Ian's Blog

  Ever wondered why a simple conversation can feel like a cross-cultural exchange? Welcome to the tale of two brains. Let’s talk about one of life’s greatest mysteries: how men and women can live in the same house, love each other deeply, and still feel like they’re from completely different planets. The answer, according to this tale, lives upstairs—in the brain. Not in a scientific, peer‑reviewed, white‑lab‑coat way, but in a painfully accurate, laugh‑because-it’s-true way. A man’s brain is best understood as a collection of little boxes. Neat. Organized. Clearly labeled. There’s a box for the car, a box for money, a box for work, a box for the kids, and somewhere a box labeled “your mother.” The key feature here is that the boxes do not touch. Ever. When a man opens one box, that is the only box that exists. The rest of the brain politely minds its business. This is why a man can sit quietly, staring at nothing in particular, and be perfectly content. He has opened the legendary...

  I know Comedian Tim Minchin and I recently came across his address to University of Western Australia graduates. I think he was onto something with his nine pointers of living.  1. You don’t have to have a dream  You don’t need a grand life dream to justify your life. If you have one, great. But chasing a single long-term dream can make you miss the interesting opportunities right in front of you. Be micro-ambitious — work with pride on what’s immediately ahead of you and you’ll be surprised where it leads.  2. Don’t seek happiness   Happiness is like an orgasm — the more you obsess about it, the more it slips away. Humans evolved not to be constantly content. Aim to do worthwhile things and make others happy; happiness will follow as a side effect.  3. Remember, it’s all luck   You are extraordinarily lucky just to be alive and here — born into circumstances that gave you access to this moment. Success isn’t all because of your effort; luc...

  Imagine walking into a room and instantly commanding attention—not because of what you wear, how you look, or what you say but because of the love and support you carry with you. This is the radical, transformative idea that Maya Angelou offered on self-love. In one memorable reflection, she said, “There’s an African saying: Be careful when a naked person offers you a shirt. I mean, if he had something, he'd cover himself first, right?” The point is simple but profound: genuine self-love comes from within. It is a recognition of one’s own worth, independent of external validation, and an acknowledgment of the people who have shaped and supported you. Angelou went further, offering a striking metaphor for carrying that love into the world. She suggested that when entering any space—an office, an interview, or any situation where one seeks recognition or influence, one should “bring your people with you.” She described it vividly: “Say, ‘Grandma, come on, let’s go.’ Great-grandpa’s...

  I’ve learned, slowly and sometimes painfully, that the hardest prayer is not asking for success, health, or clarity in others—but asking for the humility to see yourself. Whatever you do, pray for the ability to see your own sins, your own hypocrisy, and your own shortcomings. It sounds simple, even pious, but it is anything but. To truly see yourself is to confront the parts of you that you hide, that you excuse, and that you try to ignore. It is a confrontation most people avoid, because it hurts, because it challenges pride, and because it forces honesty in a world that rewards performance over truth. Pointing fingers is easy. It is satisfying. It makes us feel superior, moral, in the right. But it is dangerous. The moment you spend more energy judging someone else than inspecting your own life, you risk building a house of illusions. You think yourself upright, virtuous, justified—but underneath, the cracks are widening. We all have abscesses that need tending. We all carry h...

  In a recent discussion, Jensen Huang, the CEO of Nvidia, offered a profound reflection on the nature of youth in the modern era. When asked whether he would rather relive his 20s or be 20 years old today, his answer was unexpected yet deeply revealing: “I thought our 20s were happier than these 20s. I think everyone deserves some time to be oblivious, and not wear all of the world's problems on their shoulders on Day 1.” These words strike at the heart of a generational tension: the collision between awareness, responsibility, and the psychological toll of early exposure to the world’s complexities. Huang’s reflection is not merely nostalgic. It points to a structural reality about the conditions under which young people today mature. Unlike previous generations, today’s youth are confronted with a continuous flood of information, much of it negative, sensationalized, or catastrophic. Climate change, political unrest, economic uncertainty, and the ubiquity of social media amplify...

  I was reading about  a man's story, for years, he and his partner lived what he later described as life on “cheat mode.” No kids. No dependents. Plenty of freedom. Decisions were reversible. Risks were mostly personal. If something went wrong, the consequences were contained. Life felt light, efficient, manageable—like playing a video game with infinite retries. Then he had children. And suddenly, the game changed. “You don’t have skin in the game until you have kids,” he explained, not as a slogan, but as a realization that comes with weight. Parenthood is like a medical procedure where your heart now lives outside your body. It walks around without your protection, sleeps in another room, gets on school buses, and depends on a world you cannot fully control. Before children, the fear of death was abstract, existential, and perhaps philosophical. After children, death becomes personal—not because of what you lose, but because of who you would leave behind. Life without ch...

  There is an uncomfortable truth many people prefer not to say out loud: a significant number of what we label as “mental health issues” become quieter, lighter, or more manageable when bills are paid, rent is secure, and the fridge is full. This is not a dismissal of mental illness, trauma, or neurochemical conditions. It is a challenge to the dishonest separation we often make between mental health and material reality. Peace, stability, and emotional safety are not abstract concepts. They are deeply economic. And pretending otherwise is not wisdom , it is privilege. In many conversations, mental health is framed as an internal battle, something that exists entirely in the mind, detached from external conditions. We are told to meditate, journal, pray harder, think positively, or seek therapy, all of which can be genuinely helpful. But what is often ignored is how difficult it is to “heal” when your life is structurally hostile. Anxiety does not exist in a vacuum when rent is du...