I've always felt the real challenge isn't the LLM itself, but managing the context around it.
Many people assume that writing a good prompt is enough, but the real work is turning something unpredictable into a tool you can actually rely on.
Over the past few years, a lot of teams have shown that remote work can be productive and stable. But as the market cools and power shifts back to management, return-to-office policies are quietly making a comeback.
It feels less about actual performance and more about a need for control. Some of these companies even invested in remote tooling during the pandemic, and now they’re choosing to ignore it. You start to wonder if they’re really looking at output, or just want people back in seats so things look like they’re under control.
This project really resonates with me. I have a few friends in healthcare who had great ideas for patient tools, but without a technical partner and no budget for a development team, nothing ever came of them.
Seeing someone actually build something like this, even if it's not perfect, gives me a sense of hope. When you combine domain expertise with some AI tools, you don’t have to wait around for someone else. You can just start.
Several teams around me stopped hiring juniors over the past couple of years. It’s not that the newcomers aren’t good, it’s just that no one has time to train them. AI showed up at just the right moment to offer a convenient excuse, and companies are happy to save on the cost of mentoring.
But long term, this feels like borrowing from the future. Without someone to train, there’s no one ready to step up later.
This past year, I’ve seen a lot of entry-level jobs quietly disappear. It’s not that people are getting laid off, it’s that no one’s hiring beginners anymore. What’s really missing isn’t just the jobs, it’s the chance to grow. If there’s nowhere to start, how are new people supposed to get in and learn?
I used to think the Wow signal was just an overhyped story from the past. But after looking into the technical details, I realized it was genuinely unusual. The signal was clean and narrow-band, nothing like ordinary noise. Decades later, people are still going through old data to study it. What really stays with me is not the search for aliens, but the quiet persistence behind it. Our curiosity about the universe doesn't fade so easily.
I once heard a live a cappella performance in a church, and the moment the voices began, it felt like the whole space wrapped around me in silence. That was when I really understood the beauty of choral music. It is not just about the melody but about how the sound blends in the room and resonates with the air. It is something you simply cannot feel through headphones.
When I was a kid, I thought growing up meant taking trains across states. But now even reliable daily commutes feel out of reach. So when I see something like Brightline, it’s quietly moving. Just the image of someone riding an old railcar across America makes the world feel a little more romantic.
I've been using an app recently that added a bunch of AI features, but the basic search is still slow and often doesn't work. Every time I open it, I kind of brace myself, but it still disappoints me.
It feels like more and more products are focused on looking impressive, when all I really want is for the everyday features to just work well.
I’ve tried using large models to come up with jokes. They can mimic the structure pretty well, but something always feels missing. It’s like following a recipe step by step but ending up with food that lacks real flavor. Sometimes they get close, but it rarely feels truly surprising. Maybe humor needs more than just structure. Maybe it needs a unique point of view.