that?

Herbert didn’t try to barter a deal with me. “If I do this for you, will you do that for me?” He simply saw an opportunity, thought of me, and happened to be in a kind place. So he was generous, and it made my entire day.

There’s a lot of talk about “friends in high places,” but, often, those aren’t friends at all. They’re parties you must negotiate with. Each deal comes with a lot of stress, and it only takes one backfiring for the whole relationship to sour.

I’d rather have friends in kind places. People who think of me every now and then, be it by design or by association, and who then have the headspace to throw me a bone. That’s how I try to live as well. Whenever I meet someone creative, I bring them a copy of Herbert’s book. Sometimes, I forget about it for a few weeks. But then I meet someone new, I remember Herbert, and I bring the book to the occasion.

It is better to know a few people who care about you than to care about a lot of people who don’t really know you. Stick with friends in kind places.

My fiancée and I have been watching Beast Games, MrBeast’s first official TV game show, somewhat religiously. Jimmy is known for his crazy challenges and record-breaking videos on Youtube, but to see it all put together in an even more proper format and 10-episode style makes it interesting from new angles.

The show airs every Thursday. We watched the first few episodes in one go, but then, as we had to wait week to week and the cliffhangers got crazier each time, we found ourselves looking forward to finding out what happens next. “Oh! Beast Games is out! Woo, let’s watch it tonight!”

The penultimate episode has what Jimmy dubbed “the biggest cliffhanger in TV history.” Without revealing too much, it’s essentially a coin flip worth millions of dollars. “Holy smokes,” we went when the credits were rolling. “Of course they make us wait a week for that one.”

But then, something funny happened: Thursday came and went. So did Friday. We went on a short trip for my birthday, and almost a whole week later, we had basically entirely forgotten the last episode was out.

Can you imagine? The biggest cliffhanger ever, and yet…

In the end, life is about the basics. Superlatives fade. It’s okay to forget—and never too late to finish your favorite show.